ad done them a good turn again, and that through his
innocent interference the scandal of Earl's Court had at last been
removed. If he had only known how they talked about him and praised him
everywhere, and prophesied great things for him when he grew up, how
astonished he would have been! But he never suspected it. He lived his
simple, happy, child life,--frolicking about in the park; chasing the
rabbits to their burrows; lying under the trees on the grass, or on
the rug in the library, reading wonderful books and talking to the Earl
about them, and then telling the stories again to his mother; writing
long letters to Dick and Mr. Hobbs, who responded in characteristic
fashion; riding out at his grandfather's side, or with Wilkins as
escort. As they rode through the market town, he used to see the people
turn and look, and he noticed that as they lifted their hats their
faces often brightened very much; but he thought it was all because his
grandfather was with him.

"They are so fond of you," he once said, looking up at his lordship with
a bright smile. "Do you see how glad they are when they see you? I hope
they will some day be as fond of me. It must be nice to have EVERYbody
like you." And he felt quite proud to be the grandson of so greatly
admired and beloved an individual.

When the cottages were being built, the lad and his grandfather used to
ride over to Earl's Court together to look at them, and Fauntleroy
was full of interest. He would dismount from his pony and go and make
acquaintance with the workmen, asking them questions about building and
bricklaying, and telling them things about America. After two or three
such conversations, he was able to enlighten the Earl on the subject of
brick-making, as they rode home.

"I always like to know about things like those," he said, "because you
never know what you are coming to."

When he left them, the workmen used to talk him over among themselves,
and laugh at his odd, innocent speeches; but they liked him, and
liked to see him stand among them, talking away, with his hands in his
pockets, his hat pushed back on his curls, and his small face full
of eagerness. "He's a rare un," they used to say. "An' a noice little
outspoken chap, too. Not much o' th' bad stock in him." And they would
go home and tell their wives about him, and the women would tell each
other, and so it came about that almost every one talked of, or knew
some story of, little Lord Fauntler