auntleroy," said the Earl. "They are bowing to
you."

"To me!" cried Fauntleroy, whipping off his cap in a moment, baring his
bright head to the crowd and turning shining, puzzled eyes on them as he
tried to bow to every one at once.

"God bless your lordship!" said the curtsying, red-cloaked old woman who
had spoken to his mother; "long life to you!"

"Thank you, ma'am," said Fauntleroy. And then they went into the church,
and were looked at there, on their way up the aisle to the square,
red-cushioned and curtained pew. When Fauntleroy was fairly seated he
made two discoveries which pleased him: the first was that, across the
church where he could look at her, his mother sat and smiled at him; the
second, that at one end of the pew against the wall, knelt two quaint
figures carven in stone, facing each other as they kneeled on either
side of a pillar supporting two stone missals, their pointed hands
folded as if in prayer, their dress very antique and strange. On the
tablet by them was written something of which he could only read the
curious words:

"Here lyethe ye bodye of Gregorye Arthure Fyrst Earle of Dorincort
allsoe of Alysone Hildegarde hys wyfe."

"May I whisper?" inquired his lordship, devoured by curiosity.

"What is it?" said his grandfather.

"Who are they?"

"Some of your ancestors," answered the Earl, "who lived a few hundred
years ago."

"Perhaps," said Lord Fauntleroy, regarding them with respect, "perhaps I
got my spelling from them." And then he proceeded to find his place in
the church service. When the music began, he stood up and looked across
at his mother, smiling. He was very fond of music, and his mother and he
often sang together, so he joined in with the rest, his pure, sweet,
high voice rising as clear as the song of a bird. He quite forgot
himself in his pleasure in it. The Earl forgot himself a little too, as
he sat in his curtain-shielded corner of the pew and watched the boy.
Cedric stood with the big psalter open in his hands, singing with all
his childish might, his face a little uplifted, happily; and as he sang,
a long ray of sunshine crept in and, slanting through a golden pane of a
stained glass window, brightened the falling hair about his young head.
His mother, as she looked at him across the church, felt a thrill pass
through her heart, and a prayer rose in it too; a prayer that the pure,
simple happiness of his childish soul might last, and that the strange,
grea