Mr. Havisham sat in an arm-chair on one side of the open window; on the other side was another still larger chair, and Cedric sat in that and looked at Mr. Havisham.  He sat well back in the depths of his big seat, his curly head against the cushioned back, his legs crossed, and his hands thrust deep into his pockets, in a quite Mr. Hobbs-like way.  He had been watching Mr. Havisham very steadily when his mamma had been in the room, and after she was gone he still looked at him in respectful thoughtfulness.  There was a short silence after Mrs. Errol went out, and Cedric seemed to be studying Mr. Havisham, and Mr. Havisham was certainly studying Cedric.  He could not make up his mind as to what an elderly gentleman should say to a little boy who won races, and wore short knickerbockers and red stockings on legs which were not long enough to hang over a big chair when he sat well back in it.

But Cedric relieved him by suddenly beginning the conversation himself.

“Do you know,” he said, “I don’t know what an earl is?”

“Don’t you?” said Mr. Havisham.

“No,” replied Ceddie.  “And I think when a boy is going to be one, he ought to know.  Don’t you?”

“Well—­yes,” answered Mr. Havisham.

“Would you mind,” said Ceddie respectfully—­“would you mind ’splaining it to me?” (Sometimes when he used his long words he did not pronounce them quite correctly.) “What made him an earl?”

“A king or queen, in the first place,” said Mr. Havisham.  “Generally, he is made an earl because he has done some service to his sovereign, or some great deed.”

“Oh!” said Cedric; “that’s like the President.”

“Is it?” said Mr. Havisham.  “Is that why your presidents are elected?”

“Yes,” answered Ceddie cheerfully.  “When a man is very good and knows a great deal, he is elected president.  They have torch-light processions and bands, and everybody makes speeches.  I used to think I might perhaps be a president, but I never thought of being an earl.  I didn’t know about earls,” he said, rather hastily, lest Mr. Havisham might feel it impolite in him not to have wished to be one,—­“if I’d known about them, I dare say I should have thought I should like to be one.”

“It is rather different from being a president,” said Mr. Havisham.

“Is it?” asked Cedric.  “How?  Are there no torch-light processions?”

Mr. Havisham crossed his own legs and put the tips of his fingers carefully together.  He thought perhaps the time had come to explain matters rather more clearly.

“An earl is—­is a very important person,” he began.

“So is a president!” put in Ceddie.  “The torch-light processions are five miles long, and they shoot up rockets, and the band plays!  Mr. Hobbs took me to see them.”

“An earl,” Mr. Havisham went on, feeling rather uncertain of his ground, “is frequently of very ancient lineage——­”