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"Newick finds out for me," he said, and he pulled his great gray mustache, and looked at his small questioner rather uneasily. "We will go home now," he added; "and when you are an earl, see to it that you are a better earl than I have been!" He was very silent as they rode home.
Newick tells him if he doesn't pay it, he must leave the place; and of course that would be a very serious matter. His wife is ill, and he came to me yesterday to beg me to see about it, and ask you for time. He thinks if you would give him time he could catch up again." "They all think that," said the Earl, looking rather black. Fauntleroy made a movement forward.
The Earl looked down at the hand on his knee. Newick had not forgotten to tell him; in fact, Newick had spoken to him more than once of the desperate condition of the end of the village known as Earl's Court. He knew all about the tumble-down, miserable cottages, and the bad drainage, and the damp walls and broken windows and leaking roofs, and all about the poverty, the fever, and the misery. Mr.
And so though he laughed at himself after some reflection, he sent for Newick, and had quite a long interview with him on the subject of the Court, and it was decided that the wretched hovels should be pulled down and new houses should be built. "It is Lord Fauntleroy who insists on it," he said dryly; "he thinks it will improve the property. You can tell the tenants that it's his idea."
"Yes," answered the Earl dryly; "and I suppose he came to take a look at his new landlord." "Yes, my lord," said the man, his sunburned face reddening. "Mr. Newick told me his young lordship was kind enough to speak for me, and I thought I'd like to say a word of thanks, if I might be allowed."
At last he looked up. "Does Newick know all about the people?" he asked. "It is his business to know about them," said his lordship. "Been neglecting it has he?" Contradictory as it may seem, there was nothing which entertained and edified him more than the little fellow's interest in his tenantry.
"Higgins is a well-meaning man," said the rector, making an effort to strengthen his plea. "He is a bad enough tenant," replied his lordship. "And he is always behindhand, Newick tells me." "He is in great trouble now," said the rector. "He is very fond of his wife and children, and if the farm is taken from him they may literally starve. He can not give them the nourishing things they need.
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."
Then, after a second's pause, in which his face brightened visibly, "YOU can do anything, can't you?" he said. "Humph!" said my lord, staring at him. "That's your opinion, is it?" And he was not displeased either. "I mean you can give any one anything," said Fauntleroy. "Who's Newick?" "He is my agent," answered the earl, "and some of my tenants are not over-fond of him."
"Are you going to write him a letter now?" inquired Fauntleroy. "Shall I bring you the pen and ink? I can take the game off this table." It plainly had not for an instant occurred to him that Newick would be allowed to do his worst. The Earl paused a moment, still looking at him. "Can you write?" he asked. "Yes," answered Cedric, "but not very well."
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