“I don’t like it,” he said once as he was having one of his almost venerable talks with the lawyer.  “You don’t know how much I don’t like it; but there are a great many troubles in this world, and you have to bear them.  Mary says so, and I’ve heard Mr. Hobbs say it too.  And Dearest wants me to like to live with my grandpapa, because, you see, all his children are dead, and that’s very mournful.  It makes you sorry for a man, when all his children have died—­and one was killed suddenly.”

One of the things which always delighted the people who made the acquaintance of his young lordship was the sage little air he wore at times when he gave himself up to conversation;—­combined with his occasionally elderly remarks and the extreme innocence and seriousness of his round childish face, it was irresistible.  He was such a handsome, blooming, curly-headed little fellow, that, when he sat down and nursed his knee with his chubby hands, and conversed with much gravity, he was a source of great entertainment to his hearers.  Gradually Mr. Havisham had begun to derive a great deal of private pleasure and amusement from his society.

“And so you are going to try to like the Earl,” he said.

“Yes,” answered his lordship.  “He’s my relation, and of course you have to like your relations; and besides, he’s been very kind to me.  When a person does so many things for you, and wants you to have everything you wish for, of course you’d like him if he wasn’t your relation; but when he’s your relation and does that, why, you’re very fond of him.”

“Do you think,” suggested Mr. Havisham, “that he will be fond of you?”

“Well,” said Cedric, “I think he will, because, you see, I’m his relation, too, and I’m his boy’s little boy besides, and, well, don’t you see—­of course he must be fond of me now, or he wouldn’t want me to have everything that I like, and he wouldn’t have sent you for me.”

“Oh!” remarked the lawyer, “that’s it, is it?”

“Yes,” said Cedric, “that’s it.  Don’t you think that’s it, too?  Of course a man would be fond of his grandson.”

The people who had been seasick had no sooner recovered from their seasickness, and come on deck to recline in their steamer-chairs and enjoy themselves, than every one seemed to know the romantic story of little Lord Fauntleroy, and every one took an interest in the little fellow, who ran about the ship or walked with his mother or the tall, thin old lawyer, or talked to the sailors.  Every one liked him; he made friends everywhere.  He was ever ready to make friends.  When the gentlemen walked up and down the deck, and let him walk with them, he stepped out with a manly, sturdy little tramp, and answered all their jokes with much gay enjoyment; when the ladies talked to him, there was always laughter in the group of which he was the center; when he played with the children, there was always magnificent fun on hand.  Among the sailors he had the heartiest friends; he