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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sara Crewe + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: March 8, 2006 [EBook #137] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SARA CREWE *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + SARA CREWE <br /> OR <br /> WHAT HAPPENED AT MISS MINCHIN'S + </h1> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + In the first place, Miss Minchin lived in London. Her home was a large, + dull, tall one, in a large, dull square, where all the houses were alike, + and all the sparrows were alike, and where all the door-knockers made the + same heavy sound, and on still days—and nearly all the days were + still—seemed to resound through the entire row in which the knock + was knocked. On Miss Minchin's door there was a brass plate. On the brass + plate there was inscribed in black letters, + </p> + <h3> + MISS MINCHIN'S<br /> SELECT SEMINARY FOR YOUNG LADIES + </h3> + <p> + Little Sara Crewe never went in or out of the house without reading that + door-plate and reflecting upon it. By the time she was twelve, she had + decided that all her trouble arose because, in the first place, she was + not “Select,” and in the second she was not a “Young Lady.” When she was + eight years old, she had been brought to Miss Minchin as a pupil, and left + with her. Her papa had brought her all the way from India. Her mamma had + died when she was a baby, and her papa had kept her with him as long as he + could. And then, finding the hot climate was making her very delicate, he + had brought her to England and left her with Miss Minchin, to be part of + the Select Seminary for Young Ladies. Sara, who had always been a sharp + little child, who remembered things, recollected hearing him say that he + had not a relative in the world whom he knew of, and so he was obliged to + place her at a boarding-school, and he had heard Miss Minchin's + establishment spoken of very highly. The same day, he took Sara out and + bought her a great many beautiful clothes—clothes so grand and rich + that only a very young and inexperienced man would have bought them for a + mite of a child who was to be brought up in a boarding-school. But the + fact was that he was a rash, innocent young man, and very sad at the + thought of parting with his little girl, who was all he had left to remind + him of her beautiful mother, whom he had dearly loved. And he wished her + to have everything the most fortunate little girl could have; and so, when + the polite saleswomen in the shops said, “Here is our very latest thing in + hats, the plumes are exactly the same as those we sold to Lady Diana + Sinclair yesterday,” he immediately bought what was offered to him, and + paid whatever was asked. The consequence was that Sara had a most + extraordinary wardrobe. Her dresses were silk and velvet and India + cashmere, her hats and bonnets were covered with bows and plumes, her + small undergarments were adorned with real lace, and she returned in the + cab to Miss Minchin's with a doll almost as large as herself, dressed + quite as grandly as herself, too. + </p> + <p> + Then her papa gave Miss Minchin some money and went away, and for several + days Sara would neither touch the doll, nor her breakfast, nor her dinner, + nor her tea, and would do nothing but crouch in a small corner by the + window and cry. She cried so much, indeed, that she made herself ill. She + was a queer little child, with old-fashioned ways and strong feelings, and + she had adored her papa, and could not be made to think that India and an + interesting bungalow were not better for her than London and Miss + Minchin's Select Seminary. The instant she had entered the house, she had + begun promptly to hate Miss Minchin, and to think little of Miss Amelia + Minchin, who was smooth and dumpy, and lisped, and was evidently afraid of + her older sister. Miss Minchin was tall, and had large, cold, fishy eyes, + and large, cold hands, which seemed fishy, too, because they were damp and + made chills run down Sara's back when they touched her, as Miss Minchin + pushed her hair off her forehead and said: + </p> + <p> + “A most beautiful and promising little girl, Captain Crewe. She will be a + favorite pupil; quite a favorite pupil, I see.” + </p> + <p> + For the first year she was a favorite pupil; at least she was indulged a + great deal more than was good for her. And when the Select Seminary went + walking, two by two, she was always decked out in her grandest clothes, + and led by the hand at the head of the genteel procession, by Miss Minchin + herself. And when the parents of any of the pupils came, she was always + dressed and called into the parlor with her doll; and she used to hear + Miss Minchin say that her father was a distinguished Indian officer, and + she would be heiress to a great fortune. That her father had inherited a + great deal of money, Sara had heard before; and also that some day it + would be hers, and that he would not remain long in the army, but would + come to live in London. And every time a letter came, she hoped it would + say he was coming, and they were to live together again. + </p> + <p> + But about the middle of the third year a letter came bringing very + different news. Because he was not a business man himself, her papa had + given his affairs into the hands of a friend he trusted. The friend had + deceived and robbed him. All the money was gone, no one knew exactly + where, and the shock was so great to the poor, rash young officer, that, + being attacked by jungle fever shortly afterward, he had no strength to + rally, and so died, leaving Sara, with no one to take care of her. + </p> + <p> + Miss Minchin's cold and fishy eyes had never looked so cold and fishy as + they did when Sara went into the parlor, on being sent for, a few days + after the letter was received. + </p> + <p> + No one had said anything to the child about mourning, so, in her + old-fashioned way, she had decided to find a black dress for herself, and + had picked out a black velvet she had outgrown, and came into the room in + it, looking the queerest little figure in the world, and a sad little + figure too. The dress was too short and too tight, her face was white, her + eyes had dark rings around them, and her doll, wrapped in a piece of old + black crape, was held under her arm. She was not a pretty child. She was + thin, and had a weird, interesting little face, short black hair, and very + large, green-gray eyes fringed all around with heavy black lashes. + </p> + <p> + “I am the ugliest child in the school,” she had said once, after staring + at herself in the glass for some minutes. + </p> + <p> + But there had been a clever, good-natured little French teacher who had + said to the music-master: + </p> + <p> + “Zat leetle Crewe. Vat a child! A so ogly beauty! Ze so large eyes! ze so + little spirituelle face. Waid till she grow up. You shall see!” + </p> + <p> + This morning, however, in the tight, small black frock, she looked thinner + and odder than ever, and her eyes were fixed on Miss Minchin with a queer + steadiness as she slowly advanced into the parlor, clutching her doll. + </p> + <p> + “Put your doll down!” said Miss Minchin. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the child, “I won't put her down; I want her with me. She is + all I have. She has stayed with me all the time since my papa died.” + </p> + <p> + She had never been an obedient child. She had had her own way ever since + she was born, and there was about her an air of silent determination under + which Miss Minchin had always felt secretly uncomfortable. And that lady + felt even now that perhaps it would be as well not to insist on her point. + So she looked at her as severely as possible. + </p> + <p> + “You will have no time for dolls in future,” she said; “you will have to + work and improve yourself, and make yourself useful.” + </p> + <p> + Sara kept the big odd eyes fixed on her teacher and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Everything will be very different now,” Miss Minchin went on. “I sent for + you to talk to you and make you understand. Your father is dead. You have + no friends. You have no money. You have no home and no one to take care of + you.” + </p> + <p> + The little pale olive face twitched nervously, but the green-gray eyes did + not move from Miss Minchin's, and still Sara said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “What are you staring at?” demanded Miss Minchin sharply. “Are you so + stupid you don't understand what I mean? I tell you that you are quite + alone in the world, and have no one to do anything for you, unless I + choose to keep you here.” + </p> + <p> + The truth was, Miss Minchin was in her worst mood. To be suddenly deprived + of a large sum of money yearly and a show pupil, and to find herself with + a little beggar on her hands, was more than she could bear with any degree + of calmness. + </p> + <p> + “Now listen to me,” she went on, “and remember what I say. If you work + hard and prepare to make yourself useful in a few years, I shall let you + stay here. You are only a child, but you are a sharp child, and you pick + up things almost without being taught. You speak French very well, and in + a year or so you can begin to help with the younger pupils. By the time + you are fifteen you ought to be able to do that much at least.” + </p> + <p> + “I can speak French better than you, now,” said Sara; “I always spoke it + with my papa in India.” Which was not at all polite, but was painfully + true; because Miss Minchin could not speak French at all, and, indeed, was + not in the least a clever person. But she was a hard, grasping business + woman; and, after the first shock of disappointment, had seen that at very + little expense to herself she might prepare this clever, determined child + to be very useful to her and save her the necessity of paying large + salaries to teachers of languages. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be impudent, or you will be punished,” she said. “You will have to + improve your manners if you expect to earn your bread. You are not a + parlor boarder now. Remember that if you don't please me, and I send you + away, you have no home but the street. You can go now.” + </p> + <p> + Sara turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” commanded Miss Minchin, “don't you intend to thank me?” + </p> + <p> + Sara turned toward her. The nervous twitch was to be seen again in her + face, and she seemed to be trying to control it. + </p> + <p> + “What for?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “For my kindness to you,” replied Miss Minchin. “For my kindness in giving + you a home.” + </p> + <p> + Sara went two or three steps nearer to her. Her thin little chest was + heaving up and down, and she spoke in a strange, unchildish voice. + </p> + <p> + “You are not kind,” she said. “You are not kind.” And she turned again and + went out of the room, leaving Miss Minchin staring after her strange, + small figure in stony anger. + </p> + <p> + The child walked up the staircase, holding tightly to her doll; she meant + to go to her bedroom, but at the door she was met by Miss Amelia. + </p> + <p> + “You are not to go in there,” she said. “That is not your room now.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is my room?” asked Sara. + </p> + <p> + “You are to sleep in the attic next to the cook.” + </p> + <p> + Sara walked on. She mounted two flights more, and reached the door of the + attic room, opened it and went in, shutting it behind her. She stood + against it and looked about her. The room was slanting-roofed and + whitewashed; there was a rusty grate, an iron bedstead, and some odd + articles of furniture, sent up from better rooms below, where they had + been used until they were considered to be worn out. Under the skylight in + the roof, which showed nothing but an oblong piece of dull gray sky, there + was a battered old red footstool. + </p> + <p> + Sara went to it and sat down. She was a queer child, as I have said + before, and quite unlike other children. She seldom cried. She did not cry + now. She laid her doll, Emily, across her knees, and put her face down + upon her, and her arms around her, and sat there, her little black head + resting on the black crape, not saying one word, not making one sound. + </p> + <p> + From that day her life changed entirely. Sometimes she used to feel as if + it must be another life altogether, the life of some other child. She was + a little drudge and outcast; she was given her lessons at odd times and + expected to learn without being taught; she was sent on errands by Miss + Minchin, Miss Amelia and the cook. Nobody took any notice of her except + when they ordered her about. She was often kept busy all day and then sent + into the deserted school-room with a pile of books to learn her lessons or + practise at night. She had never been intimate with the other pupils, and + soon she became so shabby that, taking her queer clothes together with her + queer little ways, they began to look upon her as a being of another world + than their own. The fact was that, as a rule, Miss Minchin's pupils were + rather dull, matter-of-fact young people, accustomed to being rich and + comfortable; and Sara, with her elfish cleverness, her desolate life, and + her odd habit of fixing her eyes upon them and staring them out of + countenance, was too much for them. + </p> + <p> + “She always looks as if she was finding you out,” said one girl, who was + sly and given to making mischief. “I am,” said Sara promptly, when she + heard of it. “That's what I look at them for. I like to know about people. + I think them over afterward.” + </p> + <p> + She never made any mischief herself or interfered with any one. She talked + very little, did as she was told, and thought a great deal. Nobody knew, + and in fact nobody cared, whether she was unhappy or happy, unless, + perhaps, it was Emily, who lived in the attic and slept on the iron + bedstead at night. Sara thought Emily understood her feelings, though she + was only wax and had a habit of staring herself. Sara used to talk to her + at night. + </p> + <p> + “You are the only friend I have in the world,” she would say to her. “Why + don't you say something? Why don't you speak? Sometimes I am sure you + could, if you would try. It ought to make you try, to know you are the + only thing I have. If I were you, I should try. Why don't you try?” + </p> + <p> + It really was a very strange feeling she had about Emily. It arose from + her being so desolate. She did not like to own to herself that her only + friend, her only companion, could feel and hear nothing. She wanted to + believe, or to pretend to believe, that Emily understood and sympathized + with her, that she heard her even though she did not speak in answer. She + used to put her in a chair sometimes and sit opposite to her on the old + red footstool, and stare at her and think and pretend about her until her + own eyes would grow large with something which was almost like fear, + particularly at night, when the garret was so still, when the only sound + that was to be heard was the occasional squeak and scurry of rats in the + wainscot. There were rat-holes in the garret, and Sara detested rats, and + was always glad Emily was with her when she heard their hateful squeak and + rush and scratching. One of her “pretends” was that Emily was a kind of + good witch and could protect her. Poor little Sara! everything was + “pretend” with her. She had a strong imagination; there was almost more + imagination than there was Sara, and her whole forlorn, uncared-for + child-life was made up of imaginings. She imagined and pretended things + until she almost believed them, and she would scarcely have been surprised + at any remarkable thing that could have happened. So she insisted to + herself that Emily understood all about her troubles and was really her + friend. + </p> + <p> + “As to answering,” she used to say, “I don't answer very often. I never + answer when I can help it. When people are insulting you, there is nothing + so good for them as not to say a word—just to look at them and + think. Miss Minchin turns pale with rage when I do it. Miss Amelia looks + frightened, so do the girls. They know you are stronger than they are, + because you are strong enough to hold in your rage and they are not, and + they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said afterward. There's + nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in—that's + stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies. I scarcely ever + do. Perhaps Emily is more like me than I am like myself. Perhaps she would + rather not answer her friends, even. She keeps it all in her heart.” + </p> + <p> + But though she tried to satisfy herself with these arguments, Sara did not + find it easy. When, after a long, hard day, in which she had been sent + here and there, sometimes on long errands, through wind and cold and rain; + and, when she came in wet and hungry, had been sent out again because + nobody chose to remember that she was only a child, and that her thin + little legs might be tired, and her small body, clad in its forlorn, too + small finery, all too short and too tight, might be chilled; when she had + been given only harsh words and cold, slighting looks for thanks, when the + cook had been vulgar and insolent; when Miss Minchin had been in her worst + moods, and when she had seen the girls sneering at her among themselves + and making fun of her poor, outgrown clothes—then Sara did not find + Emily quite all that her sore, proud, desolate little heart needed as the + doll sat in her little old chair and stared. + </p> + <p> + One of these nights, when she came up to the garret cold, hungry, tired, + and with a tempest raging in her small breast, Emily's stare seemed so + vacant, her sawdust legs and arms so limp and inexpressive, that Sara lost + all control over herself. + </p> + <p> + “I shall die presently!” she said at first. + </p> + <p> + Emily stared. + </p> + <p> + “I can't bear this!” said the poor child, trembling. “I know I shall die. + I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm starving to death. I've walked a thousand miles + to-day, and they have done nothing but scold me from morning until night. + And because I could not find that last thing they sent me for, they would + not give me any supper. Some men laughed at me because my old shoes made + me slip down in the mud. I'm covered with mud now. And they laughed! Do + you hear!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent wax face, and suddenly + a sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand + and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “You are nothing but a doll!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but a doll-doll-doll! You care for nothing. You are stuffed with + sawdust. You never had a heart. Nothing could ever make you feel. You are + a doll!” + </p> + <p> + Emily lay upon the floor, with her legs ignominiously doubled up over her + head, and a new flat place on the end of her nose; but she was still calm, + even dignified. + </p> + <p> + Sara hid her face on her arms and sobbed. Some rats in the wall began to + fight and bite each other, and squeak and scramble. But, as I have already + intimated, Sara was not in the habit of crying. After a while she stopped, + and when she stopped she looked at Emily, who seemed to be gazing at her + around the side of one ankle, and actually with a kind of glassy-eyed + sympathy. Sara bent and picked her up. Remorse overtook her. + </p> + <p> + “You can't help being a doll,” she said, with a resigned sigh, “any more + than those girls downstairs can help not having any sense. We are not all + alike. Perhaps you do your sawdust best.” + </p> + <p> + None of Miss Minchin's young ladies were very remarkable for being + brilliant; they were select, but some of them were very dull, and some of + them were fond of applying themselves to their lessons. Sara, who snatched + her lessons at all sorts of untimely hours from tattered and discarded + books, and who had a hungry craving for everything readable, was often + severe upon them in her small mind. They had books they never read; she + had no books at all. If she had always had something to read, she would + not have been so lonely. She liked romances and history and poetry; she + would read anything. There was a sentimental housemaid in the + establishment who bought the weekly penny papers, and subscribed to a + circulating library, from which she got greasy volumes containing stories + of marquises and dukes who invariably fell in love with orange-girls and + gypsies and servant-maids, and made them the proud brides of coronets; and + Sara often did parts of this maid's work so that she might earn the + privilege of reading these romantic histories. There was also a fat, dull + pupil, whose name was Ermengarde St. John, who was one of her resources. + Ermengarde had an intellectual father, who, in his despairing desire to + encourage his daughter, constantly sent her valuable and interesting + books, which were a continual source of grief to her. Sara had once + actually found her crying over a big package of them. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” she asked her, perhaps rather disdainfully. + </p> + <p> + And it is just possible she would not have spoken to her, if she had not + seen the books. The sight of books always gave Sara a hungry feeling, and + she could not help drawing near to them if only to read their titles. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “My papa has sent me some more books,” answered Ermengarde woefully, “and + he expects me to read them.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you like reading?” said Sara. + </p> + <p> + “I hate it!” replied Miss Ermengarde St. John. “And he will ask me + questions when he sees me: he will want to know how much I remember; how + would you like to have to read all those?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like it better than anything else in the world,” said Sara. + </p> + <p> + Ermengarde wiped her eyes to look at such a prodigy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, gracious!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Sara returned the look with interest. A sudden plan formed itself in her + sharp mind. + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” she said. “If you'll lend me those books, I'll read them and + tell you everything that's in them afterward, and I'll tell it to you so + that you will remember it. I know I can. The A B C children always + remember what I tell them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, goodness!” said Ermengarde. “Do you think you could?” + </p> + <p> + “I know I could,” answered Sara. “I like to read, and I always remember. + I'll take care of the books, too; they will look just as new as they do + now, when I give them back to you.” + </p> + <p> + Ermengarde put her handkerchief in her pocket. + </p> + <p> + “If you'll do that,” she said, “and if you'll make me remember, I'll give + you—I'll give you some money.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want your money,” said Sara. “I want your books—I want + them.” And her eyes grew big and queer, and her chest heaved once. + </p> + <p> + “Take them, then,” said Ermengarde; “I wish I wanted them, but I am not + clever, and my father is, and he thinks I ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + Sara picked up the books and marched off with them. But when she was at + the door, she stopped and turned around. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to tell your father?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Ermengarde, “he needn't know; he'll think I've read them.” + </p> + <p> + Sara looked down at the books; her heart really began to beat fast. + </p> + <p> + “I won't do it,” she said rather slowly, “if you are going to tell him + lies about it—I don't like lies. Why can't you tell him I read them + and then told you about them?” + </p> + <p> + “But he wants me to read them,” said Ermengarde. + </p> + <p> + “He wants you to know what is in them,” said Sara; “and if I can tell it + to you in an easy way and make you remember, I should think he would like + that.” + </p> + <p> + “He would like it better if I read them myself,” replied Ermengarde. + </p> + <p> + “He will like it, I dare say, if you learn anything in any way,” said + Sara. “I should, if I were your father.” + </p> + <p> + And though this was not a flattering way of stating the case, Ermengarde + was obliged to admit it was true, and, after a little more argument, gave + in. And so she used afterward always to hand over her books to Sara, and + Sara would carry them to her garret and devour them; and after she had + read each volume, she would return it and tell Ermengarde about it in a + way of her own. She had a gift for making things interesting. Her + imagination helped her to make everything rather like a story, and she + managed this matter so well that Miss St. John gained more information + from her books than she would have gained if she had read them three times + over by her poor stupid little self. When Sara sat down by her and began + to tell some story of travel or history, she made the travellers and + historical people seem real; and Ermengarde used to sit and regard her + dramatic gesticulations, her thin little flushed cheeks, and her shining, + odd eyes with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “It sounds nicer than it seems in the book,” she would say. “I never cared + about Mary, Queen of Scots, before, and I always hated the French + Revolution, but you make it seem like a story.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a story,” Sara would answer. “They are all stories. Everything is a + story—everything in this world. You are a story—I am a story—Miss + Minchin is a story. You can make a story out of anything.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” said Ermengarde. + </p> + <p> + Sara stared at her a minute reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said at last. “I suppose you couldn't. You are a little like + Emily.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Emily?” + </p> + <p> + Sara recollected herself. She knew she was sometimes rather impolite in + the candor of her remarks, and she did not want to be impolite to a girl + who was not unkind—only stupid. Notwithstanding all her sharp little + ways she had the sense to wish to be just to everybody. In the hours she + spent alone, she used to argue out a great many curious questions with + herself. One thing she had decided upon was, that a person who was clever + ought to be clever enough not to be unjust or deliberately unkind to any + one. Miss Minchin was unjust and cruel, Miss Amelia was unkind and + spiteful, the cook was malicious and hasty-tempered—they all were + stupid, and made her despise them, and she desired to be as unlike them as + possible. So she would be as polite as she could to people who in the + least deserved politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Emily is—a person—I know,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like her?” asked Ermengarde. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” said Sara. + </p> + <p> + Ermengarde examined her queer little face and figure again. She did look + odd. She had on, that day, a faded blue plush skirt, which barely covered + her knees, a brown Cloth sacque, and a pair of olive-green stockings which + Miss Minchin had made her piece out with black ones, so that they would be + long enough to be kept on. And yet Ermengarde was beginning slowly to + admire her. Such a forlorn, thin, neglected little thing as that, who + could read and read and remember and tell you things so that they did not + tire you all out! A child who could speak French, and who had learned + German, no one knew how! One could not help staring at her and feeling + interested, particularly one to whom the simplest lesson was a trouble and + a woe. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like me?” said Ermengarde, finally, at the end of her scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + Sara hesitated one second, then she answered: + </p> + <p> + “I like you because you are not ill-natured—I like you for letting + me read your books—I like you because you don't make spiteful fun of + me for what I can't help. It's not your fault that—” + </p> + <p> + She pulled herself up quickly. She had been going to say, “that you are + stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “That what?” asked Ermengarde. + </p> + <p> + “That you can't learn things quickly. If you can't, you can't. If I can, + why, I can—that's all.” She paused a minute, looking at the plump + face before her, and then, rather slowly, one of her wise, old-fashioned + thoughts came to her. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she said, “to be able to learn things quickly isn't everything. + To be kind is worth a good deal to other people. If Miss Minchin knew + everything on earth, which she doesn't, and if she was like what she is + now, she'd still be a detestable thing, and everybody would hate her. Lots + of clever people have done harm and been wicked. Look at Robespierre—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped again and examined her companion's countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember about him?” she demanded. “I believe you've forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't remember all of it,” admitted Ermengarde. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Sara, with courage and determination, “I'll tell it to you + over again.” + </p> + <p> + And she plunged once more into the gory records of the French Revolution, + and told such stories of it, and made such vivid pictures of its horrors, + that Miss St. John was afraid to go to bed afterward, and hid her head + under the blankets when she did go, and shivered until she fell asleep. + But afterward she preserved lively recollections of the character of + Robespierre, and did not even forget Marie Antoinette and the Princess de + Lamballe. + </p> + <p> + “You know they put her head on a pike and danced around it,” Sara had + said; “and she had beautiful blonde hair; and when I think of her, I never + see her head on her body, but always on a pike, with those furious people + dancing and howling.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, it was true; to this imaginative child everything was a story; and + the more books she read, the more imaginative she became. One of her chief + entertainments was to sit in her garret, or walk about it, and “suppose” + things. On a cold night, when she had not had enough to eat, she would + draw the red footstool up before the empty grate, and say in the most + intense voice: + </p> + <p> + “Suppose there was a grate, wide steel grate here, and a great glowing + fire—a glowing fire—with beds of red-hot coal and lots of + little dancing, flickering flames. Suppose there was a soft, deep rug, and + this was a comfortable chair, all cushions and crimson velvet; and suppose + I had a crimson velvet frock on, and a deep lace collar, like a child in a + picture; and suppose all the rest of the room was furnished in lovely + colors, and there were book-shelves full of books, which changed by magic + as soon as you had read them; and suppose there was a little table here, + with a snow-white cover on it, and little silver dishes, and in one there + was hot, hot soup, and in another a roast chicken, and in another some + raspberry-jam tarts with crisscross on them, and in another some grapes; + and suppose Emily could speak, and we could sit and eat our supper, and + then talk and read; and then suppose there was a soft, warm bed in the + corner, and when we were tired we could go to sleep, and sleep as long as + we liked.” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, after she had supposed things like these for half an hour, she + would feel almost warm, and would creep into bed with Emily and fall + asleep with a smile on her face. + </p> + <p> + “What large, downy pillows!” she would whisper. “What white sheets and + fleecy blankets!” And she almost forgot that her real pillows had scarcely + any feathers in them at all, and smelled musty, and that her blankets and + coverlid were thin and full of holes. + </p> + <p> + At another time she would “suppose” she was a princess, and then she would + go about the house with an expression on her face which was a source of + great secret annoyance to Miss Minchin, because it seemed as if the child + scarcely heard the spiteful, insulting things said to her, or, if she + heard them, did not care for them at all. Sometimes, while she was in the + midst of some harsh and cruel speech, Miss Minchin would find the odd, + unchildish eyes fixed upon her with something like a proud smile in them. + At such times she did not know that Sara was saying to herself: + </p> + <p> + “You don't know that you are saying these things to a princess, and that + if I chose I could wave my hand and order you to execution. I only spare + you because I am a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, old, vulgar + thing, and don't know any better.” + </p> + <p> + This used to please and amuse her more than anything else; and queer and + fanciful as it was, she found comfort in it, and it was not a bad thing + for her. It really kept her from being made rude and malicious by the + rudeness and malice of those about her. + </p> + <p> + “A princess must be polite,” she said to herself. And so when the + servants, who took their tone from their mistress, were insolent and + ordered her about, she would hold her head erect, and reply to them + sometimes in a way which made them stare at her, it was so quaintly civil. + </p> + <p> + “I am a princess in rags and tatters,” she would think, “but I am a + princess, inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in + cloth-of-gold; it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time + when no one knows it. There was Marie Antoinette; when she was in prison, + and her throne was gone, and she had only a black gown on, and her hair + was white, and they insulted her and called her the Widow Capet,—she + was a great deal more like a queen then than when she was so gay and had + everything grand. I like her best then. Those howling mobs of people did + not frighten her. She was stronger than they were even when they cut her + head off.” + </p> + <p> + Once when such thoughts were passing through her mind the look in her eyes + so enraged Miss Minchin that she flew at Sara and boxed her ears. + </p> + <p> + Sara awakened from her dream, started a little, and then broke into a + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What are you laughing at, you bold, impudent child!” exclaimed Miss + Minchin. + </p> + <p> + It took Sara a few seconds to remember she was a princess. Her cheeks were + red and smarting from the blows she had received. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Beg my pardon immediately,” said Miss Minchin. + </p> + <p> + “I will beg your pardon for laughing, if it was rude,” said Sara; “but I + won't beg your pardon for thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “What were you thinking?” demanded Miss Minchin. “How dare you think? What + were you thinking?” + </p> + <p> + This occurred in the school-room, and all the girls looked up from their + books to listen. It always interested them when Miss Minchin flew at Sara, + because Sara always said something queer, and never seemed in the least + frightened. She was not in the least frightened now, though her boxed ears + were scarlet, and her eyes were as bright as stars. + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking,” she answered gravely and quite politely, “that you did + not know what you were doing.” + </p> + <p> + “That I did not know what I was doing!” Miss Minchin fairly gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sara, “and I was thinking what would happen, if I were a + princess and you boxed my ears—what I should do to you. And I was + thinking that if I were one, you would never dare to do it, whatever I + said or did. And I was thinking how surprised and frightened you would be + if you suddenly found out—” + </p> + <p> + She had the imagined picture so clearly before her eyes, that she spoke in + a manner which had an effect even on Miss Minchin. It almost seemed for + the moment to her narrow, unimaginative mind that there must be some real + power behind this candid daring. + </p> + <p> + “What!” she exclaimed, “found out what?” + </p> + <p> + “That I really was a princess,” said Sara, “and could do anything—anything + I liked.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to your room,” cried Miss Minchin breathlessly, “this instant. Leave + the school-room. Attend to your lessons, young ladies.” + </p> + <p> + Sara made a little bow. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me for laughing, if it was impolite,” she said, and walked out of + the room, leaving Miss Minchin in a rage and the girls whispering over + their books. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't be at all surprised if she did turn out to be something,” + said one of them. “Suppose she should!” + </p> + <p> + That very afternoon Sara had an opportunity of proving to herself whether + she was really a princess or not. It was a dreadful afternoon. For several + days it had rained continuously, the streets were chilly and sloppy; there + was mud everywhere—sticky London mud—and over everything a + pall of fog and drizzle. Of course there were several long and tiresome + errands to be done,—there always were on days like this,—and + Sara was sent out again and again, until her shabby clothes were damp + through. The absurd old feathers on her forlorn hat were more draggled and + absurd than ever, and her down-trodden shoes were so wet they could not + hold any more water. Added to this, she had been deprived of her dinner, + because Miss Minchin wished to punish her. She was very hungry. She was so + cold and hungry and tired that her little face had a pinched look, and now + and then some kind-hearted person passing her in the crowded street + glanced at her with sympathy. But she did not know that. She hurried on, + trying to comfort herself in that queer way of hers by pretending and + “supposing,”—but really this time it was harder than she had ever + found it, and once or twice she thought it almost made her more cold and + hungry instead of less so. But she persevered obstinately. “Suppose I had + dry clothes on,” she thought. “Suppose I had good shoes and a long, thick + coat and merino stockings and a whole umbrella. And suppose—suppose, + just when I was near a baker's where they sold hot buns, I should find + sixpence—which belonged to nobody. Suppose, if I did, I should go + into the shop and buy six of the hottest buns, and should eat them all + without stopping.” + </p> + <p> + Some very odd things happen in this world sometimes. It certainly was an + odd thing which happened to Sara. She had to cross the street just as she + was saying this to herself—the mud was dreadful—she almost had + to wade. She picked her way as carefully as she could, but she could not + save herself much, only, in picking her way she had to look down at her + feet and the mud, and in looking down—just as she reached the + pavement—she saw something shining in the gutter. A piece of silver—a + tiny piece trodden upon by many feet, but still with spirit enough to + shine a little. Not quite a sixpence, but the next thing to it—a + four-penny piece! In one second it was in her cold, little red and blue + hand. “Oh!” she gasped. “It is true!” + </p> + <p> + And then, if you will believe me, she looked straight before her at the + shop directly facing her. And it was a baker's, and a cheerful, stout, + motherly woman, with rosy cheeks, was just putting into the window a tray + of delicious hot buns,—large, plump, shiny buns, with currants in + them. + </p> + <p> + It almost made Sara feel faint for a few seconds—the shock and the + sight of the buns and the delightful odors of warm bread floating up + through the baker's cellar-window. + </p> + <p> + She knew that she need not hesitate to use the little piece of money. It + had evidently been lying in the mud for some time, and its owner was + completely lost in the streams of passing people who crowded and jostled + each other all through the day. + </p> + <p> + “But I'll go and ask the baker's woman if she has lost a piece of money,” + she said to herself, rather faintly. + </p> + <p> + So she crossed the pavement and put her wet foot on the step of the shop; + and as she did so she saw something which made her stop. + </p> + <p> + It was a little figure more forlorn than her own—a little figure + which was not much more than a bundle of rags, from which small, bare, red + and muddy feet peeped out—only because the rags with which the + wearer was trying to cover them were not long enough. Above the rags + appeared a shock head of tangled hair and a dirty face, with big, hollow, + hungry eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sara knew they were hungry eyes the moment she saw them, and she felt a + sudden sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “This,” she said to herself, with a little sigh, “is one of the Populace—and + she is hungrier than I am.” + </p> + <p> + The child—this “one of the Populace”—stared up at Sara, and + shuffled herself aside a little, so as to give her more room. She was used + to being made to give room to everybody. She knew that if a policeman + chanced to see her, he would tell her to “move on.” + </p> + <p> + Sara clutched her little four-penny piece, and hesitated a few seconds. + Then she spoke to her. + </p> + <p> + “Are you hungry?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The child shuffled herself and her rags a little more. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't I jist!” she said, in a hoarse voice. “Jist ain't I!” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you had any dinner?” said Sara. + </p> + <p> + “No dinner,” more hoarsely still and with more shuffling, “nor yet no + bre'fast—nor yet no supper—nor nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Since when?” asked Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Dun'no. Never got nothin' to-day—nowhere. I've axed and axed.” + </p> + <p> + Just to look at her made Sara more hungry and faint. But those queer + little thoughts were at work in her brain, and she was talking to herself + though she was sick at heart. + </p> + <p> + “If I'm a princess,” she was saying—“if I'm a princess—! When + they were poor and driven from their thrones—they always shared—with + the Populace—if they met one poorer and hungrier. They always + shared. Buns are a penny each. If it had been sixpence! I could have eaten + six. It won't be enough for either of us—but it will be better than + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” she said to the beggar-child. She went into the shop. It + was warm and smelled delightfully. The woman was just going to put more + hot buns in the window. + </p> + <p> + “If you please,” said Sara, “have you lost fourpence—a silver + fourpence?” And she held the forlorn little piece of money out to her. + </p> + <p> + The woman looked at it and at her—at her intense little face and + draggled, once-fine clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Bless us—no,” she answered. “Did you find it?” + </p> + <p> + “In the gutter,” said Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Keep it, then,” said the woman. “It may have been there a week, and + goodness knows who lost it. You could never find out.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said Sara, “but I thought I'd ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not many would,” said the woman, looking puzzled and interested and + good-natured all at once. “Do you want to buy something?” she added, as + she saw Sara glance toward the buns. + </p> + <p> + “Four buns, if you please,” said Sara; “those at a penny each.” + </p> + <p> + The woman went to the window and put some in a paper bag. Sara noticed + that she put in six. + </p> + <p> + “I said four, if you please,” she explained. “I have only the fourpence.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll throw in two for make-weight,” said the woman, with her good-natured + look. “I dare say you can eat them some time. Aren't you hungry?” + </p> + <p> + A mist rose before Sara's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. “I am very hungry, and I am much obliged to you for + your kindness, and,” she was going to add, “there is a child outside who + is hungrier than I am.” But just at that moment two or three customers + came in at once and each one seemed in a hurry, so she could only thank + the woman again and go out. + </p> + <p> + The child was still huddled up on the corner of the steps. She looked + frightful in her wet and dirty rags. She was staring with a stupid look of + suffering straight before her, and Sara saw her suddenly draw the back of + her roughened, black hand across her eyes to rub away the tears which + seemed to have surprised her by forcing their way from under her lids. She + was muttering to herself. + </p> + <p> + Sara opened the paper bag and took out one of the hot buns, which had + already warmed her cold hands a little. + </p> + <p> + “See,” she said, putting the bun on the ragged lap, “that is nice and hot. + Eat it, and you will not be so hungry.” + </p> + <p> + The child started and stared up at her; then she snatched up the bun and + began to cram it into her mouth with great wolfish bites. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my! Oh, my!” Sara heard her say hoarsely, in wild delight. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my!” + </p> + <p> + Sara took out three more buns and put them down. + </p> + <p> + “She is hungrier than I am,” she said to herself. “She's starving.” But + her hand trembled when she put down the fourth bun. “I'm not starving,” + she said—and she put down the fifth. + </p> + <p> + The little starving London savage was still snatching and devouring when + she turned away. She was too ravenous to give any thanks, even if she had + been taught politeness—which she had not. She was only a poor little + wild animal. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” said Sara. + </p> + <p> + When she reached the other side of the street she looked back. The child + had a bun in both hands, and had stopped in the middle of a bite to watch + her. Sara gave her a little nod, and the child, after another stare,—a + curious, longing stare,—jerked her shaggy head in response, and + until Sara was out of sight she did not take another bite or even finish + the one she had begun. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the baker-woman glanced out of her shop-window. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never!” she exclaimed. “If that young'un hasn't given her buns to + a beggar-child! It wasn't because she didn't want them, either—well, + well, she looked hungry enough. I'd give something to know what she did it + for.” She stood behind her window for a few moments and pondered. Then her + curiosity got the better of her. She went to the door and spoke to the + beggar-child. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave you those buns?” she asked her. + </p> + <p> + The child nodded her head toward Sara's vanishing figure. + </p> + <p> + “What did she say?” inquired the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Axed me if I was 'ungry,” replied the hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Said I was jist!” + </p> + <p> + “And then she came in and got buns and came out and gave them to you, did + she?” + </p> + <p> + The child nodded. + </p> + <p> + “How many?” + </p> + <p> + “Five.” + </p> + <p> + The woman thought it over. “Left just one for herself,” she said, in a low + voice. “And she could have eaten the whole six—I saw it in her + eyes.” + </p> + <p> + She looked after the little, draggled, far-away figure, and felt more + disturbed in her usually comfortable mind than she had felt for many a + day. + </p> + <p> + “I wish she hadn't gone so quick,” she said. “I'm blest if she shouldn't + have had a dozen.” + </p> + <p> + Then she turned to the child. + </p> + <p> + “Are you hungry, yet?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I'm allus 'ungry,” was the answer; “but 'tain't so bad as it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in here,” said the woman, and she held open the shop-door. + </p> + <p> + The child got up and shuffled in. To be invited into a warm place full of + bread seemed an incredible thing. She did not know what was going to + happen; she did not care, even. + </p> + <p> + “Get yourself warm,” said the woman, pointing to a fire in a tiny back + room. “And, look here,—when you're hard up for a bite of bread, you + can come here and ask for it. I'm blest if I won't give it to you for that + young un's sake.” + </p> + <p> + Sara found some comfort in her remaining bun. It was hot; and it was a + great deal better than nothing. She broke off small pieces and ate them + slowly to make it last longer. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose it was a magic bun,” she said, “and a bite was as much as a whole + dinner. I should be over-eating myself if I went on like this.” + </p> + <p> + It was dark when she reached the square in which Miss Minchin's Select + Seminary was situated; the lamps were lighted, and in most of the windows + gleams of light were to be seen. It always interested Sara to catch + glimpses of the rooms before the shutters were closed. She liked to + imagine things about people who sat before the fires in the houses, or who + bent over books at the tables. There was, for instance, the Large Family + opposite. She called these people the Large Family—not because they + were large, for indeed most of them were little,—but because there + were so many of them. There were eight children in the Large Family, and a + stout, rosy mother, and a stout, rosy father, and a stout, rosy + grand-mamma, and any number of servants. The eight children were always + either being taken out to walk, or to ride in perambulators, by + comfortable nurses; or they were going to drive with their mamma; or they + were flying to the door in the evening to kiss their papa and dance around + him and drag off his overcoat and look for packages in the pockets of it; + or they were crowding about the nursery windows and looking out and + pushing each other and laughing,—in fact they were always doing + something which seemed enjoyable and suited to the tastes of a large + family. Sara was quite attached to them, and had given them all names out + of books. She called them the Montmorencys, when she did not call them the + Large Family. The fat, fair baby with the lace cap was Ethelberta + Beauchamp Montmorency; the next baby was Violet Cholmondely Montmorency; + the little boy who could just stagger, and who had such round legs, was + Sydney Cecil Vivian Montmorency; and then came Lilian Evangeline, Guy + Clarence, Maud Marian, Rosalind Gladys, Veronica Eustacia, and Claude + Harold Hector. + </p> + <p> + Next door to the Large Family lived the Maiden Lady, who had a companion, + and two parrots, and a King Charles spaniel; but Sara was not so very fond + of her, because she did nothing in particular but talk to the parrots and + drive out with the spaniel. The most interesting person of all lived next + door to Miss Minchin herself. Sara called him the Indian Gentleman. He was + an elderly gentleman who was said to have lived in the East Indies, and to + be immensely rich and to have something the matter with his liver,—in + fact, it had been rumored that he had no liver at all, and was much + inconvenienced by the fact. At any rate, he was very yellow and he did not + look happy; and when he went out to his carriage, he was almost always + wrapped up in shawls and overcoats, as if he were cold. He had a native + servant who looked even colder than himself, and he had a monkey who + looked colder than the native servant. Sara had seen the monkey sitting on + a table, in the sun, in the parlor window, and he always wore such a + mournful expression that she sympathized with him deeply. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say,” she used sometimes to remark to herself, “he is thinking all + the time of cocoanut trees and of swinging by his tail under a tropical + sun. He might have had a family dependent on him too, poor thing!” + </p> + <p> + The native servant, whom she called the Lascar, looked mournful too, but + he was evidently very faithful to his master. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he saved his master's life in the Sepoy rebellion,” she thought. + “They look as if they might have had all sorts of adventures. I wish I + could speak to the Lascar. I remember a little Hindustani.” + </p> + <p> + And one day she actually did speak to him, and his start at the sound of + his own language expressed a great deal of surprise and delight. He was + waiting for his master to come out to the carriage, and Sara, who was + going on an errand as usual, stopped and spoke a few words. She had a + special gift for languages and had remembered enough Hindustani to make + herself understood by him. When his master came out, the Lascar spoke to + him quickly, and the Indian Gentleman turned and looked at her curiously. + And afterward the Lascar always greeted her with salaams of the most + profound description. And occasionally they exchanged a few words. She + learned that it was true that the Sahib was very rich—that he was + ill—and also that he had no wife nor children, and that England did + not agree with the monkey. + </p> + <p> + “He must be as lonely as I am,” thought Sara. “Being rich does not seem to + make him happy.” + </p> + <p> + That evening, as she passed the windows, the Lascar was closing the + shutters, and she caught a glimpse of the room inside. There was a bright + fire glowing in the grate, and the Indian Gentleman was sitting before it, + in a luxurious chair. The room was richly furnished, and looked + delightfully comfortable, but the Indian Gentleman sat with his head + resting on his hand, and looked as lonely and unhappy as ever. + </p> + <p> + “Poor man!” said Sara; “I wonder what you are `supposing'?” + </p> + <p> + When she went into the house she met Miss Minchin in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you wasted your time?” said Miss Minchin. “You have been out + for hours!” + </p> + <p> + “It was so wet and muddy,” Sara answered. “It was hard to walk, because my + shoes were so bad and slipped about so.” + </p> + <p> + “Make no excuses,” said Miss Minchin, “and tell no falsehoods.” + </p> + <p> + Sara went downstairs to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you stay all night?” said the cook. + </p> + <p> + “Here are the things,” said Sara, and laid her purchases on the table. + </p> + <p> + The cook looked over them, grumbling. She was in a very bad temper indeed. + </p> + <p> + “May I have something to eat?” Sara asked rather faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Tea's over and done with,” was the answer. “Did you expect me to keep it + hot for you?” + </p> + <p> + Sara was silent a second. + </p> + <p> + “I had no dinner,” she said, and her voice was quite low. She made it low, + because she was afraid it would tremble. + </p> + <p> + “There's some bread in the pantry,” said the cook. “That's all you'll get + at this time of day.” + </p> + <p> + Sara went and found the bread. It was old and hard and dry. The cook was + in too bad a humor to give her anything to eat with it. She had just been + scolded by Miss Minchin, and it was always safe and easy to vent her own + spite on Sara. + </p> + <p> + Really it was hard for the child to climb the three long flights of stairs + leading to her garret. She often found them long and steep when she was + tired, but to-night it seemed as if she would never reach the top. Several + times a lump rose in her throat and she was obliged to stop to rest. + </p> + <p> + “I can't pretend anything more to-night,” she said wearily to herself. + “I'm sure I can't. I'll eat my bread and drink some water and then go to + sleep, and perhaps a dream will come and pretend for me. I wonder what + dreams are.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, when she reached the top landing there were tears in her eyes, and + she did not feel like a princess—only like a tired, hungry, lonely, + lonely child. + </p> + <p> + “If my papa had lived,” she said, “they would not have treated me like + this. If my papa had lived, he would have taken care of me.” + </p> + <p> + Then she turned the handle and opened the garret-door. + </p> + <p> + Can you imagine it—can you believe it? I find it hard to believe it + myself. And Sara found it impossible; for the first few moments she + thought something strange had happened to her eyes—to her mind—that + the dream had come before she had had time to fall asleep. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Oh! it isn't true! I know, I know it + isn't true!” And she slipped into the room and closed the door and locked + it, and stood with her back against it, staring straight before her. + </p> + <p> + Do you wonder? In the grate, which had been empty and rusty and cold when + she left it, but which now was blackened and polished up quite + respectably, there was a glowing, blazing fire. On the hob was a little + brass kettle, hissing and boiling; spread upon the floor was a warm, thick + rug; before the fire was a folding-chair, unfolded and with cushions on + it; by the chair was a small folding-table, unfolded, covered with a white + cloth, and upon it were spread small covered dishes, a cup and saucer, and + a tea-pot; on the bed were new, warm coverings, a curious wadded silk + robe, and some books. The little, cold, miserable room seemed changed into + Fairyland. It was actually warm and glowing. + </p> + <p> + “It is bewitched!” said Sara. “Or I am bewitched. I only think I see it + all; but if I can only keep on thinking it, I don't care—I don't + care—if I can only keep it up!” + </p> + <p> + She was afraid to move, for fear it would melt away. She stood with her + back against the door and looked and looked. But soon she began to feel + warm, and then she moved forward. + </p> + <p> + “A fire that I only thought I saw surely wouldn't feel warm,” she said. + “It feels real—real.” + </p> + <p> + She went to it and knelt before it. She touched the chair, the table; she + lifted the cover of one of the dishes. There was something hot and savory + in it—something delicious. The tea-pot had tea in it, ready for the + boiling water from the little kettle; one plate had toast on it, another, + muffins. + </p> + <p> + “It is real,” said Sara. “The fire is real enough to warm me; I can sit in + the chair; the things are real enough to eat.” + </p> + <p> + It was like a fairy story come true—it was heavenly. She went to the + bed and touched the blankets and the wrap. They were real too. She opened + one book, and on the title-page was written in a strange hand, “The little + girl in the attic.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly—was it a strange thing for her to do?—Sara put her + face down on the queer, foreign looking quilted robe and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know who it is,” she said, “but somebody cares about me a little—somebody + is my friend.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow that thought warmed her more than the fire. She had never had a + friend since those happy, luxurious days when she had had everything; and + those days had seemed such a long way off—so far away as to be only + like dreams—during these last years at Miss Minchin's. + </p> + <p> + She really cried more at this strange thought of having a friend—even + though an unknown one—than she had cried over many of her worst + troubles. + </p> + <p> + But these tears seemed different from the others, for when she had wiped + them away they did not seem to leave her eyes and her heart hot and + smarting. + </p> + <p> + And then imagine, if you can, what the rest of the evening was like. The + delicious comfort of taking off the damp clothes and putting on the soft, + warm, quilted robe before the glowing fire—of slipping her cold feet + into the luscious little wool-lined slippers she found near her chair. And + then the hot tea and savory dishes, the cushioned chair and the books! + </p> + <p> + It was just like Sara, that, once having found the things real, she should + give herself up to the enjoyment of them to the very utmost. She had lived + such a life of imagining, and had found her pleasure so long in + improbabilities, that she was quite equal to accepting any wonderful thing + that happened. After she was quite warm and had eaten her supper and + enjoyed herself for an hour or so, it had almost ceased to be surprising + to her that such magical surroundings should be hers. As to finding out + who had done all this, she knew that it was out of the question. She did + not know a human soul by whom it could seem in the least degree probable + that it could have been done. + </p> + <p> + “There is nobody,” she said to herself, “nobody.” She discussed the matter + with Emily, it is true, but more because it was delightful to talk about + it than with a view to making any discoveries. + </p> + <p> + “But we have a friend, Emily,” she said; “we have a friend.” + </p> + <p> + Sara could not even imagine a being charming enough to fill her grand + ideal of her mysterious benefactor. If she tried to make in her mind a + picture of him or her, it ended by being something glittering and strange—not + at all like a real person, but bearing resemblance to a sort of Eastern + magician, with long robes and a wand. And when she fell asleep, beneath + the soft white blanket, she dreamed all night of this magnificent + personage, and talked to him in Hindustani, and made salaams to him. + </p> + <p> + Upon one thing she was determined. She would not speak to any one of her + good fortune—it should be her own secret; in fact, she was rather + inclined to think that if Miss Minchin knew, she would take her treasures + from her or in some way spoil her pleasure. So, when she went down the + next morning, she shut her door very tight and did her best to look as if + nothing unusual had occurred. And yet this was rather hard, because she + could not help remembering, every now and then, with a sort of start, and + her heart would beat quickly every time she repeated to herself, “I have a + friend!” + </p> + <p> + It was a friend who evidently meant to continue to be kind, for when she + went to her garret the next night—and she opened the door, it must + be confessed, with rather an excited feeling—she found that the same + hands had been again at work, and had done even more than before. The fire + and the supper were again there, and beside them a number of other things + which so altered the look of the garret that Sara quite lost her breath. A + piece of bright, strange, heavy cloth covered the battered mantel, and on + it some ornaments had been placed. All the bare, ugly things which could + be covered with draperies had been concealed and made to look quite + pretty. Some odd materials in rich colors had been fastened against the + walls with sharp, fine tacks—so sharp that they could be pressed + into the wood without hammering. Some brilliant fans were pinned up, and + there were several large cushions. A long, old wooden box was covered with + a rug, and some cushions lay on it, so that it wore quite the air of a + sofa. + </p> + <p> + Sara simply sat down, and looked, and looked again. + </p> + <p> + “It is exactly like something fairy come true,” she said; “there isn't the + least difference. I feel as if I might wish for anything—diamonds + and bags of gold—and they would appear! That couldn't be any + stranger than this. Is this my garret? Am I the same cold, ragged, damp + Sara? And to think how I used to pretend, and pretend, and wish there were + fairies! The one thing I always wanted was to see a fairy story come true. + I am living in a fairy story! I feel as if I might be a fairy myself, and + be able to turn things into anything else!” + </p> + <p> + It was like a fairy story, and, what was best of all, it continued. Almost + every day something new was done to the garret. Some new comfort or + ornament appeared in it when Sara opened her door at night, until + actually, in a short time it was a bright little room, full of all sorts + of odd and luxurious things. And the magician had taken care that the + child should not be hungry, and that she should have as many books as she + could read. When she left the room in the morning, the remains of her + supper were on the table, and when she returned in the evening, the + magician had removed them, and left another nice little meal. Downstairs + Miss Minchin was as cruel and insulting as ever, Miss Amelia was as + peevish, and the servants were as vulgar. Sara was sent on errands, and + scolded, and driven hither and thither, but somehow it seemed as if she + could bear it all. The delightful sense of romance and mystery lifted her + above the cook's temper and malice. The comfort she enjoyed and could + always look forward to was making her stronger. If she came home from her + errands wet and tired, she knew she would soon be warm, after she had + climbed the stairs. In a few weeks she began to look less thin. A little + color came into her cheeks, and her eyes did not seem much too big for her + face. + </p> + <p> + It was just when this was beginning to be so apparent that Miss Minchin + sometimes stared at her questioningly, that another wonderful thing + happened. A man came to the door and left several parcels. All were + addressed (in large letters) to “the little girl in the attic.” Sara + herself was sent to open the door, and she took them in. She laid the two + largest parcels down on the hall-table and was looking at the address, + when Miss Minchin came down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Take the things upstairs to the young lady to whom they belong,” she + said. “Don't stand there staring at them.” + </p> + <p> + “They belong to me,” answered Sara, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “To you!” exclaimed Miss Minchin. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know where they came from,” said Sara, “but they're addressed to + me.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minchin came to her side and looked at them with an excited + expression. + </p> + <p> + “What is in them?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Open them!” she demanded, still more excitedly. + </p> + <p> + Sara did as she was told. They contained pretty and comfortable clothing,—clothing + of different kinds; shoes and stockings and gloves, a warm coat, and even + an umbrella. On the pocket of the coat was pinned a paper on which was + written, “To be worn every day—will be replaced by others when + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Minchin was quite agitated. This was an incident which suggested + strange things to her sordid mind. Could it be that she had made a mistake + after all, and that the child so neglected and so unkindly treated by her + had some powerful friend in the background? It would not be very pleasant + if there should be such a friend, and he or she should learn all the truth + about the thin, shabby clothes, the scant food, the hard work. She felt + queer indeed and uncertain, and she gave a side-glance at Sara. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, in a voice such as she had never used since the day the + child lost her father—“well, some one is very kind to you. As you + have the things and are to have new ones when they are worn out, you may + as well go and put them on and look respectable; and after you are + dressed, you may come downstairs and learn your lessons in the + school-room.” + </p> + <p> + So it happened that, about half an hour afterward, Sara struck the entire + school-room of pupils dumb with amazement, by making her appearance in a + costume such as she had never worn since the change of fortune whereby she + ceased to be a show-pupil and a parlor-boarder. She scarcely seemed to be + the same Sara. She was neatly dressed in a pretty gown of warm browns and + reds, and even her stockings and slippers were nice and dainty. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps some one has left her a fortune,” one of the girls whispered. “I + always thought something would happen to her, she is so queer.” + </p> + <p> + That night when Sara went to her room she carried out a plan she had been + devising for some time. She wrote a note to her unknown friend. It ran as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will not think it is not polite that I should write this note + to you when you wish to keep yourself a secret, but I do not mean to be + impolite, or to try to find out at all, only I want to thank you for being + so kind to me—so beautiful kind, and making everything like a fairy + story. I am so grateful to you and I am so happy! I used to be so lonely + and cold and, hungry, and now, oh, just think what you have done for me! + Please let me say just these words. It seems as if I ought to say them. + Thank you—thank you—thank you! + </p> + <p> + “THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE ATTIC.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning she left this on the little table, and it was taken away + with the other things; so she felt sure the magician had received it, and + she was happier for the thought. + </p> + <p> + A few nights later a very odd thing happened. She found something in the + room which she certainly would never have expected. When she came in as + usual she saw something small and dark in her chair,—an odd, tiny + figure, which turned toward her a little, weird-looking, wistful face. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's the monkey!” she cried. “It is the Indian Gentleman's monkey! + Where can he have come from?” + </p> + <p> + It was the monkey, sitting up and looking so like a mite of a child that + it really was quite pathetic; and very soon Sara found out how he happened + to be in her room. The skylight was open, and it was easy to guess that he + had crept out of his master's garret-window, which was only a few feet + away and perfectly easy to get in and out of, even for a climber less + agile than a monkey. He had probably climbed to the garret on a tour of + investigation, and getting out upon the roof, and being attracted by the + light in Sara's attic, had crept in. At all events this seemed quite + reasonable, and there he was; and when Sara went to him, he actually put + out his queer, elfish little hands, caught her dress, and jumped into her + arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you queer, poor, ugly, foreign little thing!” said Sara, caressing + him. “I can't help liking you. You look like a sort of baby, but I am so + glad you are not, because your mother could not be proud of you, and + nobody would dare to say you were like any of your relations. But I do + like you; you have such a forlorn little look in your face. Perhaps you + are sorry you are so ugly, and it's always on your mind. I wonder if you + have a mind?” + </p> + <p> + The monkey sat and looked at her while she talked, and seemed much + interested in her remarks, if one could judge by his eyes and his + forehead, and the way he moved his head up and down, and held it sideways + and scratched it with his little hand. He examined Sara quite seriously, + and anxiously, too. He felt the stuff of her dress, touched her hands, + climbed up and examined her ears, and then sat on her shoulder holding a + lock of her hair, looking mournful but not at all agitated. Upon the + whole, he seemed pleased with Sara. + </p> + <p> + “But I must take you back,” she said to him, “though I'm sorry to have to + do it. Oh, the company you would be to a person!” + </p> + <p> + She lifted him from her shoulder, set him on her knee, and gave him a bit + of cake. He sat and nibbled it, and then put his head on one side, looked + at her, wrinkled his forehead, and then nibbled again, in the most + companionable manner. + </p> + <p> + “But you must go home,” said Sara at last; and she took him in her arms to + carry him downstairs. Evidently he did not want to leave the room, for as + they reached the door he clung to her neck and gave a little scream of + anger. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't be an ungrateful monkey,” said Sara. “You ought to be fondest + of your own family. I am sure the Lascar is good to you.” + </p> + <p> + Nobody saw her on her way out, and very soon she was standing on the + Indian Gentleman's front steps, and the Lascar had opened the door for + her. + </p> + <p> + “I found your monkey in my room,” she said in Hindustani. “I think he got + in through the window.” + </p> + <p> + The man began a rapid outpouring of thanks; but, just as he was in the + midst of them, a fretful, hollow voice was heard through the open door of + the nearest room. The instant he heard it the Lascar disappeared, and left + Sara still holding the monkey. + </p> + <p> + It was not many moments, however, before he came back bringing a message. + His master had told him to bring Missy into the library. The Sahib was + very ill, but he wished to see Missy. + </p> + <p> + Sara thought this odd, but she remembered reading stories of Indian + gentlemen who, having no constitutions, were extremely cross and full of + whims, and who must have their own way. So she followed the Lascar. + </p> + <p> + When she entered the room the Indian Gentleman was lying on an easy chair, + propped up with pillows. He looked frightfully ill. His yellow face was + thin, and his eyes were hollow. He gave Sara a rather curious look—it + was as if she wakened in him some anxious interest. + </p> + <p> + “You live next door?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Sara. “I live at Miss Minchin's.” + </p> + <p> + “She keeps a boarding-school?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sara. + </p> + <p> + “And you are one of her pupils?” + </p> + <p> + Sara hesitated a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know exactly what I am,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked the Indian Gentleman. + </p> + <p> + The monkey gave a tiny squeak, and Sara stroked him. + </p> + <p> + “At first,” she said, “I was a pupil and a parlor boarder; but now—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by `at first'?” asked the Indian Gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “When I was first taken there by my papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what has happened since then?” said the invalid, staring at her and + knitting his brows with a puzzled expression. + </p> + <p> + “My papa died,” said Sara. “He lost all his money, and there was none left + for me—and there was no one to take care of me or pay Miss Minchin, + so—” + </p> + <p> + “So you were sent up into the garret and neglected, and made into a + half-starved little drudge!” put in the Indian Gentleman. “That is about + it, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + The color deepened on Sara's cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “There was no one to take care of me, and no money,” she said. “I belong + to nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “What did your father mean by losing his money?” said the gentleman, + fretfully. + </p> + <p> + The red in Sara's cheeks grew deeper, and she fixed her odd eyes on the + yellow face. + </p> + <p> + “He did not lose it himself,” she said. “He had a friend he was fond of, + and it was his friend, who took his money. I don't know how. I don't + understand. He trusted his friend too much.” + </p> + <p> + She saw the invalid start—the strangest start—as if he had + been suddenly frightened. Then he spoke nervously and excitedly: + </p> + <p> + “That's an old story,” he said. “It happens every day; but sometimes those + who are blamed—those who do the wrong—don't intend it, and are + not so bad. It may happen through a mistake—a miscalculation; they + may not be so bad.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Sara, “but the suffering is just as bad for the others. It + killed my papa.” + </p> + <p> + The Indian Gentleman pushed aside some of the gorgeous wraps that covered + him. + </p> + <p> + “Come a little nearer, and let me look at you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + His voice sounded very strange; it had a more nervous and excited tone + than before. Sara had an odd fancy that he was half afraid to look at her. + She came and stood nearer, the monkey clinging to her and watching his + master anxiously over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The Indian Gentleman's hollow, restless eyes fixed themselves on her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes; I can see it. Tell me your father's name.” + </p> + <p> + “His name was Ralph Crewe,” said Sara. “Captain Crewe. Perhaps,”—a + sudden thought flashing upon her,—“perhaps you may have heard of + him? He died in India.” + </p> + <p> + The Indian Gentleman sank back upon his pillows. He looked very weak, and + seemed out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “I knew him. I was his friend. I meant no harm. If he had + only lived he would have known. It turned out well after all. He was a + fine young fellow. I was fond of him. I will make it right. Call—call + the man.” + </p> + <p> + Sara thought he was going to die. But there was no need to call the + Lascar. He must have been waiting at the door. He was in the room and by + his master's side in an instant. He seemed to know what to do. He lifted + the drooping head, and gave the invalid something in a small glass. The + Indian Gentleman lay panting for a few minutes, and then he spoke in an + exhausted but eager voice, addressing the Lascar in Hindustani: + </p> + <p> + “Go for Carmichael,” he said. “Tell him to come here at once. Tell him I + have found the child!” + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Carmichael arrived (which occurred in a very few minutes, for it + turned out that he was no other than the father of the Large Family across + the street), Sara went home, and was allowed to take the monkey with her. + She certainly did not sleep very much that night, though the monkey + behaved beautifully, and did not disturb her in the least. It was not the + monkey that kept her awake—it was her thoughts, and her wonders as + to what the Indian Gentleman had meant when he said, “Tell him I have + found the child.” “What child?” Sara kept asking herself. + </p> + <p> + “I was the only child there; but how had he found me, and why did he want + to find me? And what is he going to do, now I am found? Is it something + about my papa? Do I belong to somebody? Is he one of my relations? Is + something going to happen?” + </p> + <p> + But she found out the very next day, in the morning; and it seemed that + she had been living in a story even more than she had imagined. First, Mr. + Carmichael came and had an interview with Miss Minchin. And it appeared + that Mr. Carmichael, besides occupying the important situation of father + to the Large Family was a lawyer, and had charge of the affairs of Mr. + Carrisford—which was the real name of the Indian Gentleman—and, + as Mr. Carrisford's lawyer, Mr. Carmichael had come to explain something + curious to Miss Minchin regarding Sara. But, being the father of the Large + Family, he had a very kind and fatherly feeling for children; and so, + after seeing Miss Minchin alone, what did he do but go and bring across + the square his rosy, motherly, warm-hearted wife, so that she herself + might talk to the little lonely girl, and tell her everything in the best + and most motherly way. + </p> + <p> + And then Sara learned that she was to be a poor little drudge and outcast + no more, and that a great change had come in her fortunes; for all the + lost fortune had come back to her, and a great deal had even been added to + it. It was Mr. Carrisford who had been her father's friend, and who had + made the investments which had caused him the apparent loss of his money; + but it had so happened that after poor young Captain Crewe's death one of + the investments which had seemed at the time the very worst had taken a + sudden turn, and proved to be such a success that it had been a mine of + wealth, and had more than doubled the Captain's lost fortune, as well as + making a fortune for Mr. Carrisford himself. But Mr. Carrisford had been + very unhappy. He had truly loved his poor, handsome, generous young + friend, and the knowledge that he had caused his death had weighed upon + him always, and broken both his health and spirit. The worst of it had + been that, when first he thought himself and Captain Crewe ruined, he had + lost courage and gone away because he was not brave enough to face the + consequences of what he had done, and so he had not even known where the + young soldier's little girl had been placed. When he wanted to find her, + and make restitution, he could discover no trace of her; and the certainty + that she was poor and friendless somewhere had made him more miserable + than ever. When he had taken the house next to Miss Minchin's he had been + so ill and wretched that he had for the time given up the search. His + troubles and the Indian climate had brought him almost to death's door—indeed, + he had not expected to live more than a few months. And then one day the + Lascar had told him about Sara's speaking Hindustani, and gradually he had + begun to take a sort of interest in the forlorn child, though he had only + caught a glimpse of her once or twice and he had not connected her with + the child of his friend, perhaps because he was too languid to think much + about anything. But the Lascar had found out something of Sara's unhappy + little life, and about the garret. One evening he had actually crept out + of his own garret-window and looked into hers, which was a very easy + matter, because, as I have said, it was only a few feet away—and he + had told his master what he had seen, and in a moment of compassion the + Indian Gentleman had told him to take into the wretched little room such + comforts as he could carry from the one window to the other. And the + Lascar, who had developed an interest in, and an odd fondness for, the + child who had spoken to him in his own tongue, had been pleased with the + work; and, having the silent swiftness and agile movements of many of his + race, he had made his evening journeys across the few feet of roof from + garret-window to garret-window, without any trouble at all. He had watched + Sara's movements until he knew exactly when she was absent from her room + and when she returned to it, and so he had been able to calculate the best + times for his work. Generally he had made them in the dusk of the evening; + but once or twice, when he had seen her go out on errands, he had dared to + go over in the daytime, being quite sure that the garret was never entered + by any one but herself. His pleasure in the work and his reports of the + results had added to the invalid's interest in it, and sometimes the + master had found the planning gave him something to think of, which made + him almost forget his weariness and pain. And at last, when Sara brought + home the truant monkey, he had felt a wish to see her, and then her + likeness to her father had done the rest. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my dear,” said good Mrs. Carmichael, patting Sara's hand, “all + your troubles are over, I am sure, and you are to come home with me and be + taken care of as if you were one of my own little girls; and we are so + pleased to think of having you with us until everything is settled, and + Mr. Carrisford is better. The excitement of last night has made him very + weak, but we really think he will get well, now that such a load is taken + from his mind. And when he is stronger, I am sure he will be as kind to + you as your own papa would have been. He has a very good heart, and he is + fond of children—and he has no family at all. But we must make you + happy and rosy, and you must learn to play and run about, as my little + girls do—” + </p> + <p> + “As your little girls do?” said Sara. “I wonder if I could. I used to + watch them and wonder what it was like. Shall I feel as if I belonged to + somebody?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my love, yes!—yes!” said Mrs. Carmichael; “dear me, yes!” And + her motherly blue eyes grew quite moist, and she suddenly took Sara in her + arms and kissed her. That very night, before she went to sleep, Sara had + made the acquaintance of the entire Large Family, and such excitement as + she and the monkey had caused in that joyous circle could hardly be + described. There was not a child in the nursery, from the Eton boy who was + the eldest, to the baby who was the youngest, who had not laid some + offering on her shrine. All the older ones knew something of her wonderful + story. She had been born in India; she had been poor and lonely and + unhappy, and had lived in a garret and been treated unkindly; and now she + was to be rich and happy, and be taken care of. They were so sorry for + her, and so delighted and curious about her, all at once. The girls wished + to be with her constantly, and the little boys wished to be told about + India; the second baby, with the short round legs, simply sat and stared + at her and the monkey, possibly wondering why she had not brought a + hand-organ with her. + </p> + <p> + “I shall certainly wake up presently,” Sara kept saying to herself. “This + one must be a dream. The other one turned out to be real; but this + couldn't be. But, oh! how happy it is!” + </p> + <p> + And even when she went to bed, in the bright, pretty room not far from + Mrs. Carmichael's own, and Mrs. Carmichael came and kissed her and patted + her and tucked her in cozily, she was not sure that she would not wake up + in the garret in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “And oh, Charles, dear,” Mrs. Carmichael said to her husband, when she + went downstairs to him, “We must get that lonely look out of her eyes! It + isn't a child's look at all. I couldn't bear to see it in one of my own + children. What the poor little love must have had to bear in that dreadful + woman's house! But, surely, she will forget it in time.” + </p> + <p> + But though the lonely look passed away from Sara's face, she never quite + forgot the garret at Miss Minchin's; and, indeed, she always liked to + remember the wonderful night when the tired princess crept upstairs, cold + and wet, and opening the door found fairy-land waiting for her. And there + was no one of the many stories she was always being called upon to tell in + the nursery of the Large Family which was more popular than that + particular one; and there was no one of whom the Large Family were so fond + as of Sara. Mr. Carrisford did not die, but recovered, and Sara went to + live with him; and no real princess could have been better taken care of + than she was. It seemed that the Indian Gentleman could not do enough to + make her happy, and to repay her for the past; and the Lascar was her + devoted slave. As her odd little face grew brighter, it grew so pretty and + interesting that Mr. Carrisford used to sit and watch it many an evening, + as they sat by the fire together. + </p> + <p> + They became great friends, and they used to spend hours reading and + talking together; and, in a very short time, there was no pleasanter sight + to the Indian Gentleman than Sara sitting in her big chair on the opposite + side of the hearth, with a book on her knee and her soft, dark hair + tumbling over her warm cheeks. She had a pretty habit of looking up at him + suddenly, with a bright smile, and then he would often say to her: + </p> + <p> + “Are you happy, Sara?” + </p> + <p> + And then she would answer: + </p> + <p> + “I feel like a real princess, Uncle Tom.” + </p> + <p> + He had told her to call him Uncle Tom. + </p> + <p> + “There doesn't seem to be anything left to `suppose,'” she added. + </p> + <p> + There was a little joke between them that he was a magician, and so could + do anything he liked; and it was one of his pleasures to invent plans to + surprise her with enjoyments she had not thought of. Scarcely a day passed + in which he did not do something new for her. Sometimes she found new + flowers in her room; sometimes a fanciful little gift tucked into some odd + corner, sometimes a new book on her pillow;—once as they sat + together in the evening they heard the scratch of a heavy paw on the door + of the room, and when Sara went to find out what it was, there stood a + great dog—a splendid Russian boar-hound with a grand silver and gold + collar. Stooping to read the inscription upon the collar, Sara was + delighted to read the words: “I am Boris; I serve the Princess Sara.” + </p> + <p> + Then there was a sort of fairy nursery arranged for the entertainment of + the juvenile members of the Large Family, who were always coming to see + Sara and the Lascar and the monkey. Sara was as fond of the Large Family + as they were of her. She soon felt as if she were a member of it, and the + companionship of the healthy, happy children was very good for her. All + the children rather looked up to her and regarded her as the cleverest and + most brilliant of creatures—particularly after it was discovered + that she not only knew stories of every kind, and could invent new ones at + a moment's notice, but that she could help with lessons, and speak French + and German, and discourse with the Lascar in Hindustani. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a painful experience for Miss Minchin to watch her + ex-pupil's fortunes, as she had the daily opportunity to do, and to feel + that she had made a serious mistake, from a business point of view. She + had even tried to retrieve it by suggesting that Sara's education should + be continued under her care, and had gone to the length of making an + appeal to the child herself. + </p> + <p> + “I have always been very fond of you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Then Sara fixed her eyes upon her and gave her one of her odd looks. + </p> + <p> + “Have you?” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Miss Minchin. “Amelia and I have always said you were the + cleverest child we had with us, and I am sure we could make you happy—as + a parlor boarder.” + </p> + <p> + Sara thought of the garret and the day her ears were boxed,—and of + that other day, that dreadful, desolate day when she had been told that + she belonged to nobody; that she had no home and no friends,—and she + kept her eyes fixed on Miss Minchin's face. + </p> + <p> + “You know why I would not stay with you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + And it seems probable that Miss Minchin did, for after that simple answer + she had not the boldness to pursue the subject. She merely sent in a bill + for the expense of Sara's education and support, and she made it quite + large enough. And because Mr. Carrisford thought Sara would wish it paid, + it was paid. When Mr. Carmichael paid it he had a brief interview with + Miss Minchin in which he expressed his opinion with much clearness and + force; and it is quite certain that Miss Minchin did not enjoy the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + Sara had been about a month with Mr. Carrisford, and had begun to realize + that her happiness was not a dream, when one night the Indian Gentleman + saw that she sat a long time with her cheek on her hand looking at the + fire. + </p> + <p> + “What are you `supposing,' Sara?” he asked. Sara looked up with a bright + color on her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I was `supposing,'” she said; “I was remembering that hungry day, and a + child I saw.” + </p> + <p> + “But there were a great many hungry days,” said the Indian Gentleman, with + a rather sad tone in his voice. “Which hungry day was it?” + </p> + <p> + “I forgot you didn't know,” said Sara. “It was the day I found the things + in my garret.” + </p> + <p> + And then she told him the story of the bun-shop, and the fourpence, and + the child who was hungrier than herself; and somehow as she told it, + though she told it very simply indeed, the Indian Gentleman found it + necessary to shade his eyes with his hand and look down at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “And I was `supposing' a kind of plan,” said Sara, when she had finished; + “I was thinking I would like to do something.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said her guardian in a low tone. “You may do anything you + like to do, Princess.” + </p> + <p> + “I was wondering,” said Sara,—“you know you say I have a great deal + of money—and I was wondering if I could go and see the bun-woman and + tell her that if, when hungry children—particularly on those + dreadful days—come and sit on the steps or look in at the window, + she would just call them in and give them something to eat, she might send + the bills to me and I would pay them—could I do that?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall do it to-morrow morning,” said the Indian Gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Sara; “you see I know what it is to be hungry, and it is + very hard when one can't even pretend it away.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, my dear,” said the Indian Gentleman. “Yes, it must be. Try to + forget it. Come and sit on this footstool near my knee, and only remember + you are a princess.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sara, “and I can give buns and bread to the Populace.” And she + went and sat on the stool, and the Indian Gentleman (he used to like her + to call him that, too, sometimes,—in fact very often) drew her + small, dark head down upon his knee and stroked her hair. + </p> + <p> + The next morning a carriage drew up before the door of the baker's shop, + and a gentleman and a little girl got out,—oddly enough, just as the + bun-woman was putting a tray of smoking hotbuns into the window. When Sara + entered the shop the woman turned and looked at her and, leaving the buns, + came and stood behind the counter. For a moment she looked at Sara very + hard indeed, and then her good-natured face lighted up. + </p> + <p> + “I'm that sure I remember you, miss,” she said. “And yet—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sara, “once you gave me six buns for fourpence, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And you gave five of 'em to a beggar-child,” said the woman. “I've always + remembered it. I couldn't make it out at first. I beg pardon, sir, but + there's not many young people that notices a hungry face in that way, and + I've thought of it many a time. Excuse the liberty, miss, but you look + rosier and better than you did that day.” + </p> + <p> + “I am better, thank you,” said Sara, “and—and I am happier, and I + have come to ask you to do something for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Me, miss!” exclaimed the woman, “why, bless you, yes, miss! What can I + do?” + </p> + <p> + And then Sara made her little proposal, and the woman listened to it with + an astonished face. + </p> + <p> + “Why, bless me!” she said, when she had heard it all. “Yes, miss, it'll be + a pleasure to me to do it. I am a working woman, myself, and can't afford + to do much on my own account, and there's sights of trouble on every side; + but if you'll excuse me, I'm bound to say I've given many a bit of bread + away since that wet afternoon, just along o' thinkin' of you. An' how wet + an' cold you was, an' how you looked,—an' yet you give away your hot + buns as if you was a princess.” + </p> + <p> + The Indian Gentleman smiled involuntarily, and Sara smiled a little too. + “She looked so hungry,” she said. “She was hungrier than I was.” + </p> + <p> + “She was starving,” said the woman. “Many's the time she's told me of it + since—how she sat there in the wet, and felt as if a wolf was + a-tearing at her poor young insides.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have you seen her since then?” exclaimed Sara. “Do you know where she + is?” + </p> + <p> + “I know!” said the woman. “Why, she's in that there back room now, miss, + an' has been for a month, an' a decent, well-meaning girl she's going to + turn out, an' such a help to me in the day shop, an' in the kitchen, as + you'd scarce believe, knowing how she's lived.” + </p> + <p> + She stepped to the door of the little back parlor and spoke; and the next + minute a girl came out and followed her behind the counter. And actually + it was the beggar-child, clean and neatly clothed, and looking as if she + had not been hungry for a long time. She looked shy, but she had a nice + face, now that she was no longer a savage; and the wild look had gone from + her eyes. And she knew Sara in an instant, and stood and looked at her as + if she could never look enough. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said the woman, “I told her to come here when she was hungry, + and when she'd come I'd give her odd jobs to do, an' I found she was + willing, an' somehow I got to like her; an' the end of it was I've given + her a place an' a home, an' she helps me, an' behaves as well, an' is as + thankful as a girl can be. Her name's Anne—she has no other.” + </p> + <p> + The two children stood and looked at each other a few moments. In Sara's + eyes a new thought was growing. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you have such a good home,” she said. “Perhaps Mrs. Brown will + let you give the buns and bread to the children—perhaps you would + like to do it—because you know what it is to be hungry, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + And somehow Sara felt as if she understood her, though the girl said + nothing more, and only stood still and looked, and looked after her as she + went out of the shop and got into the carriage and drove away. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sara Crewe, by Frances Hodgson Burnett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SARA CREWE *** + +***** This file should be named 137-h.htm or 137-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/137/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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