left to speak to his mother in the porch alone, or perhaps to go home with her.  And yet, every day, fruit and flowers were sent to Court Lodge from the hot-houses at the Castle.  But the one virtuous action of the Earl’s which had set him upon the pinnacle of perfection in Cedric’s eyes, was what he had done soon after that first Sunday when Mrs. Errol had walked home from church unattended.  About a week later, when Cedric was going one day to visit his mother, he found at the door, instead of the large carriage and prancing pair, a pretty little brougham and a handsome bay horse.

“That is a present from you to your mother,” the Earl said abruptly.  “She can not go walking about the country.  She needs a carriage.  The man who drives will take charge of it.  It is a present from you.”

Fauntleroy’s delight could but feebly express itself.  He could scarcely contain himself until he reached the lodge.  His mother was gathering roses in the garden.  He flung himself out of the little brougham and flew to her.

“Dearest!” he cried, “could you believe it?  This is yours!  He says it is a present from me.  It is your own carriage to drive everywhere in!”

He was so happy that she did not know what to say.  She could not have borne to spoil his pleasure by refusing to accept the gift even though it came from the man who chose to consider himself her enemy.  She was obliged to step into the carriage, roses and all, and let herself be taken to drive, while Fauntleroy told her stories of his grandfather’s goodness and amiability.  They were such innocent stories that sometimes she could not help laughing a little, and then she would draw her little boy closer to her side and kiss him, feeling glad that he could see only good in the old man, who had so few friends.

The very next day after that, Fauntleroy wrote to Mr. Hobbs.  He wrote quite a long letter, and after the first copy was written, he brought it to his grandfather to be inspected.

“Because,” he said, “it’s so uncertain about the spelling.  And if you’ll tell me the mistakes, I’ll write it out again.”

This was what he had written: 

“My dear mr hobbs i want to tell you about my granfarther he is the best earl you ever new it is a mistake about earls being tirents he is not a tirent at all i wish you new him you would be good friends i am sure you would he has the gout in his foot and is a grate sufrer but he is so pashent i love him more every day becaus no one could help loving an earl like that who is kind to every one in this world i wish you could talk to him he knows everything in the world you can ask him any question but he has never plaid base ball he has given me a pony and a cart and my mamma a bewtifle cariage and I have three rooms and toys of all kinds it would serprise you you would like the castle and the park it is such a large castle you could lose yourself wilkins tells me wilkins is my groom he says there is a dungon under