Маленький лорд Фаунтлерой

           I’msorrytosayit’strue,Mr.Hobbs.ThatwaswhatMarycametotakemehomefor.Mr.Havishamwastellingmymamma,andheisalawyer.”

           Mr.Hobbssankintohischairandmoppedhisforeheadwithhishandkerchief.

           “ONEofushasgotasunstroke!”heexclaimed.

           “No,”returnedCedric,“wehaven’t.Weshallhavetomakethebestofit,Mr.Hobbs.Mr.HavishamcameallthewayfromEnglandtotellusaboutit.Mygrandpapasenthim.”

           Mr.Hobbsstaredwildlyattheinnocent,seriouslittlefacebeforehim.

           “Whoisyourgrandfather?”heasked.

           Cedricputhishandinhispocketandcarefullydrewoutapieceofpaper,onwhichsomethingwaswritteninhisownround,irregularhand.

           “Icouldn’teasilyrememberit,soIwroteitdownonthis,”hesaid.Andhereadaloudslowly:“’JohnArthurMolyneuxErrol,EarlofDorincourt.’Thatishisname,andhelivesinacastle—intwoorthreecastles,Ithink.Andmypapa,whodied,washisyoungestson;andIshouldn’thavebeenalordoranearlifmypapahadn’tdied;andmypapawouldn’thavebeenanearlifhistwobrothershadn’tdied.Buttheyalldied,andthereisnoonebutme,—noboy,—andsoIhavetobeone;andmygrandpapahassentformetocometoEngland.”

           Mr.Hobbsseemedtogrowhotterandhotter.Hemoppedhisforeheadandhisbaldspotandbreathedhard.