Маленький лорд Фаунтлерой

           Thechildreninthecottageswouldruntothedoortolookattheproudlittlebrownponywiththegallantlittlefiguresittingsostraightinthesaddle,andtheyounglordwouldsnatchoffhiscapandswingitatthem,andshout,“Hullo!Good-morning!”inaveryunlordlymanner,thoughwithgreatheartiness.Sometimeshewouldstopandtalkwiththechildren,andonceWilkinscamebacktothecastlewithastoryofhowFauntleroyhadinsistedondismountingnearthevillageschool,sothataboywhowaslameandtiredmightridehomeonhispony.

           “An’I’mblessed,”saidWilkins,intellingthestoryatthestables,—“I’mblessedifhe’dhearofanythingelse!Hewouldn’tletmegetdown,becausehesaidtheboymightn’tfeelcomfortableonabighorse.An’seshe,’Wilkins,’seshe,’thatboy’slameandI’mnot,andIwanttotalktohim,too.’Anduptheladhastoget,andmylordtrudgesalongsideofhimwithhishandsinhispockets,andhiscaponthebackofhishead,a-whistlingandtalkingaseasyasyouplease!Andwhenwecometothecottage,an’theboy’smothercomeoutallinatakingtoseewhat’sup,hewhipsoffhiscapan’seshe,’I’vebroughtyoursonhome,ma’am,’seshe,’becausehisleghurthim,andIdon’tthinkthatstickisenoughforhimtoleanon;andI’mgoingtoaskmygrandfathertohaveapairofcrutchesmadeforhim.