“There!” [he panted,] as they drew up, “I c-cantered.”
He and Wilkins and the pony were close friends after that. Scarcely a day passed on which the country people did not see them out together, cantering gaily on the highroad or through the green lanes. The children in the cottages would run to the door to look at the proud little brown pony with the gallant little figure sitting so straight in the saddle, and the young lord would [snatch off] his cap and swing it at them, and shout, “Hallo! Good morning!” in a very unlordly manner, though with great heartiness. Sometimes he would stop and talk with the children, and once Wilkins came back to the Castle with a story of how Fauntleroy had insisted on dismounting near the village school, so that a boy who was lame and tired might ride home on his pony.
[“An’ I’m blessed,”] said Wilkins, in telling the story at the stables,—“I’m blessed if he’d hear of anything else! He wouldn’t let me get down, because he said the boy mightn’t feel comfortable on a big horse. An’ [ses] he, ’Wilkins,’ ses he, ’that boy’s lame and I’m not, and I want to talk to him too.’ And up the lad has to get, and my lord [trudges] alongside of him with his hands in his pockets. And when we come to the cottage, an’ the boy’s mother comes out to see [what’s up,] [he whips off] his cap an’ ses he, ’I’ve brought your son home, ma’am,’ ses he, ’because his leg hurt him, and I don’t think that stick is enough for him to lean on; and I’m going to ask my grandfather to have a pair of crutches made for him.’”
When the Earl heard the story, he was not angry, as Wilkins had been half afraid that he would be; on the contrary, he laughed outright, and called Fauntleroy up to him, and made him tell all about the matter from beginning to end, and then he laughed again. And actually, a few days later, the Dorincourt carriage stopped in the green lane before the cottage where the lame boy lived, and Fauntleroy jumped out and walked up to the door, carrying a pair of strong, light, new crutches, and presented them to Mrs. Hartle (the lame boy’s name was Hartle) with these words: “My grandfather’s compliments, and if you please, these are for your boy, and we hope he will get better.”
“I said your compliments,” he explained to the Earl when he returned to the carriage. “You didn’t tell me to, but I thought perhaps you forgot. That was right, wasn’t it?”
And the Earl laughed again, and did not say it was not. In fact, the two were becoming more intimate every day, and every day Fauntleroy’s faith in his lordship’s benevolence and virtue increased. He had no doubt whatever that his grandfather was the most amiable and generous of elderly gentlemen. Certainly, he himself found his wishes gratified almost before they were uttered; and such gifts and pleasures were lavished upon him, that he was sometimes almost bewildered by his own possessions. Perhaps, notwithstanding his sweet nature, he might have been somewhat spoiled by it, if it had not been for the hours he spent with his mother at Court Lodge. That “best friend” of his watched over him very [closely] and tenderly. The two had many long talks together, and he never went back to the Castle with her kisses on his cheeks without carrying in his heart some simple, pure words worth remembering.
There was one thing, it is true, which puzzled the little fellow very much. He thought over the mystery of it much oftener than any one supposed; even his mother did not know how often he pondered on it; the Earl for a long time never suspected that he did so at all. But being quick to observe, the little boy could not help wondering why it was that his mother and grandfather never seemed to meet. He had noticed that they never did meet. 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 cannot 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!”