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- Маленький лорд Фаунтлерой
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“
But
if
you
’
ll
believe
me
,
Mrs
.
Jennifer
,
mum
,
”
Mrs
.
Dibble
had
said
,
“
fear
that
child
does
not
know
—
so
Mr
.
Thomas
hisself
says
;
an
’
set
an
’
smile
he
did
,
an
’
talked
to
his
lordship
as
if
they
’
d
been
friends
ever
since
his
first
hour
.
An
’
the
Earl
so
took
aback
,
Mr
.
Thomas
says
,
that
he
couldn
’
t
do
nothing
but
listen
and
stare
from
under
his
eyebrows
.
An
’
it
’
s
Mr
.
Thomas
’
s
opinion
,
Mrs
.
Bates
,
mum
,
that
bad
as
he
is
,
he
was
pleased
in
his
secret
soul
,
an
’
proud
,
too
;
for
a
handsomer
little
fellow
,
or
with
better
manners
,
though
so
old
-
fashioned
,
Mr
.
Thomas
says
he
’
d
never
wish
to
see
.
”
And
then
there
had
come
the
story
of
Higgins
.
The
Reverend
Mr
.
Mordaunt
had
told
it
at
his
own
dinner
table
,
and
the
servants
who
had
heard
it
had
told
it
in
the
kitchen
,
and
from
there
it
had
spread
like
wildfire
.
And
on
market
-
day
,
when
Higgins
had
appeared
in
town
,
he
had
been
questioned
on
every
side
,
and
Newick
had
been
questioned
too
,
and
in
response
had
shown
to
two
or
three
people
the
note
signed
“
Fauntleroy
.
”
And
so
the
farmers
’
wives
had
found
plenty
to
talk
of
over
their
tea
and
their
shopping
,
and
they
had
done
the
subject
full
justice
and
made
the
most
of
it
.
And
on
Sunday
they
had
either
walked
to
church
or
had
been
driven
in
their
gigs
by
their
husbands
,
who
were
perhaps
a
trifle
curious
themselves
about
the
new
little
lord
who
was
to
be
in
time
the
owner
of
the
soil
.
It
was
by
no
means
the
Earl
’
s
habit
to
attend
church
,
but
he
chose
to
appear
on
this
first
Sunday
—
it
was
his
whim
to
present
himself
in
the
huge
family
pew
,
with
Fauntleroy
at
his
side
.
There
were
many
loiterers
in
the
churchyard
,
and
many
lingerers
in
the
lane
that
morning
.
There
were
groups
at
the
gates
and
in
the
porch
,
and
there
had
been
much
discussion
as
to
whether
my
lord
would
really
appear
or
not
.
When
this
discussion
was
at
its
height
,
one
good
woman
suddenly
uttered
an
exclamation
.
“
Eh
,
”
she
said
,
“
that
must
be
the
mother
,
pretty
young
thing
.
”
All
who
heard
turned
and
looked
at
the
slender
figure
in
black
coming
up
the
path
.
The
veil
was
thrown
back
from
her
face
and
they
could
see
how
fair
and
sweet
it
was
,
and
how
the
bright
hair
curled
as
softly
as
a
child
’
s
under
the
little
widow
’
s
cap
.
She
was
not
thinking
of
the
people
about
;
she
was
thinking
of
Cedric
,
and
of
his
visits
to
her
,
and
his
joy
over
his
new
pony
,
on
which
he
had
actually
ridden
to
her
door
the
day
before
,
sitting
very
straight
and
looking
very
proud
and
happy
.
But
soon
she
could
not
help
being
attracted
by
the
fact
that
she
was
being
looked
at
and
that
her
arrival
had
created
some
sort
of
sensation
.
She
first
noticed
it
because
an
old
woman
in
a
red
cloak
made
a
bobbing
courtesy
to
her
,
and
then
another
did
the
same
thing
and
said
,
“
God
bless
you
,
my
lady
!
”
and
one
man
after
another
took
off
his
hat
as
she
passed
.
For
a
moment
she
did
not
understand
,
and
then
she
realized
that
it
was
because
she
was
little
Lord
Fauntleroy
’
s
mother
that
they
did
so
,
and
she
flushed
rather
shyly
and
smiled
and
bowed
too
,
and
said
,
“
Thank
you
,
”
in
a
gentle
voice
to
the
old
woman
who
had
blessed
her
.
To
a
person
who
had
always
lived
in
a
bustling
,
crowded
American
city
this
simple
deference
was
very
novel
,
and
at
first
just
a
little
embarrassing
;
but
after
all
,
she
could
not
help
liking
and
being
touched
by
the
friendly
warm
-
heartedness
of
which
it
seemed
to
speak
.
She
had
scarcely
passed
through
the
stone
porch
into
the
church
before
the
great
event
of
the
day
happened
.
The
carriage
from
the
Castle
,
with
its
handsome
horses
and
tall
liveried
servants
,
bowled
around
the
corner
and
down
the
green
lane
.
