He put his big hand on the little boy's hair. This was more embarrassing than ever.
"Thank you," said Ceddie; "I'm all right. There is nothing the matter with my head. I'm sorry to say it's true, Mr. Hobbs. That was what Mary came to take me home for. Mr. Havisham was telling my mamma, and he is a lawyer."
Mr. Hobbs sank into his chair and mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.
"One of us has got a sunstroke!" he exclaimed.
"No," returned Cedric, "we have n't. We shall have to make the best of it, Mr. Hobbs. Mr. Havisham came all the way from England to tell us about it. My grandpapa sent him."
Mr. Hobbs stared wildly at the innocent, serious little face before him.
"Who is your grandfather?" he asked.
Cedric put his hand in his pocket and carefully drew out a piece of paper, on which something was written in his own round, irregular hand.
"I could n't easily remember it, so I wrote it down on this," he said. And he read aloud slowly: "'John Arthur Molyneux Errol, Earl of Dorincourt.' That is his name, and he lives in a castle—in two or three castles, I think. And my papa, who died, was his youngest son; and I should n't have been a lord or an earl if my papa had n't died; and my papa would n't have been an earl if his two brothers had n't died. But they all died, and there is no one but me,—no boy,—and so I have to be one; and my grandpapa has sent for me to come to England."
Mr. Hobbs seemed to grow hotter and hotter. He mopped his forehead and his bald spot and breathed hard. He began to see that something very remarkable had happened; but when he looked at the little boy sitting on the cracker-box, with the innocent, anxious
