Little Lord Fauntleroy, Frances Hodgson Burnett [best sci fi novels of all time .TXT] 📗

view of the case seemed to cheer Billy Williams so much that he began to smile on the world again, and felt able to swagger a little, almost as if he had won the race instead of losing it. Somehow, Ceddie Errol had a way of making people feel comfortable. Even in the first flush of his triumphs, he remembered that the person who was beaten might not feel so gay as he did, and might like to think that he might have been the winner under different circumstances.

That morning Mr. Havisham had quite a long conversation with the winner of the race⁠—a conversation which made him smile his dry smile, and rub his chin with his bony hand several times.

Mrs. Errol had been called out of the parlor, and the lawyer and Cedric were left together. At first Mr. Havisham wondered what he should say to his small companion. He had an idea that perhaps it would be best to say several things which might prepare Cedric for meeting his grandfather, and, perhaps, for the great change that was to come to him. He could see that Cedric had not the least idea of the sort of thing he was to see when he reached England, or of the sort of home that waited for him there. He did not even know yet that his mother was not to live in the same house with him. They had thought it best to let him get over the first shock before telling him.

Mr. Havisham sat in an armchair on one side of the open window; on the other side was another still larger chair, and Cedric sat in that and looked at Mr. Havisham. He sat well back in the depths of his big seat, his curly head against the cushioned back, his legs crossed, and his hands thrust deep into his pockets, in a quite Mr. Hobbs-like way. He had been watching Mr. Havisham very steadily when his mamma had been in the room, and after she was gone he still looked at him in respectful thoughtfulness. There was a short silence after Mrs. Errol went out, and Cedric seemed to be studying Mr. Havisham, and Mr. Havisham was certainly studying Cedric. He could not make up his mind as to what an elderly gentleman should say to a little boy who won races, and wore short knickerbockers and red stockings on legs which were not long enough to hang over a big chair when he sat well back in it.

But Cedric relieved him by suddenly beginning the conversation himself.

“Do you know,” he said, “I don’t know what an earl is?”

“Don’t you?” said Mr. Havisham.

“No,” replied Ceddie. “And I think when a boy is going to be one, he ought to know. Don’t you?”

“Well⁠—yes,” answered Mr. Havisham.

“Would you mind,” said Ceddie respectfully⁠—“would you mind ’splaining it to me?” (Sometimes when he used his long words he did not pronounce them quite correctly.) “What made him an earl?”

“A king or queen, in the first place,” said Mr. Havisham. “Generally, he is made an earl because he has done some service to his sovereign, or some great deed.”

“Oh!” said Cedric; “that’s like the President.”

“Is it?” said Mr. Havisham. “Is that why your presidents are elected?”

“Yes,” answered Ceddie cheerfully. “When a man is very good and knows a great deal, he is elected president. They have torchlight processions and bands, and everybody makes speeches. I used to think I might perhaps be a president, but I never thought of being an earl. I didn’t know about earls,” he said, rather hastily, lest Mr. Havisham might feel it impolite in him not to have wished to be one⁠—“if I’d known about them, I dare say I should have thought I should like to be one.”

“It is rather different from being a president,” said Mr. Havisham.

“Is it?” asked Cedric. “How? Are there no torchlight processions?”

Mr. Havisham crossed his own legs and put the tips of his fingers carefully together. He thought perhaps the time had come to explain matters rather more clearly.

“An earl is⁠—is a very important person,” he began.

“So is a president!” put in Ceddie. “The torchlight processions are five miles long, and they shoot up rockets, and the band plays! Mr. Hobbs took me to see them.”

“An earl,” Mr. Havisham went on, feeling rather uncertain of his ground, “is frequently of very ancient lineage⁠—”

“What’s that?” asked Ceddie.

“Of very old family⁠—extremely old.”

“Ah!” said Cedric, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets. “I suppose that is the way with the apple-woman near the park. I dare say she is of ancient lin-lenage. She is so old it would surprise you how she can stand up. She’s a hundred, I should think, and yet she is out there when it rains, even. I’m sorry for her, and so are the other boys. Billy Williams once had nearly a dollar, and I asked him to buy five cents’ worth of apples from her every day until he had spent it all. That made twenty days, and he grew tired of apples after a week; but then⁠—it was quite fortunate⁠—a gentleman gave me fifty cents and I bought apples from her instead. You feel sorry for anyone that’s so poor and has such ancient lin-lenage. She says hers has gone into her bones and the rain makes it worse.”

Mr. Havisham felt rather at a loss as he looked at his companion’s innocent, serious little face.

“I am afraid you did not quite understand me,” he explained. “When I said ‘ancient lineage’ I did not mean old age; I meant that the name of such a family has been known in the world a long time; perhaps for hundreds of years persons bearing that name have been known and spoken of in the history of their country.”

“Like George Washington,” said Ceddie. “I’ve heard of him ever since I was born, and he was known about, long before that. Mr. Hobbs says he will never be forgotten. That’s because of the Declaration of Independence, you know, and the Fourth of July. You see, he was a very brave man.”

“The first Earl