"Shall I bring you the pen and ink? I can take the game off this table."It plainly had not for an instant occurred to him that Newick would be allowed to do his worst.
The Earl paused a moment, still looking at him. "Can you write?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Cedric, "but not very well."
"Move the things from the table," commanded my lord, "and bring the pen and ink, and a sheet of paper from my desk."Mr. Mordaunt's interest began to increase. Fauntleroy did as he was told very deftly. In a few moments, the sheet of paper, the big inkstand, and the pen were ready.
"There!" he said gayly, "now you can write it.""You are to write it," said the Earl.
"I!" exclaimed Fauntleroy, and a flush overspread his forehead.
"Will it do if I write it? I don't always spell quite right when I haven't a dictionary, and nobody tells me.""It will do," answered the Earl. "Higgins will not complain of the spelling. I'm not the philanthropist; you are. Dip your pen in the ink."Fauntleroy took up the pen and dipped it in the ink-bottle, then he arranged himself in position, leaning on the table.
"Now," he inquired, "what must I say?"
"You may say, `Higgins is not to be interfered with, for the present,' and sign it, `Fauntleroy,'" said the Earl.
Fauntleroy dipped his pen in the ink again, and resting his arm, began to write. It was rather a slow and serious process, but he gave his whole soul to it. After a while, however, the manuscript was complete, and he handed it to his grandfather with a smile slightly tinged with anxiety.
"Do you think it will do?" he asked.
The Earl looked at it, and the corners of his mouth twitched a little.
"Yes," he answered; "Higgins will find it entirely satisfactory." And he handed it to Mr. Mordaunt.
What Mr. Mordaunt found written was this:
"Dear Mr. Newik if you pleas Mr. higins is not to be intur feared with for the present and oblige.
Yours rispecferly "FAUNTLEROY."
"Mr. Hobbs always signed his letters that way," said Fauntleroy; "and I thought I'd better say `please.' Is that exactly the right way to spell `interfered'?""It's not exactly the way it is spelled in the dictionary,"answered the Earl.
"I was afraid of that," said Fauntleroy. "I ought to have asked. You see, that's the way with words of more than one syllable; you have to look in the dictionary. It's always safest. I'll write it over again."And write it over again he did, making quite an imposing copy, and taking precautions in the matter of spelling by consulting the Earl himself.
"Spelling is a curious thing," he said. "It's so often different from what you expect it to be. I used to think `please' was spelled p-l-e-e-s, but it isn't, you know; and you'd think `dear' was spelled d-e-r-e, if you didn't inquire.
Sometimes it almost discourages you."
When Mr. Mordaunt went away, he took the letter with him, and he took something else with him also--namely, a pleasanter feeling and a more hopeful one than he had ever carried home with him down that avenue on any previous visit he had made at Dorincourt Castle.
When he was gone, Fauntleroy, who had accompanied him to the door, went back to his grandfather.
"May I go to Dearest now?" he asked. "I think she will be waiting for me."The Earl was silent a moment.
"There is something in the stable for you to see first," he said. "Ring the bell.""If you please," said Fauntleroy, with his quick little flush.
"I'm very much obliged; but I think I'd better see it to-morrow.
She will be expecting me all the time."
"Very well," answered the Earl. "We will order the carriage." Then he added dryly, "It's a pony."Fauntleroy drew a long breath.
"A pony!" he exclaimed. "Whose pony is it?"
"Yours," replied the Earl.
"Mine?" cried the little fellow. "Mine--like the things upstairs?""Yes," said his grandfather. "Would you like to see it?
Shall I order it to be brought around?"
Fauntleroy's cheeks grew redder and redder.
"I never thought I should have a pony!" he said. "I never thought that! How glad Dearest will be. You give me EVERYthing, don't you?""Do you wish to see it?" inquired the Earl.
Fauntleroy drew a long breath. "I WANT to see it," he said.
"I want to see it so much I can hardly wait. But I'm afraid there isn't time.""You MUST go and see your mother this afternoon?" asked the Earl. "You think you can't put it off?""Why," said Fauntleroy, "she has been thinking about me all the morning, and I have been thinking about her!""Oh!" said the Earl. "You have, have you? Ring the bell."As they drove down the avenue, under the arching trees, he was rather silent. But Fauntleroy was not. He talked about the pony. What color was it? How big was it? What was its name?
What did it like to eat best? How old was it? How early in the morning might he get up and see it?
"Dearest will be so glad!" he kept saying. "She will be so much obliged to you for being so kind to me! She knows I always liked ponies so much, but we never thought I should have one.
There was a little boy on Fifth Avenue who had one, and he used to ride out every morning and we used to take a walk past his house to see him."He leaned back against the cushions and regarded the Earl with rapt interest for a few minutes and in entire silence.
"I think you must be the best person in the world," he burst forth at last. "You are always doing good, aren't you?--and thinking about other people. Dearest says that is the best kind of goodness; not to think about yourself, but to think about other people. That is just the way you are, isn't it?"His lordship was so dumfounded to find himself presented in such agreeable colors, that he did not know exactly what to say. He felt that he needed time for reflection. To see each of his ugly, selfish motives changed into a good and generous one by the simplicity of a child was a singular experience.
Fauntleroy went on, still regarding him with admiring eyes--those great, clear, innocent eyes!
