“You are disappointed, I suppose?” suggested his grandfather.

“Oh, no,” responded Cedric politely.  “Of course you would like any one to look like your father; but of course you would enjoy the way your grandfather looked, even if he wasn’t like your father.  You know how it is yourself about admiring your relations.”

The Earl leaned back in his chair and stared.  He could not be said to know how it was about admiring his relations.  He had employed most of his noble leisure in quarreling violently with them, in turning them out of his house, and applying abusive epithets to them; and they all hated him cordially.

“Any boy would love his grandfather,” continued Lord Fauntleroy, “especially one that had been as kind to him as you have been.”

Another queer gleam came into the old nobleman’s eyes.

“Oh!” he said, “I have been kind to you, have I?”

“Yes,” answered Lord Fauntleroy brightly; “I’m ever so much obliged to you about Bridget, and the apple-woman, and Dick.”

“Bridget!” exclaimed the Earl.  “Dick!  The apple-woman!”

“Yes!” explained Cedric; “the ones you gave me all that money for—­the money you told Mr. Havisham to give me if I wanted it.”

“Ha!” ejaculated his lordship.  “That’s it, is it?  The money you were to spend as you liked.  What did you buy with it?  I should like to hear something about that.”

He drew his shaggy eyebrows together and looked at the child sharply.  He was secretly curious to know in what way the lad had indulged himself.

“Oh!” said Lord Fauntleroy, “perhaps you didn’t know about Dick and the apple-woman and Bridget.  I forgot you lived such a long way off from them.  They were particular friends of mine.  And you see Michael had the fever——­”

“Who’s Michael?” asked the Earl.

“Michael is Bridget’s husband, and they were in great trouble.  When a man is sick and can’t work and has twelve children, you know how it is.  And Michael has always been a sober man.  And Bridget used to come to our house and cry.  And the evening Mr. Havisham was there, she was in the kitchen crying, because they had almost nothing to eat and couldn’t pay the rent; and I went in to see her, and Mr. Havisham sent for me and he said you had given him some money for me.  And I ran as fast as I could into the kitchen and gave it to Bridget; and that made it all right; and Bridget could scarcely believe her eyes.  That’s why I’m so obliged to you.”

“Oh!” said the Earl in his deep voice, “that was one of the things you did for yourself, was it?  What else?”

Dougal had been sitting by the tall chair; the great dog had taken its place there when Cedric sat down.  Several times it had turned and looked up at the boy as if interested in the conversation.  Dougal was a solemn dog, who seemed to feel altogether too big to take life’s responsibilities lightly.  The old Earl, who knew the dog well, had watched it with secret interest.  Dougal was not a dog whose habit it was to make acquaintances rashly, and the Earl wondered somewhat to see how quietly the brute sat under the touch of the childish hand.  And, just at this moment, the big dog gave little Lord Fauntleroy one more look of dignified scrutiny, and deliberately laid its huge, lion-like head on the boy’s black-velvet knee.