men joined the ladies in the
drawing-room. They found Fauntleroy sitting on the sofa with Miss Vivian
Herbert,--the great beauty of the last London season; they had been
looking at some pictures, and he was thanking his companion as the door
opened.

"I'm ever so much obliged to you for being so kind to me!" he was
saying; "I never was at a party before, and I've enjoyed myself so
much!"

He had enjoyed himself so much that when the gentlemen gathered about
Miss Herbert again and began to talk to her, as he listened and tried
to understand their laughing speeches, his eyelids began to droop. They
drooped until they covered his eyes two or three times, and then the
sound of Miss Herbert's low, pretty laugh would bring him back, and he
would open them again for about two seconds. He was quite sure he was
not going to sleep, but there was a large, yellow satin cushion behind
him and his head sank against it, and after a while his eyelids drooped
for the last time. They did not even quite open when, as it seemed a
long time after, some one kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was Miss
Vivian Herbert, who was going away, and she spoke to him softly.

"Good-night, little Lord Fauntleroy," she said. "Sleep well."

And in the morning he did not know that he had tried to open his eyes
and had murmured sleepily, "Good-night--I'm so--glad--I saw you--you are
so--pretty----"

He only had a very faint recollection of hearing the gentlemen laugh
again and of wondering why they did it.

No sooner had the last guest left the room, than Mr. Havisham turned
from his place by the fire, and stepped nearer the sofa, where he stood
looking down at the sleeping occupant. Little Lord Fauntleroy was taking
his ease luxuriously. One leg crossed the other and swung over the edge
of the sofa; one arm was flung easily above his head; the warm flush
of healthful, happy, childish sleep was on his quiet face; his waving
tangle of bright hair strayed over the yellow satin cushion. He made a
picture well worth looking at.

As Mr. Havisham looked at it, he put his hand up and rubbed his shaven
chin, with a harassed countenance.

"Well, Havisham," said the Earl's harsh voice behind him. "What is it?
It is evident something has happened. What was the extraordinary event,
if I may ask?"

Mr. Havisham turned from the sofa, still rubbing his chin.

"It was bad news," he answered, "distressing news, my lord--the worst of
news. I am sorry to be the