sted in the conversation. Dougal was a
solemn dog, who seemed to feel altogether too big to take life's
responsibilities lightly. The old Earl, who knew the dog well, had
watched it with secret interest. Dougal was not a dog whose habit it was
to make acquaintances rashly, and the Earl wondered somewhat to see how
quietly the brute sat under the touch of the childish hand. And, just
at this moment, the big dog gave little Lord Fauntleroy one more look
of dignified scrutiny, and deliberately laid its huge, lion-like head on
the boy's black-velvet knee.

The small hand went on stroking this new friend as Cedric answered:

"Well, there was Dick," he said. "You'd like Dick, he's so square."

This was an Americanism the Earl was not prepared for.

"What does that mean?" he inquired.

Lord Fauntleroy paused a moment to reflect. He was not very sure himself
what it meant. He had taken it for granted as meaning something very
creditable because Dick had been fond of using it.

"I think it means that he wouldn't cheat any one," he exclaimed; "or
hit a boy who was under his size, and that he blacks people's boots
very well and makes them shine as much as he can. He's a perfessional
bootblack."

"And he's one of your acquaintances, is he?" said the Earl.

"He is an old friend of mine," replied his grandson. "Not quite as old
as Mr. Hobbs, but quite old. He gave me a present just before the ship
sailed."

He put his hand into his pocket and drew forth a neatly folded red
object and opened it with an air of affectionate pride. It was the red
silk handkerchief with the large purple horse-shoes and heads on it.

"He gave me this," said his young lordship. "I shall keep it always. You
can wear it round your neck or keep it in your pocket. He bought it with
the first money he earned after I bought Jake out and gave him the new
brushes. It's a keepsake. I put some poetry in Mr. Hobbs's watch. It
was, 'When this you see, remember me.' When this I see, I shall always
remember Dick."

The sensations of the Right Honorable the Earl of Dorincourt could
scarcely be described. He was not an old nobleman who was very easily
bewildered, because he had seen a great deal of the world; but here was
something he found so novel that it almost took his lordly breath away,
and caused him some singular emotions. He had never cared for children;
he had been so occupied with his own pleasures that he had never had
time to care for them. His ow