Cedric finished his dinner first, and then he leaned back in his chair and took a survey of the room.

“You must be very proud of your house,” he said, “it’s such a beautiful house.  I never saw anything so beautiful; but, of course, as I’m only seven, I haven’t seen much.”

“And you think I must be proud of it, do you?” said the Earl.

“I should think any one would be proud of it,” replied Lord Fauntleroy.  “I should be proud of it if it were my house.  Everything about it is beautiful.  And the park, and those trees,—­how beautiful they are, and how the leaves rustle!”

Then he paused an instant and looked across the table rather wistfully.

“It’s a very big house for just two people to live in, isn’t it?” he said.

“It is quite large enough for two,” answered the Earl.  “Do you find it too large?”

His little lordship hesitated a moment.

“I was only thinking,” he said, “that if two people lived in it who were not very good companions, they might feel lonely sometimes.”

“Do you think I shall make a good companion?” inquired the Earl.

“Yes,” replied Cedric, “I think you will.  Mr. Hobbs and I were great friends.  He was the best friend I had except Dearest.”

The Earl made a quick movement of his bushy eyebrows.

“Who is Dearest?”

“She is my mother,” said Lord Fauntleroy, in a rather low, quiet little voice.

Perhaps he was a trifle tired, as his bed-time was nearing, and perhaps after the excitement of the last few days it was natural he should be tired, so perhaps, too, the feeling of weariness brought to him a vague sense of loneliness in the remembrance that to-night he was not to sleep at home, watched over by the loving eyes of that “best friend” of his.  They had always been “best friends,” this boy and his young mother.  He could not help thinking of her, and the more he thought of her the less was he inclined to talk, and by the time the dinner was at an end the Earl saw that there was a faint shadow on his face.  But Cedric bore himself with excellent courage, and when they went back to the library, though the tall footman walked on one side of his master, the Earl’s hand rested on his grandson’s shoulder, though not so heavily as before.

When the footman left them alone, Cedric sat down upon the hearth-rug near Dougal.  For a few minutes he stroked the dog’s ears in silence and looked at the fire.

The Earl watched him.  The boy’s eyes looked wistful and thoughtful, and once or twice he gave a little sigh.  The Earl sat still, and kept his eyes fixed on his grandson.

“Fauntleroy,” he said at last, “what are you thinking of?”

Fauntleroy looked up with a manful effort at a smile.

“I was thinking about Dearest,” he said; “and—­and I think I’d better get up and walk up and down the room.”

He rose up, and put his hands in his small pockets, and began to walk to and fro.  His eyes were very bright, and his lips were pressed together, but he kept his head up and walked firmly.  Dougal moved lazily and looked at him, and then stood up.  He walked over to the child, and began to follow him uneasily.  Fauntleroy drew one hand from his pocket and laid it on the dog’s head.