His greatest friend was the grocery man at the corner. His name was Mr. Hobbs, and Cedric admired and respected him very much. It was quite surprising how many things they found to talk about-the Fourth of July, for instance. It was, perhaps, Mr. Hobbs who gave him his first interest in politics. Mr. Hobbs was fond of reading the newspapers, and so Cedric heard a great deal about what was going on in Washington; and Mr. Hobbs would tell him whether the President was doing his duty or not. And once, when there was an election, he found it all quite grand, and probably but for Mr. Hobbs and Cedric the country might have been wrecked.
Mr. Hobbs took him to see a great torchlight procession[16], and many of the men who carried torches remembered afterward a stout[17] man who held on his shoulder a handsome little shouting boy, who waved his cap in the air.
It was not long after this election, when Cedric was between seven and eight years old, that the very strange thing happened which made such a wonderful change in his life.
He was in the middle of their conversation with Mr. Hobbs, who was telling him how he hated lords and marquises, calling them grasping tyrants[18], when Mary, an old servant of Mrs. Erroll, appeared.
She looked almost pale and as if she were excited about something.
“Come home, darling,” she said; “the mistress is waiting for you.”
“Does she want me to go out with her, Mary?” he asked. “Good morning, Mr. Hobbs. I’ll see you again.”
When he reached his own house there was a coupe[19] standing before the door and someone was in the little parlor[20] talking to his mamma. A tall, thin old gentleman with a sharp face was sitting in an armchair. His mother was standing nearby with a pale face, and he saw that there were tears in her eyes.
“Oh! Ceddie!” she cried out, and ran to her little boy and caught him in her arms and kissed him in a worried way. “Oh! Ceddie, darling!”
The tall old gentleman stood up from his chair and looked at Cedric with his sharp eyes. He rubbed his thin chin with his skinny hand as he looked.
“And so,” he said at last, slowly, – “and so this is little Lord Fauntleroy.”
>II
There was never a more amazed little boy than Cedric during the week that followed; there was never such a strange or unreal week. In the first place, the story his mamma told him was a very interesting one. He was obliged[21] to hear it two or three times before he could understand it. It began with earls: his grandpapa, whom he had never seen, was an earl; and his eldest uncle, if he had not been killed by a fall from his horse, would have been an earl, too, in time; and after his death, his other uncle would have been an earl, if he had not died suddenly, in Rome, of a fever. After that, his own papa, if he had lived, would have been an earl, but, since they all had died and only Cedric was left, it appeared that HE was to be an earl after his grandpapa’s death-and for the present he was Lord Fauntleroy.
When Mr. Havisham-who was the family lawyer of the Earl of Dorincourt, and who had been sent by him to bring Lord Fauntleroy to England-came the next day, Cedric heard many things. But, somehow, it did not comfort him to hear that he was to be a very rich man when he grew up. He was worried about his friend, Mr. Hobbs, and he went to see him at the store soon after breakfast.
He found him reading the morning paper, and he came to him with a serious look.
“Hello!” said Mr. Hobbs. “Morning!”
“Good morning,” said Cedric.