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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 + or, What Happened at Miss Minchin's + +Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett + +Release Date: March 7, 2008 [EBook #24772] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SARA CREWE *** + + + + +Produced by Colin Bell, Andrew Wainwright, Joseph Cooper +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/co300.jpg" width="300" height="386" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</div> + +<p class="xxl300 center">SARA CREWE</p> + +<p class="larger center">OR</p> + +<p class="xlarge center">WHAT HAPPENED AT MISS MINCHIN'S</p> + +<p class="larger center">BY</p> + +<p class="xlarge center">FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT</p> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK<br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br /> +1891</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1888, by</span> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.<br /> +[<i>All rights reserved.</i>]</p> + +<p class="center">Press of J. J. Little & Co., +Astor Place, New York.</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 750px;"> +<img src="images/gr04.jpg" width="750" height="963" id="gr04" name="gr04" alt="Frontispiece" title="Frontispiece" /> +<span class="smaller caption">"SHE LAID HER DOLL, EMILY, ACROSS HER KNEES, AND PUT HER +FACE DOWN UPON HER, AND HER ARMS AROUND HER, AND SAT THERE, NOT SAYING +ONE WORD, NOT MAKING ONE SOUND."</span> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<h2><i>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</i></h2> + +<p class="center"><i>FROM DRAWINGS BY REGINALD B. BIRCH.</i></p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> + +<tr><td align="left">"<i>She laid her doll, Emily, across her knees, and put her face down upon +her, and her arms around her, and sat there, not saying one word, not +making one sound.</i>"</td><td align="right"><a href="#gr04"><i>Frontispiece.</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"<i>She slowly advanced into the parlor, clutching her doll.</i>"</td><td align="right"><a href="#gr15"><i>Page 15</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"<i>Eat it," said Sara, "and you will not be so hungry.</i>"</td><td align="right"><a href="#gr41"><i>" 41</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"<i>He was waiting for his Master to come out to the carriage, and Sara +stopped and spoke a few words to him.</i>"</td><td align="right"><a href="#gr49"><i>" 49</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"<i>The monkey seemed much interested in her remarks.</i>"</td><td align="right"><a href="#gr63"><i>" 63</i></a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">"<i>He drew her small, dark head down upon his knee and stroked her +hair.</i>"</td><td align="right"><a href="#gr79"><i>" 79</i></a></td></tr> + +</table> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/gr08.jpg" width="400" height="249" alt="Illustration" title="Illustration" /> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SARA CREWE;</h2> + +<h4>OR,</h4> + +<h3>WHAT HAPPENED AT MISS MINCHIN'S.</h3><br /> + + +<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> + +<table border="1" cellpadding="10" summary="Miss Minchin's Select Seminary for Young Ladies"> +<tr><td>MISS MINCHIN'S<br /><br /> +SELECT SEMINARY FOR YOUNG LADIES.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p><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; <i>quite</i> a favorite pupil, I see."</p> + +<p>For the first year she was a favorite pupil; at least she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> 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> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 750px;"> +<img src="images/gr15.jpg" width="750" height="997" id="gr15" name="gr15" alt=""SHE SLOWLY ADVANCED INTO THE PARLOR, CLUTCHING HER DOLL."" title=""SHE SLOWLY ADVANCED INTO THE PARLOR, CLUTCHING HER DOLL."" /> +<span class="smaller caption">"SHE SLOWLY ADVANCED INTO THE PARLOR, CLUTCHING HER DOLL."</span> +</div> + +<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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> 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> + +<hr /> + +<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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +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 +<i>think</i>. 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></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 <i>hear</i>!"</p> + +<p>She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent wax face, and +suddenly a sort of heart-broken 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. "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 +<i>doll</i>!"</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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> 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 <i>you</i> 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 after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>ward, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></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 <i>me</i>?" 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> 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 <i>all</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> 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 great, wide steel grate here, and a great glowing +fire—a <i>glowing</i> 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 criss-cross 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> 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 <i>am</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> 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> + +<hr /> + +<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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> many feet, but still with spirit enough left +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.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> 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 prin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>cess—! 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. <i>You</i> could never find out."</p> + +<p>"I know that," said Sara, "but I thought '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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></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> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 750px;"> +<img src="images/gr41.jpg" width="750" height="958" id="gr41" name="gr41" alt=""EAT IT," SAID SARA, "AND YOU WILL NOT BE SO HUNGRY."" title=""EAT IT," SAID SARA, "AND YOU WILL NOT BE SO HUNGRY."" /> +<span class="smaller caption">"EAT IT," SAID SARA, "AND YOU WILL NOT BE SO HUNGRY."</span> +</div> + +<p>The child started and stared up at her; then she snatched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>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>"<i>Oh, my!</i>"</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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> 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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></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> + +<hr /> + +<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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> 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 +grandmamma, 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> 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> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 750px;"> +<img src="images/gr49.jpg" width="750" height="986" id="gr49" name="gr49" alt=""HE WAS WAITING FOR HIS MASTER TO COME OUT TO THE CARRIAGE, AND SARA STOPPED AND SPOKE A FEW WORDS TO HIM."" /> +<span class="smaller caption">"HE WAS WAITING FOR HIS MASTER TO COME OUT TO THE CARRIAGE, AND SARA STOPPED AND<br />SPOKE A FEW WORDS TO HIM."</span> +</div> + +<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 <i>you</i> are 'supposing'?"</p> + +<p>When she went into the house she met Miss Minchin in the hall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> 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>I</i> am bewitched. I only <i>think</i> 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 <i>thought</i> I saw surely wouldn't <i>feel</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> 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! <i>That</i> 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 <i>living</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> 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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></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> + +<div class="blockquot"><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. <i>Thank you—thank +you—thank you!</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Little Girl in the Attic.</span>" </p></div> + +<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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> 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 <i>was</i> 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 <i>not</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> 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> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 750px;"> +<img src="images/gr63.jpg" width="750" height="955" id="gr63" name="gr63" alt=""THE MONKEY SEEMED MUCH INTERESTED IN HER REMARKS."" title=""THE MONKEY SEEMED MUCH INTERESTED IN HER REMARKS."" /> +<span class="smaller caption">"THE MONKEY SEEMED MUCH INTERESTED IN HER REMARKS."</span> +</div> + +<p>"But I must take you back," she said to him, "though I'm sorry to have +to do it. Oh, the company you <i>would</i> 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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></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:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> 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. "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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> 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.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> 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 +<i>couldn't</i> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> 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,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> 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 <i>was</i> '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?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></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 <i>pretend</i> 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> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 750px;"> +<img src="images/gr79.jpg" width="750" height="790" id="gr79" name="gr79" alt=""HE DREW HER SMALL DARK HEAD DOWN UPON HIS KNEE AND STROKED HER HAIR."" title=""HE DREW HER SMALL DARK HEAD DOWN UPON HIS KNEE AND STROKED HER HAIR."" /> +<span class="smaller caption">"HE DREW HER SMALL DARK HEAD DOWN UPON HIS KNEE AND STROKED HER HAIR."</span> +</div> + +<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 hot buns 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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></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> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<h2 class="xxlarge"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</i></h2> + +<table summary="(layout)" cellspacing="10"> +<tr><td colspan="2"> + +<p class="ad4">LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.</p> + +<p class="ad6">SQUARE 8vo, $2.00.</p> + +</td><td> </td><td colspan="2"> + +<p class="ad4">SARA CREWE.</p> + +<p class="ad6">SQUARE 8vo, $1.00.</p> + +</td></tr> + +<tr><td rowspan="2"> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/gr02.jpg" width="150" height="278" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +</td><td> + +<p>"<i>In 'Little Lord Fauntleroy' we gain another charming child to add to +our gallery of juvenile heroes and heroines; one who teaches a great +lesson with such truth and sweetness, that we part with him with real +regret when the episode is over.</i>" + +—<span class="smcap">Louisa M. Alcott.</span></p> + +</td><td></td><td> + +<p>"<i>Everybody was in love with 'Little Lord Fauntleroy,' and I think all +the world and the rest of mankind will be in love with 'Sara Crewe.' The +tale is so tender, so wise, so human, that I wish every girl in America +could read it, for I think every one would be made better by it.</i>" + +—<span class="smcap">Louise Chandler Moulton.</span></p> + +</td><td rowspan="2"> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/gr02a.jpg" width="150" height="230" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="3" style="vertical-align:bottom;"> + +<p class="ad4">LITTLE SAINT ELIZABETH, +<span class="smcap">And Other Stories</span>.</p> + +<p class="ad6">SQUARE 8vo, $1.50.</p> + +</td></tr></table> + +<p>"<i>The pretty tale has for its heroine a little French girl brought up in +an old château in Normandy by an aunt who is a recluse and dévote. A +child of this type transplanted suddenly to the realistic atmosphere of +New York must inevitably have much to suffer. The quaint little figure +blindly trying to guess the riddle of duty under these unfamiliar +conditions is pathetic, and Mrs. Burnett touches it in with delicate +strokes.</i>" + +—<span class="smcap">Susan Coolidge.</span></p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>Illustrated by REGINALD B. BIRCH.</i></p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2 class="xxlarge"><i>SCRIBNER'S BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG.</i></h2> + + +<p class="ad1"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Burnett's Three Famous Juveniles.</span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/gr85.jpg" width="150" height="281" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"><b>Uniform in style and Illustrated by R. B. Birch.</b></p> + +<p class="center"><i>A NEW BOOK FOR THE CHRISTMAS SEASON.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4"><span class="smcap">Little Saint Elizabeth +and other stories.</span></p> + +<p class="center">BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.</p> + +<p class="center"><b>With 12 new full-page Drawings by Reginald B. Birch.</b></p> + +<p class="center"><i>One volume, square 8vo, $1.50.</i> + +<i>FROM SUSAN COOLIDGE:</i></p> + +<p>"The pretty tale from which the book borrows its name has for its +heroine a little French girl brought up in an old château in Normandy, +by an aunt who is a recluse and <i>dévote</i>. A child of this type, +transplanted suddenly while still in childhood to the realistic +atmosphere of prosperous New York, must inevitably have much to suffer. +She is puzzled; she is lonely; she has no one to direct her conscience. +The quaint little figure, blindly trying to guess the riddle of duty +under these unfamiliar conditions, is pathetic, and Mrs. Burnett touches +it in with delicate strokes. The stories are prettily illustrated by +Birch."</p> + +<table border="0" cellspacing="10" summary="(layout)"> +<tr><td> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/gr85a.jpg" width="100" height="247" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad3"><span class="smcap">Little Lord Fauntleroy.</span></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>Beautifully Illustrated by Reginald B. Birch.</b></p> + +<p class="center"><i>One volume, square 8vo, $2.00.</i></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>FROM LOUISA M. ALCOTT:</i></p> + +<p>"In 'Little Lord Fauntleroy' we gain another charming child to add to +our gallery of juvenile heroes and heroines; one who teaches a great +lesson with such truth and sweetness that we part with him with real +regret when the episode is over."</p> + +</td><td> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/gr85b.jpg" width="150" height="213" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad3"><span class="smcap">Sara Crewe</span>;</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>OR, WHAT HAPPENED AT MISS MINCHIN'S.</i></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>Richly and Fully Illustrated by R. B. Birch.</b></p> + +<p class="center"><i>One volume, square 8vo, $1.00.</i></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>FROM LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON:</i></p> + +<p>"Everybody was in love with 'Little Lord Fauntleroy,' and I think all +the world and the rest of mankind will be in love with 'Sara Crewe.' I +wish every girl in America could read it."</p> + +</td></tr></table> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad1">TWO BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.</p> + +<p>Mr. Beard has added sixty new drawings to his "American Boy's Handy +Book," to illustrate the new games, sports, and mechanical contrivances +which he has incorporated in this latest edition. The Misses Beard's +companion volume, "The American Girl's Handy Book," is reduced in price, +all the features being retained. Both are profusely illustrated with +hundreds of pictures and designs, and in their new dress will be prime +favorites with holiday buyers.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/gr86.jpg" width="250" height="379" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad2">THE AMERICAN BOY'S HANDY BOOK;</p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>OR, WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT</i>.</p> + +<p class="ad4">BY DANIEL C. BEARD.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With over 360 Illustrations by the Author.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, square 8vo, $2.00</i></p> + +<p>"The book has this great advantage over its predecessors, that most of +the games, tricks, and other amusements described in it are new. It +treats of sports adapted to all seasons of the year; it is practical, +and it is well illustrated." + +—<i>The New York Tribune.</i></p> + +<p>"It tells boys how to make all kinds of things—boats, traps, toys, +puzzles, aquariums, fishing tackle; how to tie knots, splice ropes, to +make bird-calls, sleds, blow-guns, balloons; how to rear wild birds, to +train dogs, and do the thousand and one things that boys take delight +in. The book is illustrated in such a way that no mistake can be made." + +—<i>The Indianapolis Journal.</i></p><br /><br /> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/gr86a.jpg" width="200" height="281" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad2">THE AMERICAN GIRL'S HANDY BOOK;</p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>OR, HOW TO AMUSE YOURSELF AND OTHERS</i>.</p> + +<p class="ad4">BY LENA AND ADELIA B. BEARD.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With over 500 Illustrations by the Authors.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, square 8vo, $2.00</i></p> + +<p><i>LOUISA M. ALCOTT WROTE:</i></p> + +<p>"I have put it in my list of good and useful books for young people, as +I have many requests for advice from my little friends and their anxious +mothers. I am most happy to commend your very ingenious and entertaining +book."</p> + +<p><i>GRACE GREENWOOD WROTE:</i></p> + +<p>"It is a treasure which, once possessed, no practical girl would +willingly part with. It is an invaluable aid in making a home +attractive, comfortable, artistic and refined. The book preaches the +gospel of cheerfulness, industry, economy and comfort."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center">"<i>Most delightful.</i>"—<span class="smcap">New York Times.</span></p> + +<p class="ad1"><span class="smcap">Two Little Confederates.</span></p> + +<p class="ad4">BY THOMAS NELSON PAGE.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With Eight full-page Illustrations by E. W. Kemble and A. C. Redwood.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, square 8vo, $1.50.</i></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/gr87.jpg" width="250" height="353" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"<i>There is both humor and pathos in the book, and its literary qualities +are as high as any book for young folks printed since 'Little Lord +Fauntleroy.'</i>" + +—<span class="smcap">Christian Union.</span></p> + +<p>"The story is crisp, fresh and pleasing, and handsomely printed and +aptly illustrated by Kemble and Redwood." + +—<i>Chicago Inter-Ocean.</i></p> + +<p>"A true picture of Virginia life at home during the mighty conflict full +of the pathos and humor of those days." + +—<i>Charleston News and Courier.</i></p> + +<p>"The story is beautifully told, fun and pathos being equally mingled in +its ingenious threads. The book is a handsome octavo and is fully +illustrated." + +—<i>Newark Advertiser.</i></p> + +<p>"It tells the story of two Virginia lads left at home on a plantation +while the men went to fight. The youngsters have many adventures, +serious and humorous, and get into trouble and out of it again. The +story abounds in stirring incidents, and gives a very picturesque view +of home life in Virginia during the rebellion. It is <i>an admirable +juvenile book</i>, teaching an excellent moral of self-reliance." + +—<i>The Boston Saturday Gazette.</i></p> + + +<p class="ad1"><span class="smcap">Little People</span>:</p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>And Their Homes in Meadows, Woods and Waters</i>.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/gr87a.jpg" width="200" height="317" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad4">BY STELLA LOUISE HOOK.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>Beautifully Illustrated by Dan Beard and Harry Beard.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, square 8vo, $1.50.</i></p> + +<p>"<i>A beautifully illustrated volume for young people, in which the +habits, humors, and eccentricities of insects are delightfully +described. The secrets and charms of insect-land are laid open by her +vivacious pen, and the astonishing insects are described in a manner +that makes them personal acquaintances.</i>" + +—<span class="smcap">Cambridge Tribune.</span></p> + +<p>"These stories of real fairies are charmingly written and beautifully +illustrated." + +—<i>Boston Post.</i></p> + +<p>"The author traces the life of the different insects that are familiar +to all. A fascinating narrative." + +—<i>Christian Inquirer.</i></p> + +<p>"A splendid holiday book." + +—<i>Christian at Work.</i></p> + +<p>"The narrative is not only instructive but is made pleasant reading." + +—<i>Boston Journal.</i></p> + +<p>"The author has a true eye, a quick imagination, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>and a fascinating +pen." + +—<i>The Independent.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad2">CHILDREN'S STORIES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE</p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>TALIESIN TO SHAKESPEARE.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4">BY HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One Volume, 12mo, $1.25</i></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/gr88.jpg" width="150" height="269" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Miss Wright's aim in this new volume has been to bring to the attention +of young readers a summary, set forth in simple, attractive language, of +the lives and works of the great men of English Literature. Especial +stress is laid upon popular literature, the old British and Saxon Songs, +the romantic episodes of King Arthur's reign in its relation to +learning, Robin Hood, etc. The book is written in a charmingly winning +style, and is both entertaining and valuable as a first book of English +literature.</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"><p>CONTENTS.—<span class="smcap">Old British Songs; Old Saxon Songs; Cædmon; The +Venerable Bede; King Alfred; The Romance of King Arthur; Robin +Hood; the Hero of the People; Langlande and Gower; Sir John +Mandeville; Geoffrey Chaucer; Wickliffe; Caxton; The Faëry Queen; +Sir Philip Sidney; The Rise of the Drama.</span> </p></div> + +<h2 class="ad2"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</i></h2> + +<p class="ad1">CHILDREN'S STORIES</p> + +<p class="ad2">OF THE GREAT SCIENTISTS.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>With numerous Portraits. 12mo, $1.25</i></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/gr88a.jpg" width="300" height="397" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"The author has succeeded in making her pen pictures of the great +scientists as graphic as the excellent portraits that illustrate the +work. Around each name she has picturesquely grouped the essential +features of scientific achievement." + +—<i>Brooklyn Times.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2">OF AMERICAN PROGRESS.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25</i></p> + +<p>"Miss Wright is favorably known by her volume of well-told 'Stories in +American History,' and her 'Stories of American Progress' is equally +worthy of commendation. Taken together they present a series of pictures +of great graphic interest. The illustrations are excellent." + +—<i>The Nation.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2">IN AMERICAN HISTORY.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25</i></p> + +<p>"A most delightful and instructive collection of historical events, told +in a simple and pleasant manner. Almost every occurrence in the gradual +development of our country is woven into an attractive story for young +people." + +—<i>San Francisco Evening Post.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad1">PERSONALLY CONDUCTED.</p> + +<p class="ad4">BY FRANK R. STOCKTON,</p> + +<p class="smbold center">With Forty-Six Illustrations by Joseph Pennell, Alfred Parsons and others.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, square 8vo, <b>$2.00</b></i></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/gr89.jpg" width="200" height="304" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>A fascinating volume of travel by the famous story-teller, whose route +is outlined with characteristic quaintness in the table of contents +given below. The chapters are a series of pleasant, informal talks with +an imaginary party of young people to whom the author is showing the +curious and interesting sights of the old world;—a fancy that Mr. +Stockton works out with his customary ingenuity and cleverness.</p> + +<p>The two-score and more of illustrations by Joseph Pennell, Alfred +Parsons, and others, enriching the pages with many beautiful old-world +views, give the book a high artistic quality and make it a volume +admirably suited for a holiday gift.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>CONTENTS.—<span class="smcap">The Romans, but not Rome; The City of the Bended Knee; +Little Pisa and Great Rome; Great Rome Again; Around the Bay of +Naples; In Florence and Venice; A Mountain Top, and How we Get +There; Queen Paris; King London; In English Country; The Low +Countries and the Rhine; The People We Meet.</span> </p></div> + +<h6 class="ad4">STOCKTON'S OTHER BOOKS.</h6> + +<p class="ad2"><b>THE STORY OF VITEAU.</b></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>With 16 Full-Page Illustrations by R. B. BIRCH. 12mo, extra Cloth, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>"It is as romantic and absorbing as any boy could wish for, full of +adventure and daring, and yet told in excellent spirit and with a true +literary instinct." + +—<i>Christian Union.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2"><b>A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP.</b></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>With Twenty Illustrations. 12mo, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>"We can think of no book published the present season which will more +delight the wide-awake, adventure-loving boy. It is, to borrow the +adjective from the title, just 'jolly.'" + +—<i>Boston Transcript.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4"><b>The Floating Prince and Other Fairy Tales.</b></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>With Illustrations. Square 8vo, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>"These tales are full of the quaintest conceits and the oddest fancies, +and the strange adventures in which the different characters engage are +just the kind to excite the intense interest of children." + +—<i>Phila. Bulletin.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4"><b>THE TING-A-LING TALES.</b></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>With numerous Illustrations. 12mo, $1.00</i></p> + +<p>"It would be difficult to find anything more dainty, fanciful and +humorous than these tales of magic, fairies, dwarfs and Giants. There is +a vein of satire in them too which adult readers will enjoy." + +—<i>N. Y. Herald.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4"><b>Roundabout Rambles in Lands of Fact and Fiction.</b></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>With 200 Illustrations. Square 8vo, $1.50</i></p> + +<p class="ad4"><b>TALES OUT OF SCHOOL.</b></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>With nearly 200 Illustrations. Square 8vo, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>"The volumes are profusely illustrated and contain the most entertaining +sketches in Mr. Stockton's <i>most entertaining</i> manner." + +—<i>Christian Union.</i></p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/gr90.jpg" width="200" height="299" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad2">THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN MAGO;</p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>OR, A PHŒNICIAN EXPEDITION, B.C. 1000.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4"><span class="smcap">By Léon Cahun.</span></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>With 73 Illustrations. New Edition. One Volume, 8vo, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>Here we have one of those audacious stories which Frenchmen alone seem +to have enough originality to invent. Captain Mago is sent by Hiram King +of Tyre, on a voyage to Tarshish (Spain) to procure a supply of silver +and other treasure with which to embellish the temple of David, King of +the Jews, which was to be erected at Jerusalem. During his absence of +several years, he met with innumerable strange and perilous adventures +by land and sea. In itself the narrative of his exploits is of thrilling +interest, but the real value of the book consists in the graphic and +accurate picture which it gives of the world as it was a thousand years +before the Christian Era. King David, King Solomon, the Queen of Sheba, +and even Homer are among the characters Captain Mago meets in his +journeys and adventures.</p> + + +<p class="ad2"><b>A TALE OF THE INDIAN MUTINY;</b></p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>OR, THE SERPENT-CHARMER.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4">BY LOUIS ROUSSELET.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>New Edition, Fully Illustrated. One Volume, 12mo, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>A book of exciting adventures, the scene being laid in India during the +Mutiny of 1857, and the story describing the fortunes of a Franco-Indian +family.</p> + +<p>"The book, the plot of which appears to be founded on fact, is rather a +boy's book than a novel, and is filled with an uninterrupted series of +wild adventures, told in an agreeable and interesting way." + +—<i>The Nation.</i></p> + +<p>"Besides the interest in the romance, much information is conveyed +concerning Indian manners and customs, as well as delightful +descriptions of the wild country and the animals that abound there." + +—<i>Providence Journal.</i></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/gr90a.jpg" width="200" height="322" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<br /> + +<p class="ad2"><b>WILD MEN AND WILD BEASTS;</b></p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>OR, SCENES IN CAMP AND JUNGLE.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4">BY LIEUT.-COL. GORDON CUMMING.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><i>New Edition, Illustrated. One Volume, 12mo, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>The author of this book is famous for his hunting exploits in Africa and +in Asia. His narrative has an autobiographical basis and contains some +of the most marvelous stories of adventure ever published. Col. Gordon's +accounts of his various expeditions are records of bravery and endurance +seldom paralleled; and the tales of bloodshed are alleviated by pleasant +anecdote—the humors of the camp and chase.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad2">THE BOY'S LIBRARY OF PLUCK AND ACTION.</p> + +<table summary="(layout)" cellspacing="0"> +<tr><td class="smbold">Four volumes, 12mo, in a box, illustrated,</td><td class="smbold right">$5.00</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="smbold">Sold separately, price per volume,</td><td class="smbold right">1.50</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/gr91.jpg" width="420" height="354" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad2"><span class="smcap">A Jolly Fellowship.</span></p> + +<p class="ad6">BY FRANK R. STOCKTON.</p> + +<p class="ad2"><span class="smcap">Hans Brinker;</span></p> + +<p class="ad3">OR, THE SILVER SKATES.</p> + +<p class="ad4">A Story of Life in Holland.</p> + +<p class="ad6">BY MRS. MARY MAPES DODGE.</p> + +<p class="ad2"><span class="smcap">The Boy Emigrants.</span></p> + +<p class="ad6">BY NOAH BROOKS.</p> + +<p class="ad2"><span class="smcap">Phaeton Rogers.</span></p> + +<p class="ad6">BY ROSSITER JOHNSON.</p> + +<p>In the "<i>Boy's Library of Pluck and Action</i>," the design was to bring +together the representative and most popular books of four of the best +known writers for young people. The volumes are beautifully illustrated +and uniformly bound in a most attractive form.</p> + +<p class="ad2"><span class="smcap">Illustrated Library of Travel.</span></p> + +<p class="ad5">BY BAYARD TAYLOR.</p> + +<table summary="(layout)" border="0" cellspacing="0"> +<tr><td class="smbold center">Per set, six volumes, 12mo, $6.00. Each with many illustrations.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="smbold center">Sold separately, per volume, $1.25.</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/gr91a.jpg" width="350" height="264" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>JAPAN IN OUR DAY.<br /> +TRAVELS IN ARABIA.<br /> +TRAVELS IN SOUTH AFRICA.<br /> +CENTRAL ASIA.<br /> +THE LAKE REGION OF CENTRAL AFRICA.<br /> +SIAM, THE LAND OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT.</p> + +<p>Each volume is complete in itself, and contains, first, a brief +preliminary sketch of the country to which it is devoted; next, such an +outline of previous explorations as may be necessary to explain what has +been achieved by later ones; and finally, a condensation of one or more +of the most important narratives of recent travel, accompanied with +illustrations of the scenery, architecture, and life of the races, drawn +only from the most authentic sources.</p> + +<p>"Authenticated accounts of countries, peoples, modes of living and +being, curiosities in natural history, and personal adventure in travels +and explorations, suggest a rich fund of solid instruction combined with +delightful entertainment. The editorship by one of the most observant +and well-travelled men of modern times, at once secures the high +character of the 'Library' in every particular." + +—<i>The Sunday School Times.</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/gr92.jpg" width="150" height="226" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad2">HANS BRINKER; OR, THE SILVER SKATES.</p> + +<p class="ad4"><span class="smcap">A Story of Life in Holland.</span></p> + +<p class="ad4">By MARY MAPES DODGE.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, with sixty beautiful illustrations, $1.50.</b></p> + +<p>"For children, what could be better as a gift than a copy of Mrs. +Dodge's 'Hans Brinker; or, the Silver Skates'? This is one of the most +charming of juvenile stories, dealing with fresh scenes and a strange +life, and told with sweet simplicity and great beauty." + +—<i>The Congregationalist.</i></p> + +<h6> </h6> + +<table summary="(layout)" border="0" cellspacing="10"> +<tr><td> + +<p class="ad2">RHYMES AND JINGLES.</p> + +<p class="ad4">By Mrs. MARY MAPES DODGE.</p> + +<p class="ad5"><span class="smcap">Editor of "St. Nicholas."</span></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>Profusely illustrated.</i></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One vol., 12mo. New edition, $1.50</b></p> + +<p>Mrs. Dodge's "Rhymes and Jingles" is a collection of her child's +poems—a department of literature in which she has no equal. Some of +these poems have been pronounced "without rivals in our language."</p> + +<p class="ad2">PRINCE PEERLESS.</p> + +<p class="ad4"><span class="smcap">A Fairy Folk Story Book.</span></p> + +<p class="ad4">By MARGARET COLLIER.</p> + +<p class="ad5">(Madame Gelletti Di Cadilhac).</p> + +<p class="ad6">ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN COLLIER.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, $1.25</b></p> + +<p>"More admirable and fascinating a fairy story book we have not lately +set eyes upon. The stories are most airily conceived and most gracefully +executed." + +—<i>The Hartford Post.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2">PHAETON ROGERS.</p> + +<p class="ad4">A NOVEL OF BOY LIFE.</p> + +<p class="ad4">By ROSSITER JOHNSON.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>Illustrated.</i></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, $1.50</b></p> + +<p>"One of the funniest, liveliest juvenile stories of the year is 'Phaeton +Rogers,' by Rossiter Johnson. The writer shows as much ingenuity in +inventing comical adventures and situations as Phaeton does with his +kite-teams, fire ladders, and comets." + +—<i>The Holyoke Transcript.</i></p> + +</td><td> + +<p class="ad2">THE BOY EMIGRANTS.</p> + +<p class="ad4">By NOAH BROOKS.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>Illustrated.</i></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, $1.50</b></p> + +<p>"It is one of the best boy's stories we have ever read. There is nothing +morbid or unhealthy about it. His heroes are thorough boys, with all the +faults of their age." + +—<i>The Christian at Work.</i></p> + +<br /> + +<p class="ad2">THE FAIRPORT NINE.</p> + +<p class="ad4">By NOAH BROOKS.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, $1.25</b></p> + +<p>"As a thoroughly wholesome and delightful book for boys, 'The Fairport +Nine' is not likely to have its superior this season." + +—<i>The N. Y. Evening Mail.</i></p> + +<br /> + +<p class="ad2">ABOUT OLD STORY TELLERS.</p> + +<p class="ad4">OF HOW AND WHEN THEY LIVED, AND WHAT STORIES THEY TOLD.</p> + +<p class="ad4">By DONALD G. MITCHELL.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>With numerous illustrations.</i></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, $1.25</b></p> + +<p>"'About Old Story Tellers' is made up of the best of the old stories, +gathered from all sources, re-told in Mr. Mitchell's inimitable manner, +and interwoven with lively sketches of the original writers and the +times in which they flourished." + +—<i>The New Haven Journal and Courier.</i> </p> + +</td></tr></table> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad2l"><span class="smcap">Heroes of the Olden Time.</span></p> + +<p class="ad4">By JAMES BALDWIN.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>Three vols., 12mo, each beautifully illustrated, Singly, $1.50; The Set, $4.00.</i></p> + +<p>In these three volumes, Mr. Baldwin presents in consecutive narrative +forms the Legends relating to the Trojan War, the great Siegfried myth +of Northern Europe, and the mediæval romance of Roland and Charlemange; +bringing before the reader, with great spirit, with scholarly accuracy +and with unfailing taste these heroic figures and the times in which +their adventures are supposed to have occurred.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/gr93.jpg" width="350" height="697" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="ad2"><b>A STORY OF THE GOLDEN AGE.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6">With a series of superb Full-page Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Howard Pyle</span>.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, $1.50.</b></p> + +<p>"Mr. Baldwin's book is redolent with the spirit of the Odyssey, that +glorious primitive epic, fresh with the dew of the morning of time. It +is an unalloyed pleasure to read his recital of the adventures of the +wily Odysseus, slightly expurgated though it be, and adapted for the +intelligence of youthful minds. Howard Pyle's illustrations render the +spirit of the Homeric age with admirable felicity." + +—<i>Prof. H. H. Boyesen.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. Baldwin's work here as in 'Siegfried' and 'Roland' is of +exceptional merit, and is to be classed with the 'Tanglewood Tales' of +Hawthorne rather than with the average story for the young. Mr. Pyle has +furnished the volume with a dozen drawings of great artistic excellence +and of genuinely illustrative character." + +—<i>The Providence Journal.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2"><b>THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6">With a series of Full-page Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Howard Pyle</span>.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, $1.50.</b></p> + +<p>"It is told with spirit and is beautifully illustrated." + +—<i>The New York Sun.</i></p> + +<p>"'The Story of Siegfried' is charmingly told. The author makes up the +story from the various myths in a fascinating way which cannot fail to +interest the reader. It is as enjoyable as any fairy tale. The writer's +style is simple and very attractive, and the book is in every way an +excellent one for young readers." + +—<i>The Hartford Courant.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2"><b>THE STORY OF ROLAND.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6">With a Series of Full-page Illustrations by <span class="smcap">R. B. Birch</span>.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>One volume, 12mo, $1.50.</b></p> + +<p>"Finely written, beautifully bound and excellently illustrated, it is a +charming gift-book for either a boy or a girl." + +—<i>The Critic.</i></p> + +<p>"The old romance is thus told in English for the first time in a +connected form, and is admirably told in the true spirit of chivalry." + +—<i>The Boston Traveler.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. Baldwin has culled from a wide range of epics, French, Italian and +German, and has once more proved his aptitude as a story teller for the +young, while conveying information for which many of their elders will +be thankful." + +—<i>The Nation.</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad2">THE BLACK ARROW.</p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>A TALE OF THE TWO ROSES</i>.</p> + +<p class="ad4">BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With 12 full-page Illustrations by Will H. Low and Alfred Brennan.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, 12mo, ... paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00.</i></p> + +<p>"We have devoured the book at a sitting; and were the question to arise +which of the author's two books, 'Treasure Island' or 'The Black Arrow,' +should be preserved, if only one of them could escape destruction, we +should hesitate not a moment to cry out for 'The Black Arrow.' It has +all the charm of the other book and something more." + +—<i>The Critic.</i></p> + +<p>"The Black Arrows are a kind of Robin Hoods, who forgather in the +greenwood, kill the King's venison, waylay the King's subjects, and +exercise a simple and primitive injustice by killing everybody in any +way connected with the objects of their special animosity. Mr. Stevenson +has made a striking series of dramatic pictures. The action is vigorous +and incessant. The lawless condition of the time is kept in evidence. +Everybody is fighting or flying, plotting or baffling plots, doing or +hindering overt wrong. The tale sweeps on to its close with plenty of +elan." + +—<i>The New York Tribune.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2">KIDNAPPED.</p> + +<p class="ad5"><i>Being Memoirs of the Adventures of David Balfour in the Year 1751.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4">BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, 12mo, ... paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00.</i></p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With 16 full-page Illustrations, $1.25.</b></p> + +<p>"Mr. Stevenson has never appeared to greater advantage than in +'Kidnapped.'" + +—<i>The Nation.</i></p> + +<p>"He brings back old chivalries and piracies, and talks to the boyhood of +to-day of shipwrecks and highwaymen, as if these venerable objects of +worship had not been superseded long ago by mercantile heroes and +dollar-coining newsboys." + +—<i>The Atlantic Monthly.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2">A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES.</p> + +<p class="ad4">BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, 12mo, gilt top, $1.00.</i></p> + +<p>"These verses are simply exquisite. They are the child's thought in the +child's language, and yet altogether, poetical. We do not know anything +in the whole range of English literature to equal them in their own +peculiar charm. There is a subtle beauty in them which is indescribable +and unequalled." + +—<i>The Churchman.</i></p> + +<table summary="(layout)" border="0" cellspacing="10"> +<tr><td> + +<p class="ad2">POETRY FOR CHILDREN.</p> + +<p class="ad4"><span class="smcap">By Mary and Charles Lamb.</span></p> + +<p>With Prince Dorus and Some Uncollected +Poems by <span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span>. Edited by +<span class="smcap">R. H. Shepherd</span>. 16mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p>"The book will be very welcome to thousands of admirers and lovers of +Charles Lamb. The verses are certainly far superior to most of the poems +written for the young." + +—<i>Springfield Republican.</i></p> + +</td><td> + +<p class="ad2">SERMONS FOR CHILDREN.</p> + +<p>Preached in Westminster Abbey. By <span class="smcap">Arthur Penrhyn Stanley</span>, late Dean of Westminster. 12mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p>"They are simple, beautiful, and forcible in the presentation of +practical religious truth, and no intelligent child can begin the +perusal of one of them without finishing it and deriving wholesome and +lasting impressions from it." + +—<i>The Interior.</i></p> + +</td></tr></table> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad2l"><span class="smcap">Marvels of Animal Life Series.</span></p> + +<p class="ad4">By CHARLES F. HOLDER.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>Three vols., 8vo, each profusely illustrated, Singly, $1.75; The Set, $5.00.</i></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/gr95.jpg" width="250" height="264" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The marvellously strange forms of animal life that exist or have existed +in the earth, air or sea, supply Mr. Holder with a theme of entrancing +interest for every boy. The style is popular; there is a mass of +accurate information, much of which is based upon the personal +observation of the author and the illustrations are numerous and of +substantial help to the reader.</p> + +<p class="ad2">LIVING LIGHTS.</p> + +<p class="ad4">A POPULAR ACCOUNT OF PHOSPHORESCENT ANIMALS AND VEGETABLES.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With 27 Full-page Illustrations, $1.75.</b></p> + +<p>"We have read more books of the class of the one before us than we can +remember, but none that has attracted us so much as this thick little +quarto. There is a world of entertainment in Mr. Holder's book." + +—<i>R. H. Stoddard.</i></p> + +<p>"A very curious branch of natural history is expounded in most agreeable +style by this delightful book. Mr. Holder furnishes a great mass of +information concerning fire-flies, luminous beetles and other insects, +the phosphorescent animals and animalculæ of the sea, and even of plants +and flowers that give light. He has revealed a world of new wonders to +those who are inquisitive about certain mysteries of great interest, +concerning which no other naturalist has written." + +—<i>The Philadelphia Bulletin.</i></p> + +<h6> </h6> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/gr95a.jpg" width="300" height="395" alt="" title="" /> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> + +<p class="ad2">MARVELS OF ANIMAL LIFE.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With 24 Full-page Illustrations,—$1.75.</b></p> + +<p>"Mr. Holder combines his descriptions of these odd creatures with +stories of his own adventures in pursuit of them in many parts of the +world. These are told with much spirit and humor, and add greatly to the +fascination of the book." + +—<i>The Worcester Spy.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2">THE IVORY KING.</p> + +<p class="ad4">A POPULAR HISTORY OF THE ELEPHANT AND ITS ALLIES.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With 24 Full-page Illustrations,—$1.75.</b></p> + +<p>"The author also talks in a lively and pleasant way about white +elephants, rogue elephants, baby elephants, trick elephants, of the +elephant in war, pageantry, sports and games. A charming accession to +books for young people." + +—<i>The Chicago Interior.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad2l">THE BOY'S<br /> +LIBRARY OF LEGEND & CHIVALRY</p> + +<p class="ad4">EDITED BY SIDNEY LANIER,</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>And Richly Illustrated by Fredericks, Bensell, and Kappes.</i></p> + +<table summary="layout" border="0" cellspacing="0"> +<tr><td class="smbold">Four volumes, cloth, uniform binding, price, per set,</td><td class="smbold right">$7.00.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="smbold">Sold separately, price, per volume,</td><td class="smbold right">$2.00.</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/gr96.jpg" width="300" height="611" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Lanier's books, in which he presents to boy readers the old English +classics of history and legend in such attractive form, are now issued +in four uniform volumes, well made and well illustrated. While they are +stories of action and stirring incident, which make them extremely +exciting, they teach those lessons which manly, honest boys ought to +learn. The oath of the young fourteenth century knight made him vow to +speak the truth, to perform a promise to the utmost, to reverence all +women to maintain right and honesty, to help the weak, to treat high and +low with courtesy, to be fair to a bitter foe, and to pursue simplicity, +modesty and gentleness of heart and bearing; and the nineteenth century +knight is he who takes the same oath of fidelity to truth, honesty and +purity of heart. The illustrations are full of fire and spirit, and add +very much to one's enjoyment of the book.</p> + +<p class="ad3">THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><span class="smcap">Being Sir Thomas Mallory's +History of King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table.</span></p> + +<p class="ad3">THE BOY'S FROISSART.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><span class="smcap">Being Sir John Froissart's Chronicles of Adventure, +Battle, and Custom in England, France, Spain, Etc.</span></p> + +<p class="ad3">THE BOY'S PERCY.</p> + +<p class="ad3">THE KNIGHTLY LEGENDS OF WALES;</p> + +<p class="ad4">OR, THE BOY'S MABINOGION.</p> + +<p>"Amid all the strange and fanciful scenery of these stories, character +and the ideals of character remain at the simplest and purest. The +romantic history transpires in the healthy atmosphere of the open air on +the green earth beneath the open sky. * * * The figures of Right, Truth, +Justice, Honor, Purity, Courage, Reverence for Law, are always in the +background; and the grand passion inspired by the book is for strength +to do well and nobly in the world." + +—<i>The Independent.</i></p> + +<p>"It is quite the beau ideal of a book for a present to an intelligent +boy or girl." + +—<i>Baltimore Gazette.</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad2l"><span class="smcap">Stanley's Great African Story for Boys.</span></p> + +<p class="ad2">MY KALULU.</p> + +<p class="ad4"><i>PRINCE, KING AND SLAVE. A STORY OF CENTRAL AFRICA.</i></p> + +<p class="ad5">BY HENRY M. STANLEY.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, 12mo, New Edition, with many Illustrations, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>Mr. Stanley's African romance for boys is based upon knowledge acquired +during his journey in search of Dr. Livingstone, which began in 1871 and +ended in 1872. It is a fascinating story of strange scenes, incidents +and adventures among the tribes of Central Africa, and of encounters +with the wild animals that make their home there. One feature of the +book is its vivid description of the evils of the slave trade. The +popularity of the story was great, and as it has been out of print, the +publishers have issued a new and cheaper edition, which will no doubt +meet with the same hearty reception accorded to the first.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 750px;"> +<img src="images/gr97.jpg" width="750" height="602" alt=""YOUNG KALULU IS HERE!"" title=""YOUNG KALULU IS HERE!"" /> +<span class="caption">"YOUNG KALULU IS HERE!"</span> +</div> + +<p>"A fresh, breezy, stirring story for youths, interesting in itself and +full of information regarding life in the interior of the continent in +which its scenes are laid." + +—<i>The New York Times.</i></p> + +<p>"If the young reader is fond of strange adventures, he will find enough +in this volume to delight him all winter, and he will be hard to please +who is not charmed by its graphic pages." + +—<i>The Boston Journal.</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ad2">OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND.</p> + +<p class="ad4">WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY HOWARD PYLE.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With Twenty-five Full-Page and many other Illustrations.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, royal 8vo, half leather, $2.00</i></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/gr98.jpg" width="250" height="324" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"The scene of the story is mediæval Germany in the time of feuds and +robber barons and romance. The kidnapping of Otto, his adventures among +rough soldiers, and his daring rescue, make up a spirited and thrilling +story. The drawings are in keeping with the text, and in mechanical and +artistic qualities as well as in literary execution the book must be +greeted as one of the very best juveniles of the year, quite worthy to +succeed to the remarkable popularity of Mr. Pyle's 'Robin Hood.'" + +—<i>Christian Union.</i></p> + +<p>"Told with vividness and uncommon spirit." + +—<i>Troy Press.</i></p> + +<p>"Far above the common run of juvenile tales." + +—<i>Pittsburg Post.</i></p> + +<p>"Handsome and attractive in every respect." + +—<i>New York Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"An addition of the highest character to juvenile literature." + +—<i>Boston Times.</i></p> + +<p>"The decorative head and tail pieces, etc., add much to the +embellishment and rich holiday appearance of the book." + +—<i>Portland Argus.</i></p> + +<p>"Far above the average quality of stories for the young. Mr. Pyle is +seen in his most brilliant light in both the text and illustrations. The +volume is a handsome specimen of a holiday book." + +—<i>Boston Saturday Gazette.</i></p> + +<p class="ad2">THE MERRY ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD</p> + +<p class="ad4">OF GREAT RENOWN IN NOTTINGHAMSHIRE.</p> + +<p class="ad5">WRITTEN AND ELABORATELY ILLUSTRATED BY HOWARD PYLE.</p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, royal 8vo, $3.00</i></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/gr98a.jpg" width="400" height="234" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"A superb book." + +—<i>Chicago Inter-Ocean.</i></p> + +<p>"A very original work." + +—<i>Boston Post.</i></p> + +<p>"A captivating book." + +—<i>London Daily News.</i></p> + +<p>"An excellent piece of literary, artistic and mechanical work." + +—<i>Louisville Commercial.</i></p> + +<p>"This superb book is unquestionably the most original and elaborate ever +produced by any American artist. Mr. Pyle has told, with pencil and pen, +the complete and consecutive story of Robin Hood and his merry men in +their haunts in Sherwood Forest, gathered from the old ballads and +legends. Mr. Pyle's admirable illustrations are strewn profusely through +the book." + +—<i>Boston Transcript.</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2 class="ad2l"><span class="smcap">Against Heavy Odds.</span></h2> + +<p class="ad4"><i>A TALE OF NORSE HEROISM.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4">BY HJALMAR HJORTH BOYESEN.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With 13 full-page Illustrations by W. L. Taylor.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, 12mo, $1.00</i></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/gr99.jpg" width="400" height="339" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The narrative of how the indomitable pluck and perseverance of Ingomar +Vang, the young Norwegian inventor and whaler, enabled him to triumph +against heavy odds will stir the blood in every boy's veins. The tragic +fate of Prebensen, the rich, cruel and selfish oppressor of everyone in +the little northern whaling village, is pictured with much dramatic +force. A healthy, honest, manly tone pervades this story of a young +man's trials and final successes. The illustrations are in Mr. Taylor's +best style, full of character and color, and faultlessly drawn.</p> + +<h2 class="ad2l"><span class="smcap">The Modern Vikings:</span></h2> + +<p class="ad4"><i>STORIES OF LIFE AND SPORT IN THE NORSELAND.</i></p> + +<p class="ad4">BY HJALMAR H. BOYESEN.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With many full-page Illustrations.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, 12mo, $2.00</i></p> + +<p>"About Professor Boyesen's writings there is a freshness which, while it +retains the Norse flavor of Andersen, is modern rather than antiquely +quaint. One readily recognizes the fact that the author is a Norseman +reciting in English the tales and legends of his land, and not +addressing the children of his own country in their own language. Every +page is full of vigor and spirit. The boys and girls are not myths, but +are full of life and action. While the stories are addressed to the +young, their character is such that older people will not fail to be +interested in them." + +—<i>The Boston Advertiser.</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2 class="ad2l"><span class="smcap">Bric-a-Brac Stories.</span></h2> + +<p class="ad4">BY MRS. BURTON HARRISON.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/gr100.jpg" width="350" height="531" alt="Specimen Illustration, Reduced." title="Specimen Illustration, Reduced." /> +<span class="caption"><i>Specimen Illustration, Reduced.</i></span> +</div> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With 24 full-page Illustrations by Walter Crane.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, 12mo, new and cheaper edition, $1.50</i></p> + +<p>"It would be difficult to find a more delightful collection of fairy +tales. The children who are fortunate enough to possess 'Bric-a-Brac +Stories' will pass their holidays as pleasantly and as profitably as +Rigi passed his. The book is illustrated with twenty-four fascinating +drawings by Walter Crane." + +—<i>Boston Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"When the little boy, for whose benefit the various articles of +bric-a-brac in his father's drawing room relate stories appropriate to +their several native countries, exclaims, at the conclusion of one of +them: 'I almost think there can't be a better one than that!' the +reader, of whatever age, will probably feel inclined to agree with him. +Upon the whole, it is to be wished that every boy and girl in America, +or anywhere else, might become intimately acquainted with the contents +of this book. There is more virtue in one of these stories than in the +entire library of modern juvenile literature." + +—<i>Julian Hawthorne.</i></p> + +<h2 class="ad2l"><span class="smcap">The Old-Fashioned Fairy Book.</span></h2> + +<p class="ad4">BY MRS. BURTON HARRISON.</p> + +<p class="smbold center"><b>With many Quaint Illustrations by Miss Rosina Emmet.</b></p> + +<p class="ad6"><i>One volume, square 16mo, $1.25</i></p> + +<p>"The little ones, who so willingly go back with us to 'Jack the +Giant-Killer,' 'Bluebeard,' and the kindred stories of our childhood, +will gladly welcome Mrs. Burton Harrison's 'Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales,' +where the giant, the dwarf, the fairy, the wicked princess, the ogre, +the metamorphosed prince, and all the heroes of that line come into play +and action. As they read the stories which compose this book they will +meet with all the familiar actors of the fairy world in different scenes +indeed, and with new deeds of daring, witchcraft, or charming +benevolence, but still the same characters of the old-fashioned fairy +lore. The graceful pencil of Miss Rosina Emmet has given a pictorial +interest to the book, and the many pictures scattered through its pages +accord well with the good old-fashioned character of the tales." + +—<i>Frank R Stockton.</i></p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<div class="trnote"> +<h2>Transcriber's Note</h2> + +<pre> +The advert ("BY THE SAME AUTHOR") was originally at the +front of the book, but has been moved to the end. + +The fourth illustration appears on page 49, not 47. The List of +Illustrations has been accordingly corrected. + +The following typographical corrections have been made: + +(<a href="#Page_63">Page 63</a>) Quotation mark added to the end of the illustration caption. +(<a href="#Page_85">Page 85</a>) "dêvote" changed to "dévote". +(<a href="#Page_85">Page 85</a>) Quotation mark added after "episode is over." +(<a href="#Page_96">Page 96</a>) Changed a semi-colon to a comma after "Courage". + +(<a href="#Page_39">Page 39</a>) "thought 'd ask you" is as originally printed. +</pre> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +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 24772-h.htm or 24772-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/7/7/24772/ + +Produced by Colin Bell, Andrew Wainwright, Joseph Cooper +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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