of losing any time. The carriage rolled slowly away, but his lordship
did not at once lean back; he still looked out. Through a space in the
trees he could see the house door; it was wide open. The little figure
dashed up the steps; another figure--a little figure, too, slender and
young, in its black gown--ran to meet it. It seemed as if they flew
together, as Fauntleroy leaped into his mother's arms, hanging about her
neck and covering her sweet young face with kisses.




VII

On the following Sunday morning, Mr. Mordaunt had a large congregation.
Indeed, he could scarcely remember any Sunday on which the church had
been so crowded. People appeared upon the scene who seldom did him the
honor of coming to hear his sermons.

There were even people from Hazelton, which was the next parish. There
were hearty, sunburned farmers, stout, comfortable, apple-cheeked
wives in their best bonnets and most gorgeous shawls, and half a dozen
children or so to each family. The doctor's wife was there, with her
four daughters. Mrs. Kimsey and Mr. Kimsey, who kept the druggist's
shop, and made pills, and did up powders for everybody within ten
miles, sat in their pew; Mrs. Dibble in hers; Miss Smiff, the village
dressmaker, and her friend Miss Perkins, the milliner, sat in theirs;
the doctor's young man was present, and the druggist's apprentice; in
fact, almost every family on the county side was represented, in one way
or another.