Little Lord Fauntleroy by Frances Hodgson Burnett (simple e reader .txt) 📕

looking at, in the next room; Dawson had such a consequential, mysterious air.

“Now, then,” he said, slipping off his seat a few minutes later; “I’ve had enough. Can I go and look at it?”

Dawson nodded and led the way, looking more mysterious and important than ever. He began to be very much interested indeed.

When she opened the door of the room, he stood upon the threshold and looked about him in amazement. He did not speak; he only put his hands in his pockets and stood there flushing up to his forehead and looking in.

He flushed up because he was so surprised and, for the moment, excited. To see such a place was enough to surprise any ordinary boy.

The room was a large one, too, as all the rooms seemed to be, and it appeared to him more beautiful than the rest, only in a different way. The furniture was not so massive and antique as was that in the rooms he had seen downstairs; the draperies and rugs and walls were brighter; there were shelves full of books, and on the tables were numbers of toys⁠—beautiful, ingenious things⁠—such as he had looked at with wonder and delight through the shop windows in New York.

“It looks like a boy’s room,” he said at last, catching his breath a little. “Whom do they belong to?”

“Go and look at them,” said Dawson. “They belong to you!”

“To me!” he cried; “to me? Why do they belong to me? Who gave them to me?” And he sprang forward with a gay little shout. It seemed almost too much to be believed. “It was Grandpapa!” he said, with his eyes as bright as stars. “I know it was Grandpapa!”

“Yes, it was his lordship,” said Dawson; “and if you will be a nice little gentleman, and not fret about things, and will enjoy yourself, and be happy all the day, he will give you anything you ask for.”

It was a tremendously exciting morning. There were so many things to be examined, so many experiments to be tried; each novelty was so absorbing that he could scarcely turn from it to look at the next. And it was so curious to know that all this had been prepared for himself alone; that, even before he had left New York, people had come down from London to arrange the rooms he was to occupy, and had provided the books and playthings most likely to interest him.

“Did you ever know anyone,” he said to Dawson, “who had such a kind grandfather!”

Dawson’s face wore an uncertain expression for a moment. She had not a very high opinion of his lordship the Earl. She had not been in the house many days, but she had been there long enough to hear the old nobleman’s peculiarities discussed very freely in the servants’ hall.

“An’ of all the wicious, savage, hill-tempered hold fellows it was ever my hill-luck to wear livery hunder,” the tallest footman had said, “he’s the wiolentest and wust by a long shot.”

And this particular footman, whose name was Thomas, had also repeated to his companions below stairs some of the Earl’s remarks to Mr. Havisham, when they had been discussing these very preparations.

“Give him his own way, and fill his rooms with toys,” my lord had said. “Give him what will amuse him, and he’ll forget about his mother quickly enough. Amuse him, and fill his mind with other things, and we shall have no trouble. That’s boy nature.”

So, perhaps, having had this truly amiable object in view, it did not please him so very much to find it did not seem to be exactly this particular boy’s nature. The Earl had passed a bad night and had spent the morning in his room; but at noon, after he had lunched, he sent for his grandson.

Fauntleroy answered the summons at once. He came down the broad staircase with a bounding step; the Earl heard him run across the hall, and then the door opened and he came in with red cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“I was waiting for you to send for me,” he said. “I was ready a long time ago. I’m ever so much obliged to you for all those things! I’m ever so much obliged to you! I have been playing with them all the morning.”

“Oh!” said the Earl, “you like them, do you?”

“I like them so much⁠—well, I couldn’t tell you how much!” said Fauntleroy, his face glowing with delight. “There’s one that’s like baseball, only you play it on a board with black and white pegs, and you keep your score with some counters on a wire. I tried to teach Dawson, but she couldn’t quite understand it just at first⁠—you see, she never played baseball, being a lady; and I’m afraid I wasn’t very good at explaining it to her. But you know all about it, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” replied the Earl. “It’s an American game, isn’t it? Is it something like cricket?”

“I never saw cricket,” said Fauntleroy; “but Mr. Hobbs took me several times to see baseball. It’s a splendid game. You get so excited! Would you like me to go and get my game and show it to you? Perhaps it would amuse you and make you forget about your foot. Does your foot hurt you very much this morning?”

“More than I enjoy,” was the answer.

“Then perhaps you couldn’t forget it,” said the little fellow anxiously. “Perhaps it would bother you to be told about the game. Do you think it would amuse you, or do you think it would bother you?”

“Go and get it,” said the Earl.

It certainly was a novel entertainment this⁠—making a companion of a child who offered to teach him to play games⁠—but the very novelty of it amused him. There was a smile lurking about the Earl’s mouth when Cedric came back with the box containing the game, in his arms, and an expression of the most eager interest on his face.

“May I pull that little table over