that in the rooms
he had seen downstairs; the draperies and rugs and walls were brighter;
there were shelves full of books, and on the tables were numbers of
toys,--beautiful, ingenious things,--such as he had looked at with
wonder and delight through the shop windows in New York.

"It looks like a boy's room," he said at last, catching his breath a
little. "Whom do they belong to?"

"Go and look at them," said Dawson. "They belong to you!"

"To me!" he cried; "to me? Why do they belong to me? Who gave them to
me?" And he sprang forward with a gay little shout. It seemed almost
too much to be believed. "It was Grandpapa!" he said, with his eyes as
bright as stars. "I know it was Grandpapa!"

"Yes, it was his lordship," said Dawson; "and if you will be a nice
little gentleman, and not fret about things, and will enjoy yourself,
and be happy all the day, he will give you anything you ask for."

It was a tremendously exciting morning. There were so many things to be
examined, so many experiments to be tried; each novelty was so absorbing
that he could scarcely turn from it to look at the next. And it was so
curious to know that all this had been prepared for himself alone; that,
even before he had left New York, people had come down from London
to arrange the rooms he was to occupy, and had provided the books and
playthings most likely to interest him.

"Did you ever know any one," he said to Dawson, "who had such a kind
grandfather!"

Dawson's face wore an uncertain expression for a moment. She had not
a very high opinion of his lordship the Earl. She had not been in the
house many days, but she had been there long enough to hear the old
nobleman's peculiarities discussed very freely in the servants' hall.

"An' of all the wicious, savage, hill-tempered hold fellows it was ever
my hill-luck to wear livery hunder," the tallest footman had said, "he's
the wiolentest and wust by a long shot."

And this particular footman, whose name was Thomas, had also repeated to
his companions below stairs some of the Earl's remarks to Mr. Havisham,
when they had been discussing these very preparations.

"Give him his own way, and fill his rooms with toys," my lord had said.
"Give him what will amuse him, and he'll forget about his mother quickly
enough. Amuse him, and fill his mind with other things, and we shall
have no trouble. That's boy nature."

So, perhaps, having had this truly amiable object in view, it did not
plea