“You have been doing some rather hard work,” said the Earl.

“Oh, no!” said Lord Fauntleroy, “it wasn’t exactly hard, but I got a little warm.  A person will get warm in summer time.”

And he rubbed his damp curls rather vigorously with the gorgeous handkerchief.  His own chair was placed at the other end of the table, opposite his grandfather’s.  It was a chair with arms, and intended for a much larger individual than himself; indeed, everything he had seen so far,—­the great rooms, with their high ceilings, the massive furniture, the big footman, the big dog, the Earl himself,—­were all of proportions calculated to make this little lad feel that he was very small, indeed.  But that did not trouble him; he had never thought himself very large or important, and he was quite willing to accommodate himself even to circumstances which rather overpowered him.

Perhaps he had never looked so little a fellow as when seated now in his great chair, at the end of the table.  Notwithstanding his solitary existence, the Earl chose to live in some state.  He was fond of his dinner, and he dined in a formal style.  Cedric looked at him across a glitter of splendid glass and plate, which to his unaccustomed eyes seemed quite dazzling.  A stranger looking on might well have smiled at the picture,—­the great stately room, the big liveried servants, the bright lights, the glittering silver and glass, the fierce-looking old nobleman at the head of the table and the very small boy at the foot.  Dinner was usually a very serious matter with the Earl—­and it was a very serious matter with the cook, if his lordship was not pleased or had an indifferent appetite.  To-day, however, his appetite seemed a trifle better than usual, perhaps because he had something to think of beside the flavor of the entrees and the management of the gravies.  His grandson gave him something to think of.  He kept looking at him across the table.  He did not say very much himself, but he managed to make the boy talk.  He had never imagined that he could be entertained by hearing a child talk, but Lord Fauntleroy at once puzzled and amused him, and he kept remembering how he had let the childish shoulder feel his weight just for the sake of trying how far the boy’s courage and endurance would go, and it pleased him to know that his grandson had not quailed and had not seemed to think even for a moment of giving up what he had undertaken to do.

“You don’t wear your coronet all the time?” remarked Lord Fauntleroy respectfully.

“No,” replied the Earl, with his grim smile; “it is not becoming to me.”

“Mr. Hobbs said you always wore it,” said Cedric; “but after he thought it over, he said he supposed you must sometimes take it off to put your hat on.”

“Yes,” said the Earl, “I take it off occasionally.”

And one of the footmen suddenly turned aside and gave a singular little cough behind his hand.