and poor, the people of the village, honest and industrious, dishonest
and lazy, he realized very strongly what power for good or evil would be
given in the future to this one small boy standing there, his brown eyes
wide open, his hands deep in his pockets; and the thought came to him
also that a great deal of power might, perhaps, through the caprice of
a proud, self-indulgent old man, be given to him now, and that if his
young nature were not a simple and generous one, it might be the worst
thing that could happen, not only for others, but for himself.

"And what would YOU do in such a case?" demanded the Earl.

Fauntleroy drew a little nearer, and laid one hand on his knee, with the
most confiding air of good comradeship.

"If I were very rich," he said, "and not only just a little boy, I
should let him stay, and give him the things for his children; but
then, I am only a boy." 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."