Chapter 11　Anxiety in America

When Mr. Hobbs's young friend left him to go to Dorincourt Castle and become Lord Fauntleroy, and the grocery-man had time to realize that the Atlantic Ocean lay between himself and the small companion who had spent so many agreeable hours in his society, he really began to feel very lonely indeed. The fact was, Mr. Hobbs was not a clever man nor even a bright one; he was, indeed, rather a slow and heavy person, and he had never made many acquaintances. He was not mentally energetic enough to know how to amuse himself, and in truth he never did anything of an entertaining nature but read the newspapers and add up his accounts. It was not very easy for him to add up his accounts, and sometimes it took him a long time to bring them out right; and in the old days, little Lord Fauntleroy, who had learned how to add up quite nicely with his fingers and a slate and pencil, had sometimes even gone to the length of trying to help him; and, then too, he had been so good a listener and had taken such an interest in what the newspaper said, and he and Mr. Hobbs had held such long conversations about the Revolution and the British and the elections and the Republican party, that it was no wonder his going left a blank in the grocery store. At first it seemed to Mr. Hobbs that Cedric was not really far away, and would come back again; that some day he would look up from his paper and see the little lad standing in the doorway, in his white suit and red stockings, and with his straw hat on the back of his head, and would hear him say in his cheerful little voice: "Hello, Mr. Hobbs! This is a hot day—isn't it?" But as the days passed on and this did not happen, Mr. Hobbs felt very dull and uneasy. He did not even enjoy his newspaper as much as he used to. He would put the paper down on his knee after reading it, and sit and stare at the high stool for a long time. There were some marks on the long legs which made him feel quite dejected and melancholy. They were marks made by the heels of the next Earl of Dorincourt, when he kicked and talked at the same time. It seems that even youthful earls kick the legs of things they sit on;—noble blood and lofty lineage do not prevent it. After looking at those marks, Mr. Hobbs would take out his gold watch and open it and stare at the inscription: "From his oldest friend, Lord Fauntleroy, to Mr. Hobbs. When this you see, remember me." And after staring at it awhile, he would shut it up with a loud snap, and sigh and get up and go and stand in the doorway—between the box of potatoes and the barrel of apples—and look up the street. At night, when the store was closed, he would light his pipe and walk slowly along the pavement until he reached the house where Cedric had lived, on which there was a sign that read, "This House to Let"; and he would stop near it and look up and shake his head, and puff at his pipe very hard, and after a while walk mournfully back again.

This went on for two or three weeks before any new idea came to him. Being slow and ponderous, it always took him a long time to reach a new idea. As a rule, he did not like new ideas, but preferred old ones. After two or three weeks, however, during which, instead of getting better, matters really grew worse, a novel plan slowly and deliberately dawned upon him. He would go to see Dick. He smoked a great many pipes before he arrived at the conclusion, but finally he did arrive at it. He would go to see Dick. He knew all about Dick. Cedric had told him, and his idea was that perhaps Dick might be some comfort to him in the way of talking things over.

So one day when Dick was very hard at work blacking a customer's boots, a short, stout man with a heavy face and a bald head stopped on the pavement and stared for two or three minutes at the bootblack's sign, which read:

PROFESSOR DICK TIPTON CAN'T BE BEAT.

He stared at it so long that Dick began to take a lively interest in him, and when he had put the finishing touch to his customer's boots, he said:

Want a shine, sir?

The stout man came forward deliberately and put his foot on the rest.

Yes, he said.

Then when Dick fell to work, the stout man looked from Dick to the sign and from the sign to Dick.

Where did you get that? he asked.

From a friend o' mine, said Dick,—"a little feller. He guv' me the whole outfit. He was the best little feller ye ever saw. He's in England now. Gone to be one o' them lords."

Lord—Lord— asked Mr. Hobbs, with ponderous slowness, "Lord Fauntleroy—Goin' to be Earl of Dorincourt?"

Dick almost dropped his brush.

Why, boss! he exclaimed,"d' ye know him yerself?"

I've known him, answered Mr. Hobbs, wiping his warm forehead, "ever since he was born. We was lifetime acquaintances—that's what WE was."

It really made him feel quite agitated to speak of it. He pulled the splendid gold watch out of his pocket and opened it, and showed the inside of the case to Dick.

When this you see, remember me,' he read. "That was his parting keepsake to me 'I don't want you to forget me'—those was his words—I'd ha' remembered him," he went on, shaking his head, "if he hadn't given me a thing an' I hadn't seen hide nor hair on him again. He was a companion as ANY man would remember."

He was the nicest little feller I ever see, said Dick. "An' as to sand—I never seen so much sand to a little feller. I thought a heap o' him, I did,—an' we was friends, too—we was sort o' chums from the fust, that little young un an' me. I grabbed his ball from under a stage fur him, an' he never forgot it; an' he'd come down here, he would, with his mother or his nuss and he'd holler: 'Hello, Dick!' at me, as friendly as if he was six feet high, when he warn't knee high to a grasshopper, and was dressed in gal's col'es. He was a gay little chap, and when you was down on your luck, it did you good to talk to him."

That's so, said Mr. Hobbs. "It was a pity to make a earl out of HIM. He would have SHONE in the grocery business—or dry goods either; he would have SHONE!" And he shook his head with deeper regret than ever.

It proved that they had so much to say to each other that it was not possible to say it all at one time, and so it was agreed that the next night Dick should make a visit to the store and keep Mr. Hobbs company. The plan pleased Dick well enough. He had been a street waif nearly all his life, but he had never been a bad boy, and he had always had a private yearning for a more respectable kind of existence. Since he had been in business for himself, he had made enough money to enable him to sleep under a roof instead of out in the streets, and he had begun to hope he might reach even a higher plane, in time. So, to be invited to call on a stout, respectable man who owned a corner store, and even had a horse and wagon, seemed to him quite an event.

Do you know anything about earls and castles? Mr. Hobbs inquired. "I'd like to know more of the particklars."

There's a story about some on 'em in the Penny Story Gazette, said Dick. "It's called the 'Crime of a Coronet; or, The Revenge of the Countess May.' It's a boss thing, too. Some of us boys 're takin' it to read."

Bring it up when you come, said Mr. Hobbs, "an' I'll pay for it. Bring all you can find that have any earls in 'em. If there aren't earls, markises'll do, or dooks—though HE never made mention of any dooks or markises. We did go over coronets a little, but I never happened to see any. I guess they don't keep 'em ' round here."

Tiffany'd have 'em if anybody did, said Dick, "but I don't know as I'd know one if I saw it."

Mr. Hobbs did not explain that he would not have known one if he saw it, he merely shook his head ponderously.

I s'pose there is very little call for 'em, he said, and that ended the matter.

This was the beginning of quite a substantial friendship. When Dick went up to the store, Mr. Hobbs received him with great hospitality. He gave him a chair tilted against the door, near a barrel of apples, and after his young visitor was seated, he made a jerk at them with the hand in which he held his pipe, saying:

Help yerself.

Then he looked at the story papers, and after that they read and discussed the British aristocracy; and Mr. Hobbs smoked his pipe very hard and shook his head a great deal. He shook it most when he pointed out the high stool with the marks on its legs.

There's his very kicks, he said impressively; "his very kicks. I sit and look at 'em by the hour. This is a world of ups an' it's a world of downs. Why, he'd set there, an' eat crackers out of a box, an' apples out of a barrel, an' pitch his cores into the street; an' now he's a lord a-livin' in a castle. Them's a lord's kicks; they'll be a earl's kicks some day. Sometimes I says to myself, says I, 'Well, I'll be jiggered!'"

He seemed to derive a great deal of comfort from his reflections and Dick's visit. Before Dick went home, they had a supper in the small backroom; they had crackers and cheese and sardines, and other canned things out of the store, and Mr. Hobbs solemnly opened two bottles of ginger ale, and pouring out two glasses, proposed a toast.

Here's to HIM! he said, lifting his glass, "an' may he teach 'em a lesson—earls an' markises an' dooks an' all!"

After that night, the two saw each other often, and Mr. Hobbs was much more comfortable and less desolate. They read the Penny Story Gazette, and many other interesting things, and gained a knowledge of the habits of the nobility and gentry which would have surprised those despised classes if they had realized it. One day Mr. Hobbs made a pilgrimage to a book store down town, for the express purpose of adding to their library. He went to the clerk and leaned over the counter to speak to him.

I want, he said, "a book about earls."

What! exclaimed the clerk.

A book, repeated the grocery-man, "about earls."

I'm afraid, said the clerk, looking rather queer, "that we haven't what you want."

Haven't? said Mr. Hobbs, anxiously. "Well, say markises then—or dooks."

I know of no such book, answered the clerk.

Mr. Hobbs was much disturbed. He looked down on the floor,—then he looked up.

None about female earls? he inquired.

I'm afraid not, said the clerk with a smile.

Well, exclaimed Mr. Hobbs, "I'll be jiggered!"

He was just going out of the store, when the clerk called him back and asked him if a story in which the nobility were chief characters would do. Mr. Hobbs said it would—if he could not get an entire volume devoted to earls. So the clerk sold him a book called "The Tower of London," written by Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, and he carried it home.

When Dick came they began to read it. It was a very wonderful and exciting book, and the scene was laid in the reign of the famous English queen who is called by some people Bloody Mary. And as Mr. Hobbs heard of Queen Mary's deeds and the habit she had of chopping people's heads off, putting them to the torture, and burning them alive, he became very much excited. He took his pipe out of his mouth and stared at Dick, and at last he was obliged to mop the perspiration from his brow with his red pocket handkerchief.

Why, he ain't safe! he said. "He ain't safe! If the women folks can sit up on their thrones an' give the word for things like that to be done, who's to know what's happening to him this very minute? He's no more safe than nothing! Just let a woman like that get mad, an' no one's safe!"

Well, said Dick, though he looked rather anxious himself; "ye see this 'ere un isn't the one that's bossin' things now. I know her name's Victory, an' this un here in the book, her name's Mary."

So it is, said Mr. Hobbs, still mopping his forehead; "so it is. An' the newspapers are not sayin' anything about any racks, thumb-screws, or stakeburnin's,—but still it doesn't seem as if 't was safe for him over there with those queer folks. Why, they tell me they don't keep the Fourth o' July!"

He was privately uneasy for several days; and it was not until he received Fauntleroy's letter and had read it several times, both to himself and to Dick, and had also read the letter Dick got about the same time, that he became composed again.

But they both found great pleasure in their letters. They read and reread them, and talked them over and enjoyed every word of them. And they spent days over the answers they sent and read them over almost as often as the letters they had received.

It was rather a labor for Dick to write his. All his knowledge of reading and writing he had gained during a few months, when he had lived with his elder brother, and had gone to a night-school; but, being a sharp boy, he had made the most of that brief education, and had spelled out things in newspapers since then, and practiced writing with bits of chalk on pavements or walls or fences. He told Mr. Hobbs all about his life and about his elder brother, who had been rather good to him after their mother died, when Dick was quite a little fellow. Their father had died some time before. The brother's name was Ben, and he had taken care of Dick as well as he could, until the boy was old enough to sell newspapers and run errands. They had lived together, and as he grew older Ben had managed to get along until he had quite in a store.

And then, exclaimed Dick with disgust, "blest if he didn't go an' marry a gal! Just went and got spoony an' hadn't any more sense left! Married her, an' set up housekeepin' in two back rooms. An' a hefty un she was, —a regular tiger-cat. She'd tear things to pieces when she got mad, —and she was mad ALL the time. Had a baby just like her, —yell day 'n' night! An' if I didn't have to 'tend it! an' when it screamed, she'd fire things at me. She fired a plate at me one day, an' hit the baby—cut its chin. Doctor said he'd carry the mark till he died. A nice mother she was! Crackey! But didn't we have a time—Ben 'n' mehself 'n' the young un. She was mad at Ben because he didn't make money faster; 'n' at last he went out West with a man to set up a cattle ranch. An' hadn't been gone a week' fore one night, I got home from sellin' my papers, 'n’ the rooms wus locked up 'n' empty, 'n' the woman o' the house, she told me Minna'd gone—shown a clean pair o' heels. Some un else said she'd gone across the water to be nuss to a lady as had a little baby, too. Never heard a word of her since—nuther has Ben. If I'd ha' bin him, I wouldn't ha' fretted a bit—'n' I guess he didn't. But he thought a heap o' her at the start. Tell you, he was spoons on her. She was a daisy-lookin' gal, too, when she was dressed up 'n' not mad. She'd big black eyes 'n' black hair down to her knees; she'd make it into a rope as big as your arm, and twist it 'round 'n' 'round her head; 'n' I tell you her eyes 'd snap! Folks used to say she was part Itali-un—said her mother or father 'd come from there, 'n' it made her queer. I tell ye, she was one of 'em—she was!"

He often told Mr. Hobbs stories of her and of his brother Ben, who, since his going out West, had written once or twice to Dick.

Ben's luck had not been good, and he had wandered from place to place; but at last he had settled on a ranch in California, where he was at work at the time when Dick became acquainted with Mr. Hobbs.

That gal, said Dick one day, "she took all the grit out o' him. I couldn't help feelin' sorry for him sometimes."

They were sitting in the store door-way together, and Mr. Hobbs was filling his pipe.

He oughtn't to 've married, he said solemnly, as he rose to get a match. "Women—I never could see any use in 'em myself."

As he took the match from its box, he stopped and looked down on the counter.

Why! he said, "if here isn't a letter! I didn't see it before. The postman must have laid it down when I wasn't noticin', or the newspaper slipped over it."

He picked it up and looked at it carefully.

It's from HIM! he exclaimed. "That's the very one it's from!"

He forgot his pipe altogether. He went back to his chair quite excited and took his pocket-knife and opened the envelope.

I wonder what news there is this time, he said.

And then he unfolded the letter and read as follows:

DORINCOURT CASTLE.

My dear Mr. Hobbs.

I write this in a great hury becaus i have something curous to tell you i know you will be very mutch suprised my dear frend when i tel you. It is all a mistake and i am not a lord and I shall not have to be an earl there is a lady whitch was marid to my uncle bevis who is dead and she has a little boy and he is lord fauntleroy becaus that is the way it is in England the earls eldest sons little boy is the earl if every body else is dead i mean if his farther and grandfarther are dead my grandfarther is not dead but my uncle bevis is and so his boy is lord Fauntleroy and i am not becaus my papa was the youngest son and my name is Cedric Errol like it was when i was in New York and all the things will belong to the other boy i thought at first i should have to give him my pony and cart but my grandfarther says i need not my grandfarther is very sorry and i think he does not like the lady but preaps he thinks dearest and i are sorry because i shall not be an earl i would like to be an earl now better than i thout i would at first becaus this is a beautifle castle and i like every body so and when you are rich you can do so many things i am not rich now becaus when your papa is only the youngest son he is not very rich i am going to learn to work so that i can take care of dearest i have been asking Wilkins about grooming horses preaps i might be a groom or a coachman. The lady brought her little boy to the castle and my grandfarther and Mr. Havisham talked to her i think she was angry she talked loud and my grandfarther was angry too i never saw him angry before i wish it did not make them all mad i thort i would tell you and Dick right away becaus you would be intrusted so no more at present with love from.

your old frend.

CEDRIC ERROL (Not lord Fauntleroy).

Mr. Hobbs fell back in his chair, the letter dropped on his knee, his penknife slipped to the floor, and so did the envelope.

Well! he ejaculated, "I am jiggered!"

He was so dumfounded that he actually changed his exclamation.

It had always been his habit to say, "I WILL be jiggered," but this time he said, "I AM jiggered." Perhaps he really WAS jiggered. There is no knowing.

Well, said Dick, "the whole thing's bust up, hasn't it?"

Bust! said Mr. Hobbs. "It's my opinion it's a put-up job o' the British ristycrats to rob him of his rights because he's an American. They've had a spite agin us ever since the Revolution, an' they're takin' it out on him. I told you he wasn't safe, an' see what's happened! Like as not, the whole gover'ment's got together to rob him of his lawful ownin's."

He was very much agitated. He had not approved of the change in his young friend's circumstances at first, but lately he had become more reconciled to it, and after the receipt of Cedric's letter he had perhaps even felt some secret pride in his young friend's magnificence. He might not have a good opinion of earls, but he knew that even in America money was considered rather an agreeable thing, and if all the wealth and grandeur were to go with the title, it must be rather hard to lose it.

They're trying to rob him! he said, "that's what they're doing, and folks that have money ought to look after him."

And he kept Dick with him until quite a late hour to talk it over, and when that young man left, he went with him to the corner of the street; and on his way back he stopped opposite the empty house for some time, staring at the "To Let," and smoking his pipe, in much disturbance of mind.

第十一章　美国的焦虑

霍布斯先生年幼的朋友离开了他，去了多林考特城堡，成为方特勒罗伊勋爵。过了一段时间，这位杂货店老板才意识到，在他自己和那个小伙伴之间，横亘着大西洋。那孩子曾跟他在一起，度过了那么多舒坦的时光，现在他真正感到了孤独。事实是，霍布斯先生不是一个聪明人，甚至不是一个明白人；实际上，他是一个挺迟钝、挺笨拙的人，他从未交过很多朋友。他在智力上不足以知道如何来自娱自乐，事实上，除了看看报纸，算算账目，他从未做过别的乐事。对他来说，算账可不是一件容易的事。有时候，他要花很长时间，才能把账算准确。过去，方特勒罗伊学会了怎样算账，他用手指头、写字板和铅笔来算，算得还相当准确。有时候，他甚至竭力帮助霍布斯先生算账呢。那时，他也一直是一个很好的倾听者，对报纸所讲的东西极有兴趣，关于战争、英国人、选举和共和党，他们俩曾进行过好多次长谈。毫无疑问，塞得里克的离去给杂货店里留下了空白。一开始，霍布斯先生似乎觉得，塞德里克并没有真的走得很远，而且还会回来的。有朝一日，当他从报纸上抬起目光，会看见小家伙站在门口，穿着白色的套装、红色的长袜，后脑勺上戴着草帽。他会听见他用奶声奶气的声音说：“喂，霍布斯先生！今儿天很热——是吗？”可是日子一天天地过去，这样的美事再也没有发生。霍布斯先生感到非常沉闷、焦躁。他甚至不再像以前那样喜欢看报纸了。他读完后，把报纸放在膝盖上，久久地坐着，盯看着那只高凳子。使他感到沮丧和忧郁的是，长长的凳腿上留有一些印记，是下一任多林考特伯爵用脚后跟踢出来的。塞德里克常常在聊天的同时，用脚后跟踢着凳腿，似乎也喜欢踢他们坐着的凳腿，看上去贵族血统和高贵世系好像并不禁止伯爵们喜欢踢他们坐着的凳腿。看着这些印记，霍布斯先生拿出了金表，打开盒子，盯着刻文：“送给霍布斯先生，老朋友方特勒罗伊勋爵。当你看见它时，请记起我。”看了一阵子后，他把盒子关上，声音很响。然后他叹了一口气，站起来，走到门口——站在土豆箱和苹果桶之间——抬头望着大街。晚上，店铺打烊后，他点着了烟斗，慢慢地沿着人行道走啊走，直走到塞德里克曾住过的房子那儿。房子上有一个启事：“此房招租”他在房子旁边停下来，抬头看看，又摇摇头，重重地抽着烟斗。就这样过了一阵子，他又哀伤地走回来。

在他没想出任何新主意之前，这种情况延续了两三个礼拜，由于迟钝和笨拙，他往往要花很长时间，才能想出一个新主意。他一贯不喜欢新主意，而宁愿要旧的。尽管如此，两三个礼拜后，一个新的计划像黎明似的，慢悠悠地、不慌不忙地来到了他那黑暗的脑袋中。在过去的两三个礼拜中，情况没有好转，反而恶化了。他想去看看迪克，在他得出结论之前，他抽掉了好几管烟，他想去看看迪克，他知道迪克的一切。塞德里克曾对他说起过。他的主意是，也许去跟迪克聊一聊这事，会给他带来些许安慰。

于是，一天，当迪克正在起劲地干活——给一个顾客擦鞋，一个矮壮的男人在人行道上站定——他的脸盘很大，脑袋已经秃顶。他对着那擦鞋匠的牌子，看了两三分钟。只见牌子上写道：

行家迪克·蒂普顿

是不会被打败的。

霍布斯先生盯着那些字看了很久很久，以至于迪克开始对他产生了强烈的兴趣，当他给顾客的鞋子擦完最后一下时，他说：“想擦鞋吗，先生？”

那个矮壮的男人走上前去，把脚搁在歇息的地方。

“是的。”他说。

随后，迪克就开始干活了。那个矮壮的男人从迪克看到牌子，又从牌子看到迪克。

“你从哪儿得来这牌子的？”他问道。

“是从我的一个朋友那儿，”迪克说，“一个小家伙。他送了我一整套工具。他是你所见过的最最好的小家伙。他现在在英国。去当勋爵啦。”

“勋爵——勋爵——”霍布斯先生既笨拙又迟钝地问道，“是方特勒罗伊勋爵——将成为多林考特伯爵的那位吗？”

迪克差点没掉了手上的刷子。

“天哪！”他大叫道，“你怎么认识他的？”

“他一出生，”霍布斯先生擦了擦发热的额头，答道，“我就认识他了。我们曾是形影不离的朋友——我们曾经是那样的关系。”

说起这话委实使他感到苦恼。他把精致的金表从口袋里拿出来，把盒子打开，然后给迪克看盒子的内壁。

“‘当你看到它时，请记起我。’”他读着，“那是他临别时送给我的纪念品。‘我要你别忘了我。’——那都是他的话——哪怕他不曾给我礼物，虽然分别后，我连他的一根汗毛都没见过。”他摇着头，继续说，“其实我是一直记着他的。他是一个任何人都会记住的好伙伴。”

“他是我平生所见过的最优秀的小家伙。”迪克说，“至于说到胆量——我从未见过一个小家伙这么有胆量——我跟他也是朋友——那个小家伙和我，是可靠的朋友。我帮他从马车底下抢出皮球。他一直记着这事。他经常跟他母亲或保姆一起到我这儿来。一到，他就会冲着我喊：‘喂，迪克！’他是一个快乐的小家伙——当你运气背的时候，跟他聊聊，是很有好处的。”

“是这样的，”霍布斯先生说，“让他去当伯爵，真是有点儿可惜。他在杂货堆或干货堆中光彩夺目，他的确是光彩夺目！”他摇着头，比以前任何时候都更加后悔了。

事实证明，他们俩有太多的话要跟对方说，以至于要想一次说完都不可能。最后两人商定，次日晚上，迪克去杂货店访问并陪伴霍布斯先生。这计划使迪克高兴坏了，有生以来，他几乎一直是个街头流浪汉，但是他从来就不是坏小子。他内心里总渴望着一种更加受人尊敬的生活。由于他一直在为自己干活，他已经挣了足够的钱，所以他现在能够睡在屋子里了，而不是外面的大街上。他已经开始希望，某一天他能达到一个更加高的水平。所以，当他受到霍布斯先生的邀请时，他似乎觉得这是一个很好的机会，因为霍布斯先生是一个矮壮的、受人尊敬的人，在街头拐角处，他拥有一个杂货店，甚至还有一匹马、一辆马车呢。

“你知道什么关于伯爵和城堡的事吗？”霍布斯先生问道，“我想知道更多的详情。”

“在《一便士故事报》上，有一个关于他们的故事，”迪克说，“叫作《凤冠的罪恶——女伯爵梅复仇记》。这是一个一流的故事，我们这儿有些男孩子正看得津津有味呢。”

“你来的时候，把报纸带过来。”霍布斯先生说，“我会付给你钱的。凡是你能找到的，里面讲到伯爵的书刊，你都给我带来。如果没有关于伯爵的，关于侯爵或公爵的也行——尽管小家伙从未提到过侯爵或公爵。

“我们曾经用到过冠冕，但我从不曾碰巧见过任何这类东西。我猜想，在这儿，他们不保留这类东西。”

“假如有人用，那么蒂凡尼珠宝店那儿应该会有。”迪克说，“但是，我不知道；假如我看到过，我是知道的。”

霍布斯先生没有解释的是：即使他见过，他也不会知道。他只是沉重地摇着头。

“我猜想啊，那是因为现在几乎没有人需要冠冕了。”他说。这事就算是了了。

这是个开端，从此两人结成了坚固的友谊。当迪克到杂货店去时，霍布斯先生极其殷勤地招待他，为他搬一把椅子，斜靠在门上，旁边就是一桶苹果。一等这年轻的客人坐下，他就用手中的烟斗指了指苹果，说：“你自己拿吧。”

然后他就读登载着那个故事的报纸。读完后，他们俩开始讨论英国的贵族体制。霍布斯先生狠狠地抽了几口烟，一个劲儿地摇头。当他指出小家伙曾坐过的高凳，并说凳子腿上还留着印记时，他的头摇得更厉害了。

“那些印记是他给踢出来的。”他一字一顿地说，“就是他踢出来的。我常常一个小时一个小时地坐着，看着它们。世运真是三十年河东，三十年河西啊。你瞧，他曾经就坐在那儿，从盒子里拿饼干吃，从桶子里拿苹果吃，而现在他是一个勋爵了，住进了城堡里。那些可是勋爵踢出来的痕迹，有朝一日，还将是伯爵的痕迹呢。有时候，我心里想，唉，哪会有这事！”

从回忆中，从迪克的来访中，他似乎得到了很大的安慰。迪克回家之前，他们在后屋里一起吃了晚饭。他们吃了饼干、奶酪、沙丁鱼以及店里的其他一些罐装食品。霍布斯先生神情严肃地打开了两瓶姜汁酒，倒进两只杯子里，提议干杯。

“为他干杯！”霍布斯先生举起杯子，说，“但愿他教训教训——所有那些侯爵啦、公爵啦！”

从那晚以后，两人常常见面，霍布斯先生感到了更多的安慰，也不那么沮丧了。他们阅读《一便士故事报》和其他有趣的东西，知道了一些贵族们和绅士们的生活习惯。如果让那些被鄙视的下层人知道了这些习惯，他们会大吃一惊的。有一天，霍布斯先生还专程进城，他的目的很明确，就是要到书店去，给他们的书库增加一些资料。他走向一个工作人员，身子靠在柜台上，说：

“我想要，”他说，“一本关于伯爵的书。”

“什么？”工作人员喊道。

“一本书，”杂货店老板重复道，“关于伯爵的。”

“我恐怕，”那个工作人员看起来感到很奇怪的样子，说，“我们这儿没有您想要的书。”

“没有？”霍布斯先生焦躁地说，“哦，那么，侯爵的或公爵的也可以。”

“这种书我一本都不知道，”那个工作人员答道。

霍布斯先生感到很恼火。他低头看看地板，然后又抬起了头。

“连关于女伯爵的都没有吗？”他询问道。

“恐怕是没有。”那个工作人员笑着说。

“咳！”霍布斯先生喊道，“哪有这种事！”

他正要走出书店时，工作人员把他叫了回去，问他，如果一本书中故事里的主要人物都是贵族，他要不要。霍布斯先生说也行——如果他买不到整本关于伯爵的书的话。于是工作人员把一本叫作《伦敦塔》的书卖给了他，书的作者是哈里森·安斯沃思先生。霍布斯先生这才带着书回家。

等迪克来时，他们就一起阅读。这本书非常精彩、刺激，其时代背景设在一个英国著名的女王的统治时期，有人把女王叫作“血腥的玛丽”。当霍布斯先生读到女王玛丽的行为和习惯，如砍掉人的头颅，如对人严刑拷打，如把人活活烧死，他就变得非常激动。他把烟斗从嘴巴里抽出来，然后盯着迪克，最后他不得不用手帕擦掉眉宇间的汗水。

“哎哟，他可不安全！”他说，“他可不安全！如果女人们坐上宝座，谁能知道此时此刻他发生了什么事呢？他一点儿都不安全！让玛丽那样的女人疯狂行事，谁都不会安全！”

“呃，”尽管迪克自己看起来也相当着急，但是他说，“你瞧，书上的这一个不是现在掌权的那一个。我知道现在那个的名字，她叫维多利亚，而书上的这个名叫玛丽。”

“原来如此，”霍布斯先生还在擦额头上的汗水，他说，“原来如此。报纸上没有提到任何关于拉肢刑架、拇指夹或火刑柱的事，可是，让他在那边，跟那些古怪的人们在一起，我们似乎仍然不能说他是安全的。唉，他们告诉我，他们连七月四日的国庆节都不过！”

有好几天，他暗自感到不安，直到他收到了方特勒罗伊的信件。他读了好几遍，既读给自己听，也读给迪克听，他又读到了迪克同时收到的信件，这才心安。

不过，他们俩都在信件中发现了极大的快乐。他们读了一遍又一遍，谈论了一次又一次，他们喜欢信上的每一个词。他们花了好几天时间写回信，几乎跟读收到的信一样，他们一遍遍地阅读自己写的回信。

对于迪克来说，写信是件非常费力的事。他所受过的读、写教育时间全部加起来只有几个月，那是他跟他哥哥住在一起的时候，去夜校里学的；不过，他是一个很敏锐的小伙子，他最充分地利用了那段短暂的教育。从那以后，他就能阅读报纸了，并且能用粉笔头在人行道上或墙壁上或篱笆上练习写字。他把自己生平的所有情况，都告诉了霍布斯先生。当他还很小很小的时候，母亲去世了，他哥哥对他非常好。他们的父亲死得更早。他哥哥名叫本，曾经尽其所能照顾迪克，直到迪克长大一些了，足以去卖报纸，给人跑腿。

“那时候，”迪克有点儿厌恶地高声说，“如果他没有去跟一个女孩结婚就好了！他像着了魔似的，完全失去了理性！跟她结了婚，然后在两间小房子里安了家。她人高马大，一个十足的母老虎。她发起怒来，就把东西摔成碎片——她老是发怒。孩子跟她一个德行——整日整夜地哭叫！如果我不是非得看护这孩子就好了！孩子一哭，她就把东西扔过来打我。有一回，她把一只盘子扔过来，打中了孩子——打破了下巴。医生说，那伤疤到死都消不了。她可真是一个好母亲！一个疯子！但是我们没有时间——本和我都没有时间花在孩子身上。她疯狂地虐待本，因为本没能快速地挣钱。最后，他跟另一个男子远走西部，去开创了一个养牛场。他走之前那个礼拜的一个晚上，我卖完报纸回家，只见房门锁着，里面空荡荡的。女房东告诉我说，明娜走了——她还给我看了一双干干净净的鞋后跟。有人说，她涉过河水，去给一位太太当奶娘，那位太太也刚生了个孩子。从那以后，再也没有听到她的一点儿消息——也没有本的消息。如果我是我哥，我不会像他那样烦恼。可是，他一开始就把她当成女神。告诉你吧，他是被她给迷住了。当她打扮好了，不疯不怒时，她也真是美得像花一样。她的眼睛又黑又大，一头黑发直垂到膝盖。她把头发编成辫子，有你的胳膊那么粗，然后一圈圈地盘在头上。我跟你说，她的眼睛会咬人！人们常常说，她有意大利的血统——说她的母亲或父亲来自意大利，这使她看上去有点儿古里古怪。”迪克经常跟霍布斯先生讲他哥哥和嫂子的事，本自从离家出走到西部去之后，曾给迪克来过一两次信。本的运气不好，从一个地方流荡到另一个地方，不过，最后，他总算在加利福尼亚建成了一个农场。他在那儿工作之时，正是迪克跟霍布斯先生结识的时候。

“那个女的，”一天，迪克说，“夺走了他所有的勇气。有时候，我忍不住为他感到难过。”

他们俩一起坐在商店门口，霍布斯先生往烟斗里装着烟叶。

“他不应该结婚。”当他站起身来去拿火柴的时候，严肃地说，“女人——我从来看不出女人有什么好处。”

当他从盒子里取出火柴，他停住了话头，低头看着柜台。

“哇！”他说，“看这儿，这不是一封信嘛！我以前没见过这信。肯定是在我不注意的时候，邮递员放在这儿的，或者是因为报纸滑过去，把它给盖住了。”

霍布斯先生拿起信，仔细地看了看。

“是他寄来的！”他惊喜地叫道，“真是他寄来的！”

他全然忘了他的烟斗，激动万分地坐回到椅子上，从口袋里拿出了小折刀，划开信封。

“我想知道，这回有什么消息。”他说。

然后他打开信，读了起来：

多林考特城堡

亲爱的霍布斯先生：

这封信我写得匆匆忙忙，因为我有件奇怪的事要告诉你，我知道当我告诉你的时候你会大吃一惊的，我亲爱的朋友。这完全是一个误会，我不是勋爵，我将不必再当伯爵了。有一个女人嫁给了我的伯伯贝维斯，我伯父已经去世了，她有个小男孩，这个小男孩才是真正的方特勒罗伊勋爵。因为在英国事情就是这样的：如果其他所有的继承人都死了，我的意思是说，如果父亲和祖父都死了的话，就由伯爵的长子的儿子继承爵位。我祖父没有死，但我伯父贝维斯死了，所以他的儿子成了方特勒罗伊勋爵，而我不是，因为我爸爸是老小。我现在又叫塞德里克·埃罗尔了，跟我在纽约时是一样的，所有的东西都将属于那个男孩子。我想，首先我得把小马驹和马车给他但是我祖父说这没必要。我祖父非常难过，因为我想他，是不喜欢那个女人的，不过也可能因为他认为最最亲爱的和我都很难过，因为我不会成为伯爵了。比起先前，我觉得我会当伯爵的时候，我现在更喜欢当伯爵了，因为这里的城堡真美，我喜欢这里的每一个人。当你富有的时候，你能够做许许多多事，现在我一点儿也不富有，因为我爸爸是老小，他就不富有。我打算去学做工作，这样我才能照顾最最亲爱的。我已向威尔金斯请教过赶马的事，也许我会成为一个马夫或一个车夫。那个女人带着她的小男孩来到了城堡。我祖父和哈维沙姆先生跟她谈话，我觉得她发怒了，说话声音很高，我祖父也发怒了，以前我从来没有看见他发怒过。我希望他们不要为此而发了疯。我觉得我应该马上将情况告诉你和迪克，因为你们会感兴趣的。现在就不多说了。

你的老朋友塞德里克·埃罗尔

（不是方特勒罗伊勋爵）

霍布斯先生倒在了椅子上，信掉在了他的膝盖上，小折刀和信封都滑到了地板上。

“唉！”他叫道，“居然是这么回事！”

他惊讶万分，以至于连那句感叹的口头禅都改变了。他通常习惯于说：“哪有这种事。”但这次他说：“居然是这么回事。”也许他真的倒霉了。谁知道呢？

“嘿，”迪克说，“整个都失败了，是吗？”

“失败了！”霍布斯先生说，“我的看法是，这整个都是英国贵族们预先布置的骗局，他们剥夺了他的权利，因为他是一个美国人。自从独立战争以来，他们一直厌恨我们，现在在他身上发泄了厌恨。我告诉过你，他在那边不安全，你瞧，现在发生了什么！整个英国政府勾结起来，剥夺了他的合法财产。”

霍布斯先生被大大激怒了。起初他不同意小家伙的环境的变化，可是后来，他妥协了，在接到塞德里克的信后，他从小家伙的荣华富贵中，更是感觉到了些许秘密的骄傲。他可能对伯爵没什么好感，但他知道，甚至在美国，钱也被人们认为是一种讨人喜欢的东西。如果小家伙所有的荣华富贵都随爵号而消逝，是让人感到难以接受的。

“他们正在竭力剥夺他的权益！”他说，“那就是他们正在干的勾当。那些有钱人应该照顾他。”

他又让迪克待了个把小时，两人仔细谈论了小家伙的问题。当年轻的迪克离去时，霍布斯先生送他到大街的拐角处。在他回杂货店的路上，他站在那所空房子的街道对面，盯着那个“房屋出租”的启事看了一阵子。他一个劲儿地抽烟，因为心里烦乱极了。