Little Lord Fauntleroy

  Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger

  LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY

  By Frances Hodgson Burnett

  I

  Cedric himself knew nothing whatever about it. It had never been evenmentioned to him. He knew that his papa had been an Englishman, becausehis mamma had told him so; but then his papa had died when he was solittle a boy that he could not remember very much about him, except thathe was big, and had blue eyes and a long mustache, and that it was asplendid thing to be carried around the room on his shoulder. Since hispapa's death, Cedric had found out that it was best not to talk to hismamma about him. When his father was ill, Cedric had been sent away, andwhen he had returned, everything was over; and his mother, who hadbeen very ill, too, was only just beginning to sit in her chair by thewindow. She was pale and thin, and all the dimples had gone from herpretty face, and her eyes looked large and mournful, and she was dressedin black.

  "Dearest," said Cedric (his papa had called her that always, and so thelittle boy had learned to say it),--"dearest, is my papa better?"

  He felt her arms tremble, and so he turned his curly head and looked inher face. There was something in it that made him feel that he was goingto cry.

  "Dearest," he said, "is he well?"

  Then suddenly his loving little heart told him that he'd better put bothhis arms around her neck and kiss her again and again, and keep hissoft cheek close to hers; and he did so, and she laid her face on hisshoulder and cried bitterly, holding him as if she could never let himgo again.

  "Yes, he is well," she sobbed; "he is quite, quite well, but we--we haveno one left but each other. No one at all."

  Then, little as he was, he understood that his big, handsome young papawould not come back any more; that he was dead, as he had heard of otherpeople being, although he could not comprehend exactly what strangething had brought all this sadness about. It was because his mammaalways cried when he spoke of his papa that he secretly made up his mindit was better not to speak of him very often to her, and he found out,too, that it was better not to let her sit still and look into the fireor out of the window without moving or talking. He and his mamma knewvery few people, and lived what might have been thought very lonelylives, although Cedric did not know it was lonely until he grew olderand heard why it was they had no visitors. Then he was told that hismamma was an orphan, and quite alone in the world when his papa hadmarried her. She was very pretty, and had been living as companion to arich old lady who was not kind to her, and one day Captain Cedric Errol,who was calling at the house, saw her run up the stairs with tears onher eyelashes; and she looked so sweet and innocent and sorrowful thatthe Captain could not forget her. And after many strange things hadhappened, they knew each other well and loved each other dearly, andwere married, although their marriage brought them the ill-will ofseveral persons. The one who was most angry of all, however, wasthe Captain's father, who lived in England, and was a very rich andimportant old nobleman, with a very bad temper and a very violentdislike to America and Americans. He had two sons older than CaptainCedric; and it was the law that the elder of these sons should inheritthe family title and estates, which were very rich and splendid; if theeldest son died, the next one would be heir; so, though he was a memberof such a great family, there was little chance that Captain Cedricwould be very rich himself.

  But it so happened that Nature had given to the youngest son gifts whichshe had not bestowed upon his elder brothers. He had a beautiful faceand a fine, strong, graceful figure; he had a bright smile and a sweet,gay voice; he was brave and generous, and had the kindest heart in theworld, and seemed to have the power to make every one love him. And itwas not so with his elder brothers; neither of them was handsome,or very kind, or clever. When they were boys at Eton, they were notpopular; when they were at college, they cared nothing for study, andwasted both time and money, and made few real friends. The old Earl,their father, was constantly disappointed and humiliated by them; hisheir was no honor to his noble name, and did not promise to end in beinganything but a selfish, wasteful, insignificant man, with no manly ornoble qualities. It was very bitter, the old Earl thought, that the sonwho was only third, and would have only a very small fortune, should bethe one who had all the gifts, and all the charms, and all the strengthand beauty. Sometimes he almost hated the handsome young man because heseemed to have the good things which should have gone with the statelytitle and the magnificent estates; and yet, in the depths of his proud,stubborn old heart, he could not help caring very much for his youngestson. It was in one of his fits of petulance that he sent him off totravel in America; he thought he would send him away for a while, sothat he should not be made angry by constantly contrasting him with hisbrothers, who were at that time giving him a great deal of trouble bytheir wild ways.

  But, after about six months, he began to feel lonely, and longed insecret to see his son again, so he wrote to Captain Cedric and orderedhim home. The letter he wrote crossed on its way a letter the Captainhad just written to his father, telling of his love for the prettyAmerican girl, and of his intended marriage; and when the Earl receivedthat letter he was furiously angry. Bad as his temper was, he hadnever given way to it in his life as he gave way to it when he read theCaptain's letter. His valet, who was in the room when it came, thoughthis lordship would have a fit of apoplexy, he was so wild with anger.For an hour he raged like a tiger, and then he sat down and wrote to hisson, and ordered him never to come near his old home, nor to write tohis father or brothers again. He told him he might live as he pleased,and die where he pleased, that he should be cut off from his familyforever, and that he need never expect help from his father as long ashe lived.

  The Captain was very sad when he read the letter; he was very fond ofEngland, and he dearly loved the beautiful home where he had been born;he had even loved his ill-tempered old father, and had sympathized withhim in his disappointments; but he knew he need expect no kindness fromhim in the future. At first he scarcely knew what to do; he had not beenbrought up to work, and had no business experience, but he had courageand plenty of determination. So he sold his commission in the Englisharmy, and after some trouble found a situation in New York, and married.The change from his old life in England was very great, but he was youngand happy, and he hoped that hard work would do great things for him inthe future. He had a small house on a quiet street, and his little boywas born there, and everything was so gay and cheerful, in a simple way,that he was never sorry for a moment that he had married the rich oldlady's pretty companion just because she was so sweet and he loved herand she loved him. She was very sweet, indeed, and her little boy waslike both her and his father. Though he was born in so quiet and cheap alittle home, it seemed as if there never had been a more fortunate baby.In the first place, he was always well, and so he never gave any onetrouble; in the second place, he had so sweet a temper and ways socharming that he was a pleasure to every one; and in the third place,he was so beautiful to look at that he was quite a picture. Instead ofbeing a bald-headed baby, he started in life with a quantity of soft,fine, gold-colored hair, which curled up at the ends, and went intoloose rings by the time he was six months old; he had big brown eyes andlong eyelashes and a darling little face; he had so strong a back andsuch splendid sturdy legs, that at nine months he learned suddenly towalk; his manners were so good, for a baby, that it was delightful tomake his acquaintance. He seemed to feel that every one was his friend,and when any one spoke to him, when he was in his carriage in thestreet, he would give the stranger one sweet, serious look with thebrown eyes, and then follow it with a lovely, friendly smile; and theconsequence was, that there was not a person in the neighborhood of thequiet street where he lived--even to the groceryman at the corner
, whowas considered the crossest creature alive--who was not pleased to seehim and speak to him. And every month of his life he grew handsomer andmore interesting.

  When he was old enough to walk out with his nurse, dragging a smallwagon and wearing a short white kilt skirt, and a big white hat set backon his curly yellow hair, he was so handsome and strong and rosy that heattracted every one's attention, and his nurse would come home and tellhis mamma stories of the ladies who had stopped their carriages to lookat and speak to him, and of how pleased they were when he talked to themin his cheerful little way, as if he had known them always. His greatestcharm was this cheerful, fearless, quaint little way of making friendswith people. I think it arose from his having a very confiding nature,and a kind little heart that sympathized with every one, and wished tomake every one as comfortable as he liked to be himself. It made himvery quick to understand the feelings of those about him. Perhaps thishad grown on him, too, because he had lived so much with his father andmother, who were always loving and considerate and tender and well-bred.He had never heard an unkind or uncourteous word spoken at home; he hadalways been loved and caressed and treated tenderly, and so his childishsoul was full of kindness and innocent warm feeling. He had always heardhis mamma called by pretty, loving names, and so he used them himselfwhen he spoke to her; he had always seen that his papa watched over herand took great care of her, and so he learned, too, to be careful ofher.

  So when he knew his papa would come back no more, and saw how verysad his mamma was, there gradually came into his kind little heart thethought that he must do what he could to make her happy. He was not muchmore than a baby, but that thought was in his mind whenever he climbedupon her knee and kissed her and put his curly head on her neck, andwhen he brought his toys and picture-books to show her, and when hecurled up quietly by her side as she used to lie on the sofa. He was notold enough to know of anything else to do, so he did what he could, andwas more of a comfort to her than he could have understood.

  "Oh, Mary!" he heard her say once to her old servant; "I am sure heis trying to help me in his innocent way--I know he is. He looks at mesometimes with a loving, wondering little look, as if he were sorry forme, and then he will come and pet me or show me something. He is such alittle man, I really think he knows."

  As he grew older, he had a great many quaint little ways which amusedand interested people greatly. He was so much of a companion for hismother that she scarcely cared for any other. They used to walk togetherand talk together and play together. When he was quite a little fellow,he learned to read; and after that he used to lie on the hearth-rug, inthe evening, and read aloud--sometimes stories, and sometimes big bookssuch as older people read, and sometimes even the newspaper; and oftenat such times Mary, in the kitchen, would hear Mrs. Errol laughing withdelight at the quaint things he said.

  "And, indade," said Mary to the groceryman, "nobody cud help laughin' atthe quare little ways of him--and his ould-fashioned sayin's! Didn'the come into my kitchen the noight the new Prisident was nominated andshtand afore the fire, lookin' loike a pictur', wid his hands in hisshmall pockets, an' his innocent bit of a face as sayrious as a jedge?An' sez he to me: 'Mary,' sez he, 'I'm very much int'rusted in the'lection,' sez he. 'I'm a 'publican, an' so is Dearest. Are you a'publican, Mary?' 'Sorra a bit,' sez I; 'I'm the bist o' dimmycrats!'An' he looks up at me wid a look that ud go to yer heart, an' sez he:'Mary,' sez he, 'the country will go to ruin.' An' nivver a day sincethin has he let go by widout argyin' wid me to change me polytics."

  Mary was very fond of him, and very proud of him, too. She had been withhis mother ever since he was born; and, after his father's death, hadbeen cook and housemaid and nurse and everything else. She was proud ofhis graceful, strong little body and his pretty manners, and especiallyproud of the bright curly hair which waved over his forehead and fell incharming love-locks on his shoulders. She was willing to work early andlate to help his mamma make his small suits and keep them in order.

  "'Ristycratic, is it?" she would say. "Faith, an' I'd loike to see thechoild on Fifth Avey-NOO as looks loike him an' shteps out as handsomeas himself. An' ivvery man, woman, and choild lookin' afther him in hisbit of a black velvet skirt made out of the misthress's ould gownd; an'his little head up, an' his curly hair flyin' an' shinin'. It's loike ayoung lord he looks."

  Cedric did not know that he looked like a young lord; he did notknow what a lord was. His greatest friend was the groceryman at thecorner--the cross groceryman, who was never cross to him. His name wasMr. Hobbs, and Cedric admired and respected him very much. He thoughthim a very rich and powerful person, he had so many things in hisstore,--prunes and figs and oranges and biscuits,--and he had ahorse and wagon. Cedric was fond of the milkman and the baker and theapple-woman, but he liked Mr. Hobbs best of all, and was on terms ofsuch intimacy with him that he went to see him every day, and often satwith him quite a long time, discussing the topics of the hour. It wasquite surprising how many things they found to talk about--the Fourthof July, for instance. When they began to talk about the Fourth of Julythere really seemed no end to it. Mr. Hobbs had a very bad opinion of"the British," and he told the whole story of the Revolution, relatingvery wonderful and patriotic stories about the villainy of the enemy andthe bravery of the Revolutionary heroes, and he even generously repeatedpart of the Declaration of Independence.

  Cedric was so excited that his eyes shone and his cheeks were red andhis curls were all rubbed and tumbled into a yellow mop. He could hardlywait to eat his dinner after he went home, he was so anxious to tellhis mamma. It was, perhaps, Mr. Hobbs who gave him his first interestin politics. Mr. Hobbs was fond of reading the newspapers, and so Cedricheard a great deal about what was going on in Washington; and Mr. Hobbswould tell him whether the President was doing his duty or not. Andonce, when there was an election, he found it all quite grand, andprobably but for Mr. Hobbs and Cedric the country might have beenwrecked.

  Mr. Hobbs took him to see a great torchlight procession, and many of themen who carried torches remembered afterward a stout man who stood neara lamp-post and held on his shoulder a handsome little shouting boy, whowaved his cap in the air.

  It was not long after this election, when Cedric was between seven andeight years old, that the very strange thing happened which made sowonderful a change in his life. It was quite curious, too, that theday it happened he had been talking to Mr. Hobbs about England andthe Queen, and Mr. Hobbs had said some very severe things about thearistocracy, being specially indignant against earls and marquises. Ithad been a hot morning; and after playing soldiers with some friendsof his, Cedric had gone into the store to rest, and had found Mr. Hobbslooking very fierce over a piece of the Illustrated London News, whichcontained a picture of some court ceremony.

  "Ah," he said, "that's the way they go on now; but they'll get enoughof it some day, when those they've trod on rise and blow 'em upsky-high,--earls and marquises and all! It's coming, and they may lookout for it!"

  Cedric had perched himself as usual on the high stool and pushed hishat back, and put his hands in his pockets in delicate compliment to Mr.Hobbs.

  "Did you ever know many marquises, Mr. Hobbs?" Cedric inquired,--"orearls?"

  "No," answered Mr. Hobbs, with indignation; "I guess not. I'd like tocatch one of 'em inside here; that's all! I'll have no grasping tyrantssittin' 'round on my cracker-barrels!"

  And he was so proud of the sentiment that he looked around proudly andmopped his forehead.

  "Perhaps they wouldn't be earls if they knew any better," said Cedric,feeling some vague sympathy for their unhappy condition.

  "Wouldn't they!" said Mr. Hobbs. "They just glory in it! It's in 'em.They're a bad lot."

  They were in the midst of their conversation, when Mary appeared.

  Cedric thought she had come to buy some sugar, perhaps, but she had not.She looked almost pale and as if she were excited about something.

  "Come home, darlint," she said; "the misthress is wantin' yez."
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  Cedric slipped down from his stool.

  "Does she want me to go out with her, Mary?" he asked. "Good-morning,Mr. Hobbs. I'll see you again."

  He was surprised to see Mary staring at him in a dumfounded fashion, andhe wondered why she kept shaking her head.

  "What's the matter, Mary?" he said. "Is it the hot weather?"

  "No," said Mary; "but there's strange things happenin' to us."

  "Has the sun given Dearest a headache?" he inquired anxiously.

  But it was not that. When he reached his own house there was a coupestanding before the door and some one was in the little parlor talkingto his mamma. Mary hurried him upstairs and put on his best summersuit of cream-colored flannel, with the red scarf around his waist, andcombed out his curly locks.

  "Lords, is it?" he heard her say. "An' the nobility an' gintry. Och! badcess to them! Lords, indade--worse luck."

  It was really very puzzling, but he felt sure his mamma would tell himwhat all the excitement meant, so he allowed Mary to bemoan herselfwithout asking many questions. When he was dressed, he ran downstairsand went into the parlor. A tall, thin old gentleman with a sharp facewas sitting in an arm-chair. His mother was standing near by with a paleface, and he saw that there were tears in her eyes.

  "Oh! Ceddie!" she cried out, and ran to her little boy and caught himin her arms and kissed him in a frightened, troubled way. "Oh! Ceddie,darling!"

  The tall old gentleman rose from his chair and looked at Cedric with hissharp eyes. He rubbed his thin chin with his bony hand as he looked.

  He seemed not at all displeased.

  "And so," he said at last, slowly,--"and so this is little LordFauntleroy."