ly well. 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 over 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. When the Dorincourt carriage stopped at
Court Lodge, the Earl never alighted, and on the rare occasions of his
lordship's going to church, Fauntleroy was always 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