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78 LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.
‘“T was born in America,” he protested. " You have to be an
American if you are born in America. | beg your pardon,” with
serious politeness and delicacy, "for contradicting you. Mr. Hobbs
told me, if there were another war, you know, I should have to—to
be an American.”
The Earl gave a grim half laugh—it was short and grim, but
it was a laugh.
‘You would, would you?" he said.
He hated America and Americans, but it amused him to see
how serious and interested this small patriot was. He thought that
so good an American might make a rather good Englishman when
he was a man.
They had not time to go very deep into the Revolution
again—and indeed Lord Fauntleroy felt some delicacy about
returning to the subject — before dinner was announced.
Cedric left his chair and went to his noble kinsman. He looked
down at his gouty foot.
“Would you like me to help you?” he said politely. " You could
lean on me, you know. Once when Mr. Hobbs hurt his foot with a
potato-barrel rolling on it, he used to lean on me.”
The big footman almost periled his reputation and his situation
by smiling. He was an aristocratic footman who had always lived
in the best of noble families, and he had never smiled; indeed, he
would have felt himself a disgraced and vulgar footman if he had
allowed himself to be led by any circumstance whatever into such an
indiscretion as a smile. But he had a very narrow escape. He only
just saved himself by staring straight over the Earl’s head at a very
ugly picture.
The Earl looked his valiant young relative over from head
to foot.
‘Do you think you could do it?” he asked gruffly.