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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  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: A Little Princess
+       Being the whole story of Sara Crewe now told for the first time
+
+Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
+Illustrator: Ethel Franklin Betts
+
+Release Date: September 7, 2011 [EBook #37332]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE PRINCESS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, eagkw and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "I am _not_--I am _not_ dreaming!"]
+
+
+
+
+  A
+  LITTLE PRINCESS
+
+  BEING THE WHOLE STORY OF SARA CREWE
+  NOW TOLD FOR THE FIRST TIME
+
+  BY
+  FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
+
+  WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLORS BY
+  ETHEL FRANKLIN BETTS
+
+  CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+  NEW YORK . . . . . 1937
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1888 AND 1905, BY
+  CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
+  FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
+
+  Printed in the United States of America
+
+  _All rights reserved. No part of this book
+  may be reproduced in any form without
+  the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons_
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_THE WHOLE OF THE STORY_
+
+
+_I do not know whether many people realize how much more than is ever
+written there really is in a story--how many parts of it are never
+told--how much more really happened than there is in the book one holds
+in one's hand and pores over. Stories are something like letters. When a
+letter is written, how often one remembers things omitted and says, "Ah,
+why did I not tell them that?" In writing a book one relates all that
+one remembers at the time, and if one told all that really happened
+perhaps the book would never end. Between the lines of every story there
+is another story, and that is one that is never heard and can only be
+guessed at by the people who are good at guessing. The person who writes
+the story may never know all of it, but sometimes he does and wishes he
+had the chance to begin again._
+
+_When I wrote the story of "Sara Crewe" I guessed that a great deal
+more had happened at Miss Minchin's than I had had time to find out
+just then. I knew, of course, that there must have been chapters full
+of things going on all the time; and when I began to make a play out
+of the book and called it "A Little Princess," I discovered three acts
+full of things. What interested me most was that I found that there
+had been girls at the school whose names I had not even known before.
+There was a little girl whose name was Lottie, who was an amusing
+little person; there was a hungry scullery-maid who was Sara's adoring
+friend; Ermengarde was much more entertaining than she had seemed at
+first; things happened in the garret which had never been hinted at in
+the book; and a certain gentleman whose name was Melchisedec was an
+intimate friend of Sara's who should never have been left out of the
+story if he had only walked into it in time. He and Becky and Lottie
+lived at Miss Minchin's, and I cannot understand why they did not
+mention themselves to me at first. They were as real as Sara, and it
+was careless of them not to come out of the story shadowland and say,
+"Here I am--tell about me." But they did not--which was their fault
+and not mine. People who live in the story one is writing ought to
+come forward at the beginning and tap the writing person on the
+shoulder and say, "Hallo, what about me?" If they don't, no one can
+be blamed but themselves and their slouching, idle ways._
+
+_After the play of "A Little Princess" was produced in New York, and so
+many children went to see it and liked Becky and Lottie and Melchisedec,
+my publishers asked me if I could not write Sara's story over again and
+put into it all the things and people who had been left out before, and
+so I have done it; and when I began I found there were actually pages
+and pages of things which had happened that had never been put even into
+the play, so in this new "Little Princess" I have put all I have been
+able to discover._
+
+                                      _FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                               PAGE
+
+      I  SARA                              3
+
+     II  A FRENCH LESSON                  16
+
+    III  ERMENGARDE                       24
+
+     IV  LOTTIE                           34
+
+      V  BECKY                            45
+
+     VI  THE DIAMOND-MINES                58
+
+    VII  THE DIAMOND-MINES AGAIN          72
+
+   VIII  IN THE ATTIC                     97
+
+     IX  MELCHISEDEC                     110
+
+      X  THE INDIAN GENTLEMAN            124
+
+     XI  RAM DASS                        139
+
+    XII  THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL      151
+
+   XIII  ONE OF THE POPULACE             162
+
+    XIV  WHAT MELCHISEDEC HEARD AND SAW  175
+
+     XV  THE MAGIC                       182
+
+    XVI  THE VISITOR                     213
+
+   XVII  "IT IS THE CHILD!"              233
+
+  XVIII  "I TRIED NOT TO BE"             243
+
+    XIX  "ANNE"                          258
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+  "I am _not_--I am _not_ dreaming!"                     _Frontispiece_
+
+  She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of eyes watching her  16
+
+  More than once she had been known to have a tea-party              38
+
+  The children crowded clamoring around her                          76
+
+  She seldom cried. She did not cry now                              94
+
+  The sparrows twittered and hopped about quite without fear        112
+
+  The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner                168
+
+  She sat down and held him on her knee                             230
+
+  Noticed that his companion ... sat gazing into the fire           260
+
+
+
+
+A LITTLE PRINCESS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+SARA
+
+
+Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and
+heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop
+windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl
+sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the
+big thoroughfares.
+
+She sat with her feet tucked under her, and leaned against her father,
+who held her in his arm, as she stared out of the window at the passing
+people with a queer old-fashioned thoughtfulness in her big eyes.
+
+She was such a little girl that one did not expect to see such a look on
+her small face. It would have been an old look for a child of twelve,
+and Sara Crewe was only seven. The fact was, however, that she was
+always dreaming and thinking odd things and could not herself remember
+any time when she had not been thinking things about grown-up people and
+the world they belonged to. She felt as if she had lived a long, long
+time.
+
+At this moment she was remembering the voyage she had just made from
+Bombay with her father, Captain Crewe. She was thinking of the big
+ship, of the Lascars passing silently to and fro on it, of the children
+playing about on the hot deck, and of some young officers' wives who
+used to try to make her talk to them and laugh at the things she said.
+
+Principally, she was thinking of what a queer thing it was that at one
+time one was in India in the blazing sun, and then in the middle of the
+ocean, and then driving in a strange vehicle through strange streets
+where the day was as dark as the night. She found this so puzzling that
+she moved closer to her father.
+
+"Papa," she said in a low, mysterious little voice which was almost a
+whisper, "papa."
+
+"What is it, darling?" Captain Crewe answered, holding her closer and
+looking down into her face. "What is Sara thinking of?"
+
+"Is this the place?" Sara whispered, cuddling still closer to him. "Is
+it, papa?"
+
+"Yes, little Sara, it is. We have reached it at last." And though she
+was only seven years old, she knew that he felt sad when he said it.
+
+It seemed to her many years since he had begun to prepare her mind for
+"the place," as she always called it. Her mother had died when she was
+born, so she had never known or missed her. Her young, handsome, rich,
+petting father seemed to be the only relation she had in the world. They
+had always played together and been fond of each other. She only knew he
+was rich because she had heard people say so when they thought she was
+not listening, and she had also heard them say that when she grew up she
+would be rich, too. She did not know all that being rich meant. She had
+always lived in a beautiful bungalow, and had been used to seeing many
+servants who made salaams to her and called her "Missee Sahib," and gave
+her her own way in everything. She had had toys and pets and an ayah who
+worshipped her, and she had gradually learned that people who were rich
+had these things. That, however, was all she knew about it.
+
+During her short life only one thing had troubled her, and that thing
+was "the place" she was to be taken to some day. The climate of India
+was very bad for children, and as soon as possible they were sent away
+from it--generally to England and to school. She had seen other children
+go away, and had heard their fathers and mothers talk about the letters
+they received from them. She had known that she would be obliged to go
+also, and though sometimes her father's stories of the voyage and the
+new country had attracted her, she had been troubled by the thought that
+he could not stay with her.
+
+"Couldn't you go to that place with me, papa?" she had asked when she
+was five years old. "Couldn't you go to school, too? I would help you
+with your lessons."
+
+"But you will not have to stay for a very long time, little Sara," he
+had always said. "You will go to a nice house where there will be a lot
+of little girls, and you will play together, and I will send you plenty
+of books, and you will grow so fast that it will seem scarcely a year
+before you are big enough and clever enough to come back and take care
+of papa."
+
+She had liked to think of that. To keep the house for her father;
+to ride with him, and sit at the head of his table when he had
+dinner-parties; to talk to him and read his books--that would be what
+she would like most in the world, and if one must go away to "the place"
+in England to attain it, she must make up her mind to go. She did not
+care very much for other little girls, but if she had plenty of books
+she could console herself. She liked books more than anything else, and
+was, in fact, always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling
+them to herself. Sometimes she had told them to her father, and he had
+liked them as much as she did.
+
+"Well, papa," she said softly, "if we are here I suppose we must be
+resigned."
+
+He laughed at her old-fashioned speech and kissed her. He was really not
+at all resigned himself, though he knew he must keep that a secret. His
+quaint little Sara had been a great companion to him, and he felt he
+should be a lonely fellow when, on his return to India, he went into his
+bungalow knowing he need not expect to see the small figure in its white
+frock come forward to meet him. So he held her very closely in his arm
+as the cab rolled into the big, dull square in which stood the house
+which was their destination.
+
+It was a big, dull, brick house, exactly like all the others in its row,
+but that on the front door there shone a brass plate on which was
+engraved in black letters:
+
+                           MISS MINCHIN,
+                  Select Seminary for Young Ladies.
+
+"Here we are, Sara," said Captain Crewe, making his voice sound as
+cheerful as possible. Then he lifted her out of the cab and they mounted
+the steps and rang the bell. Sara often thought afterward that the house
+was somehow exactly like Miss Minchin. It was respectable and well
+furnished, but everything in it was ugly; and the very arm-chairs
+seemed to have hard bones in them. In the hall everything was hard and
+polished--even the red cheeks of the moon face on the tall clock in the
+corner had a severe varnished look. The drawing-room into which they
+were ushered was covered by a carpet with a square pattern upon it, the
+chairs were square, and a heavy marble timepiece stood upon the heavy
+marble mantel.
+
+As she sat down in one of the stiff mahogany chairs, Sara cast one of
+her quick looks about her.
+
+"I don't like it, papa," she said. "But then I dare say soldiers--even
+brave ones--don't really _like_ going into battle."
+
+Captain Crewe laughed outright at this. He was young and full of fun,
+and he never tired of hearing Sara's queer speeches.
+
+"Oh, little Sara," he said. "What shall I do when I have no one to say
+solemn things to me? No one else is quite as solemn as you are."
+
+"But why do solemn things make you laugh so?" inquired Sara.
+
+"Because you are such fun when you say them," he answered, laughing
+still more. And then suddenly he swept her into his arms and kissed her
+very hard, stopping laughing all at once and looking almost as if tears
+had come into his eyes.
+
+It was just then that Miss Minchin entered the room. She was very like
+her house, Sara felt: tall and dull, and respectable and ugly. She had
+large, cold, fishy eyes, and a large, cold, fishy smile. It spread
+itself into a very large smile when she saw Sara and Captain Crewe. She
+had heard a great many desirable things of the young soldier from the
+lady who had recommended her school to him. Among other things, she had
+heard that he was a rich father who was willing to spend a great deal of
+money on his little daughter.
+
+"It will be a great privilege to have charge of such a beautiful and
+promising child, Captain Crewe," she said, taking Sara's hand and
+stroking it. "Lady Meredith has told me of her unusual cleverness. A
+clever child is a great treasure in an establishment like mine."
+
+Sara stood quietly, with her eyes fixed upon Miss Minchin's face. She
+was thinking something odd, as usual.
+
+"Why does she say I am a beautiful child," she was thinking. "I am not
+beautiful at all. Colonel Grange's little girl, Isobel, is beautiful.
+She has dimples and rose-colored cheeks, and long hair the color of
+gold. I have short black hair and green eyes; besides which, I am a thin
+child and not fair in the least. I am one of the ugliest children I ever
+saw. She is beginning by telling a story."
+
+She was mistaken, however, in thinking she was an ugly child. She was
+not in the least like Isobel Grange, who had been the beauty of the
+regiment, but she had an odd charm of her own. She was a slim, supple
+creature, rather tall for her age, and had an intense, attractive little
+face. Her hair was heavy and quite black and only curled at the tips;
+her eyes were greenish gray, it is true, but they were big, wonderful
+eyes with long, black lashes, and though she herself did not like the
+color of them, many other people did. Still she was very firm in her
+belief that she was an ugly little girl, and she was not at all elated
+by Miss Minchin's flattery.
+
+"I should be telling a story if I said she was beautiful," she thought;
+"and I should know I was telling a story. I believe I am as ugly as she
+is--in my way. What did she say that for?"
+
+After she had known Miss Minchin longer she learned why she had said it.
+She discovered that she said the same thing to each papa and mamma who
+brought a child to her school.
+
+Sara stood near her father and listened while he and Miss Minchin
+talked. She had been brought to the seminary because Lady Meredith's two
+little girls had been educated there, and Captain Crewe had a great
+respect for Lady Meredith's experience. Sara was to be what was known as
+"a parlor-boarder," and she was to enjoy even greater privileges than
+parlor-boarders usually did. She was to have a pretty bedroom and
+sitting-room of her own; she was to have a pony and a carriage, and a
+maid to take the place of the ayah who had been her nurse in India.
+
+"I am not in the least anxious about her education," Captain Crewe
+said, with his gay laugh, as he held Sara's hand and patted it. "The
+difficulty will be to keep her from learning too fast and too much. She
+is always sitting with her little nose burrowing into books. She doesn't
+read them, Miss Minchin; she gobbles them up as if she were a little
+wolf instead of a little girl. She is always starving for new books to
+gobble, and she wants grown-up books--great, big, fat ones--French and
+German as well as English--history and biography and poets, and all
+sorts of things. Drag her away from her books when she reads too much.
+Make her ride her pony in the Row or go out and buy a new doll. She
+ought to play more with dolls."
+
+"Papa," said Sara. "You see, if I went out and bought a new doll every
+few days I should have more than I could be fond of. Dolls ought to be
+intimate friends. Emily is going to be my intimate friend."
+
+Captain Crewe looked at Miss Minchin and Miss Minchin looked at Captain
+Crewe.
+
+"Who is Emily?" she inquired.
+
+"Tell her, Sara," Captain Crewe said, smiling.
+
+Sara's green-gray eyes looked very solemn and quite soft as she
+answered.
+
+"She is a doll I haven't got yet," she said. "She is a doll papa is
+going to buy for me. We are going out together to find her. I have
+called her Emily. She is going to be my friend when papa is gone. I want
+her to talk to about him."
+
+Miss Minchin's large, fishy smile became very flattering indeed.
+
+"What an original child!" she said. "What a darling little creature!"
+
+"Yes," said Captain Crewe, drawing Sara close. "She is a darling little
+creature. Take great care of her for me, Miss Minchin."
+
+Sara stayed with her father at his hotel for several days; in fact, she
+remained with him until he sailed away again to India. They went out and
+visited many big shops together, and bought a great many things. They
+bought, indeed, a great many more things than Sara needed; but Captain
+Crewe was a rash, innocent young man and wanted his little girl to have
+everything she admired and everything he admired himself, so between
+them they collected a wardrobe much too grand for a child of seven.
+There were velvet dresses trimmed with costly furs, and lace dresses,
+and embroidered ones, and hats with great, soft ostrich feathers, and
+ermine coats and muffs, and boxes of tiny gloves and handkerchiefs and
+silk stockings in such abundant supplies that the polite young women
+behind the counters whispered to each other that the odd little girl
+with the big, solemn eyes must be at least some foreign
+princess--perhaps the little daughter of an Indian rajah.
+
+And at last they found Emily, but they went to a number of toy-shops and
+looked at a great many dolls before they finally discovered her.
+
+"I want her to look as if she wasn't a doll really," Sara said. "I want
+her to look as if she _listens_ when I talk to her. The trouble with
+dolls, papa"--and she put her head on one side and reflected as she
+said it--"the trouble with dolls is that they never seem to _hear_." So
+they looked at big ones and little ones--at dolls with black eyes and
+dolls with blue--at dolls with brown curls and dolls with golden braids,
+dolls dressed and dolls undressed.
+
+"You see," Sara said when they were examining one who had no clothes.
+"If, when I find her, she has no frocks, we can take her to a dressmaker
+and have her things made to fit. They will fit better if they are tried
+on."
+
+After a number of disappointments they decided to walk and look in at
+the shop windows and let the cab follow them. They had passed two or
+three places without even going in, when, as they were approaching a
+shop which was really not a very large one, Sara suddenly started and
+clutched her father's arm.
+
+"Oh, papa!" she cried. "There is Emily!"
+
+A flush had risen to her face and there was an expression in her
+green-gray eyes as if she had just recognized some one she was intimate
+with and fond of.
+
+"She is actually waiting for us!" she said. "Let us go in to her."
+
+"Dear me!" said Captain Crewe; "I feel as if we ought to have some one
+to introduce us."
+
+"You must introduce me and I will introduce you," said Sara. "But I knew
+her the minute I saw her--so perhaps she knew me, too."
+
+Perhaps she had known her. She had certainly a very intelligent
+expression in her eyes when Sara took her in her arms. She was a large
+doll, but not too large to carry about easily; she had naturally
+curling golden-brown hair, which hung like a mantle about her, and her
+eyes were a deep, clear, gray blue, with soft, thick eyelashes which
+were real eyelashes and not mere painted lines.
+
+"Of course," said Sara, looking into her face as she held her on her
+knee--"of course, papa, this is Emily."
+
+So Emily was bought and actually taken to a children's outfitter's shop,
+and measured for a wardrobe as grand as Sara's own. She had lace frocks,
+too, and velvet and muslin ones, and hats and coats and beautiful
+lace-trimmed underclothes, and gloves and handkerchiefs and furs.
+
+"I should like her always to look as if she was a child with a good
+mother," said Sara. "I'm her mother, though I am going to make a
+companion of her."
+
+Captain Crewe would really have enjoyed the shopping tremendously, but
+that a sad thought kept tugging at his heart. This all meant that he was
+going to be separated from his beloved, quaint little comrade.
+
+He got out of his bed in the middle of that night and went and stood
+looking down at Sara, who lay asleep with Emily in her arms. Her black
+hair was spread out on the pillow and Emily's golden-brown hair mingled
+with it, both of them had lace-ruffled night-gowns, and both had long
+eyelashes which lay and curled up on their cheeks. Emily looked so like
+a real child that Captain Crewe felt glad she was there. He drew a big
+sigh and pulled his mustache with a boyish expression.
+
+"Heigh-ho, little Sara!" he said to himself. "I don't believe you know
+how much your daddy will miss you."
+
+The next day he took her to Miss Minchin's and left her there. He was
+to sail away the next morning. He explained to Miss Minchin that his
+solicitors, Messrs. Barrow & Skipworth, had charge of his affairs in
+England and would give her any advice she wanted, and that they would
+pay the bills she sent in for Sara's expenses. He would write to Sara
+twice a week, and she was to be given every pleasure she asked for.
+
+"She is a sensible little thing, and she never wants anything it isn't
+safe to give her," he said.
+
+Then he went with Sara into her little sitting-room and they bade each
+other good-by. Sara sat on his knee and held the lapels of his coat in
+her small hands, and looked long and hard at his face.
+
+"Are you learning me by heart, little Sara," he said, stroking her hair.
+
+"No," she answered. "I know you by heart. You are inside my heart." And
+they put their arms round each other and kissed as if they would never
+let each other go.
+
+When the cab drove away from the door, Sara was sitting on the floor of
+her sitting-room, with her hands under her chin and her eyes following
+it until it had turned the corner of the square. Emily was sitting by
+her, and she looked after it, too. When Miss Minchin sent her sister,
+Miss Amelia, to see what the child was doing, she found she could not
+open the door.
+
+"I have locked it," said a queer, polite little voice from inside. "I
+want to be quite by myself, if you please."
+
+Miss Amelia was fat and dumpy, and stood very much in awe of her
+sister. She was really the better-natured person of the two, but she
+never disobeyed Miss Minchin. She went down-stairs again, looking almost
+alarmed.
+
+"I never saw such a funny, old-fashioned child, sister," she said. "She
+has locked herself in, and she is not making the least particle of
+noise."
+
+"It is much better than if she kicked and screamed, as some of them do,"
+Miss Minchin answered. "I expected that a child as much spoiled as she
+is would set the whole house in an uproar. If ever a child was given her
+own way in everything, she is."
+
+"I've been opening her trunks and putting her things away," said Miss
+Amelia. "I never saw anything like them--sable and ermine on her coats,
+and real Valenciennes lace on her underclothing. You have seen some of
+her clothes. What _do_ you think of them?"
+
+"I think they are perfectly ridiculous," replied Miss Minchin, sharply;
+"but they will look very well at the head of the line when we take the
+school-children to church on Sunday. She has been provided for as if she
+were a little princess."
+
+And up-stairs in the locked room Sara and Emily sat on the floor and
+stared at the corner round which the cab had disappeared, while Captain
+Crewe looked backward, waving and kissing his hand as if he could not
+bear to stop.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+A FRENCH LESSON
+
+
+When Sara entered the school-room the next morning everybody looked at
+her with wide, interested eyes. By that time every pupil--from Lavinia
+Herbert, who was nearly thirteen and felt quite grown up, to Lottie
+Legh, who was only just four and the baby of the school--had heard a
+great deal about her. They knew very certainly that she was Miss
+Minchin's show pupil and was considered a credit to the establishment.
+One or two of them had even caught a glimpse of her French maid,
+Mariette, who had arrived the evening before. Lavinia had managed to
+pass Sara's room when the door was open, and had seen Mariette opening
+a box which had arrived late from some shop.
+
+"It was full of petticoats with lace frills on them--frills and frills,"
+she whispered to her friend Jessie as she bent over her geography. "I
+saw her shaking them out. I heard Miss Minchin say to Miss Amelia that
+her clothes were so grand that they were ridiculous for a child. My
+mamma says that children should be dressed simply. She has got one of
+those petticoats on now. I saw it when she sat down."
+
+"She has silk stockings on!" whispered Jessie, bending over her
+geography also. "And what little feet! I never saw such little feet."
+
+"Oh," sniffed Lavinia, spitefully, "that is the way her slippers are
+made. My mamma says that even big feet can be made to look small if you
+have a clever shoemaker. I don't think she is pretty at all. Her eyes
+are such a queer color."
+
+"She isn't pretty as other pretty people are," said Jessie, stealing a
+glance across the room; "but she makes you want to look at her again.
+She has tremendously long eyelashes, but her eyes are almost green."
+
+[Illustration: She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of eyes
+watching her.]
+
+Sara was sitting quietly in her seat, waiting to be told what to do. She
+had been placed near Miss Minchin's desk. She was not abashed at all by
+the many pairs of eyes watching her. She was interested and looked back
+quietly at the children who looked at her. She wondered what they were
+thinking of, and if they liked Miss Minchin, and if they cared for their
+lessons, and if any of them had a papa at all like her own. She had had
+a long talk with Emily about her papa that morning.
+
+"He is on the sea now, Emily," she had said. "We must be very great
+friends to each other and tell each other things. Emily, look at me. You
+have the nicest eyes I ever saw,--but I wish you could speak."
+
+She was a child full of imaginings and whimsical thoughts, and one of
+her fancies was that there would be a great deal of comfort in even
+pretending that Emily was alive and really heard and understood. After
+Mariette had dressed her in her dark-blue school-room frock and tied
+her hair with a dark-blue ribbon, she went to Emily, who sat in a chair
+of her own, and gave her a book.
+
+"You can read that while I am down-stairs," she said; and, seeing
+Mariette looking at her curiously, she spoke to her with a serious
+little face.
+
+"What I believe about dolls," she said, "is that they can do things they
+will not let us know about. Perhaps, really, Emily can read and talk and
+walk, but she will only do it when people are out of the room. That is
+her secret. You see, if people knew that dolls could do things, they
+would make them work. So, perhaps, they have promised each other to keep
+it a secret. If you stay in the room, Emily will just sit there and
+stare; but if you go out, she will begin to read, perhaps, or go and
+look out of the window. Then if she heard either of us coming, she would
+just run back and jump into her chair and pretend she had been there all
+the time."
+
+"_Comme elle est drôle!_" Mariette said to herself, and when she went
+down-stairs she told the head housemaid about it. But she had already
+begun to like this odd little girl who had such an intelligent small
+face and such perfect manners. She had taken care of children before
+who were not so polite. Sara was a very fine little person, and had a
+gentle, appreciative way of saying, "If you please, Mariette," "Thank
+you, Mariette," which was very charming. Mariette told the head
+housemaid that she thanked her as if she was thanking a lady.
+
+"_Elle a l'air d'une princesse, cette petite,_" she said. Indeed, she
+was very much pleased with her new little mistress and liked her place
+greatly.
+
+After Sara had sat in her seat in the school-room for a few minutes,
+being looked at by the pupils, Miss Minchin rapped in a dignified manner
+upon her desk.
+
+"Young ladies," she said, "I wish to introduce you to your new
+companion." All the little girls rose in their places, and Sara rose
+also. "I shall expect you all to be very agreeable to Miss Crewe; she
+has just come to us from a great distance--in fact, from India. As soon
+as lessons are over you must make each other's acquaintance."
+
+The pupils bowed ceremoniously, and Sara made a little courtesy, and
+then they sat down and looked at each other again.
+
+"Sara," said Miss Minchin in her school-room manner, "come here to me."
+
+She had taken a book from the desk and was turning over its leaves. Sara
+went to her politely.
+
+"As your papa has engaged a French maid for you," she began, "I conclude
+that he wishes you to make a special study of the French language."
+
+Sara felt a little awkward.
+
+"I think he engaged her," she said, "because he--he thought I would like
+her, Miss Minchin."
+
+"I am afraid," said Miss Minchin, with a slightly sour smile, "that you
+have been a very spoiled little girl and always imagine that things are
+done because you like them. My impression is that your papa wished you
+to learn French."
+
+If Sara had been older or less punctilious about being quite polite to
+people, she could have explained herself in a very few words. But, as
+it was, she felt a flush rising on her cheeks. Miss Minchin was a very
+severe and imposing person, and she seemed so absolutely sure that Sara
+knew nothing whatever of French that she felt as if it would be almost
+rude to correct her. The truth was that Sara could not remember the time
+when she had not seemed to know French. Her father had often spoken it
+to her when she had been a baby. Her mother had been a Frenchwoman, and
+Captain Crewe had loved her language, so it happened that Sara had
+always heard and been familiar with it.
+
+"I--I have never really learned French, but--but--" she began, trying
+shyly to make herself clear.
+
+One of Miss Minchin's chief secret annoyances was that she did not speak
+French herself, and was desirous of concealing the irritating fact. She,
+therefore, had no intention of discussing the matter and laying herself
+open to innocent questioning by a new little pupil.
+
+"That is enough," she said with polite tartness. "If you have not
+learned, you must begin at once. The French master, Monsieur Dufarge,
+will be here in a few minutes. Take this book and look at it until he
+arrives."
+
+Sara's cheeks felt warm. She went back to her seat and opened the book.
+She looked at the first page with a grave face. She knew it would be
+rude to smile, and she was very determined not to be rude. But it was
+very odd to find herself expected to study a page which told her that
+"_le père_" meant "the father," and "_la mère_" meant "the mother."
+
+Miss Minchin glanced toward her scrutinizingly.
+
+"You look rather cross, Sara," she said. "I am sorry you do not like the
+idea of learning French."
+
+"I am very fond of it," answered Sara, thinking she would try again;
+"but--"
+
+"You must not say 'but' when you are told to do things," said Miss
+Minchin. "Look at your book again."
+
+And Sara did so, and did not smile, even when she found that "_le fils_"
+meant "the son," and "_le frère_" meant "the brother."
+
+"When Monsieur Dufarge comes," she thought, "I can make him understand."
+
+Monsieur Dufarge arrived very shortly afterward. He was a very nice,
+intelligent, middle-aged Frenchman, and he looked interested when his
+eyes fell upon Sara trying politely to seem absorbed in her little book
+of phrases.
+
+"Is this a new pupil for me, madame?" he said to Miss Minchin. "I hope
+that is my good fortune."
+
+"Her papa--Captain Crewe--is very anxious that she should begin the
+language. But I am afraid she has a childish prejudice against it. She
+does not seem to wish to learn," said Miss Minchin.
+
+"I am sorry of that, mademoiselle," he said kindly to Sara. "Perhaps,
+when we begin to study together, I may show you that it is a charming
+tongue."
+
+Little Sara rose in her seat. She was beginning to feel rather
+desperate, as if she were almost in disgrace. She looked up into
+Monsieur Dufarge's face with her big, green-gray eyes, and they were
+quite innocently appealing. She knew that he would understand as soon
+as she spoke. She began to explain quite simply in pretty and fluent
+French. Madame had not understood. She had not learned French
+exactly,--not out of books,--but her papa and other people had always
+spoken it to her, and she had read it and written it as she had read
+and written English. Her papa loved it, and she loved it because he
+did. Her dear mamma, who had died when she was born, had been French.
+She would be glad to learn anything monsieur would teach her, but what
+she had tried to explain to madame was that she already knew the words
+in this book--and she held out the little book of phrases.
+
+When she began to speak Miss Minchin started quite violently and sat
+staring at her over her eye-glasses, almost indignantly, until she had
+finished. Monsieur Dufarge began to smile, and his smile was one of
+great pleasure. To hear this pretty childish voice speaking his own
+language so simply and charmingly made him feel almost as if he were in
+his native land--which in dark, foggy days in London sometimes seemed
+worlds away. When she had finished, he took the phrase-book from her,
+with a look almost affectionate. But he spoke to Miss Minchin.
+
+"Ah, madame," he said, "there is not much I can teach her. She has not
+_learned_ French; she _is_ French. Her accent is exquisite."
+
+"You ought to have told me," exclaimed Miss Minchin, much mortified,
+turning on Sara.
+
+"I--I tried," said Sara. "I--I suppose I did not begin right."
+
+Miss Minchin knew she had tried, and that it had not been her fault that
+she was not allowed to explain. And when she saw that the pupils had
+been listening and that Lavinia and Jessie were giggling behind their
+French grammars, she felt infuriated.
+
+"Silence, young ladies!" she said severely, rapping upon the desk.
+"Silence at once!"
+
+And she began from that minute to feel rather a grudge against her show
+pupil.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+ERMENGARDE
+
+
+On that first morning, when Sara sat at Miss Minchin's side, aware that
+the whole school-room was devoting itself to observing her, she had
+noticed very soon one little girl, about her own age, who looked at her
+very hard with a pair of light, rather dull, blue eyes. She was a fat
+child who did not look as if she were in the least clever, but she had
+a good-naturedly pouting mouth. Her flaxen hair was braided in a tight
+pigtail, tied with a ribbon, and she had pulled this pigtail round her
+neck, and was biting the end of the ribbon, resting her elbows on the
+desk, as she stared wonderingly at the new pupil. When Monsieur Dufarge
+began to speak to Sara, she looked a little frightened; and when Sara
+stepped forward and, looking at him with the innocent, appealing eyes,
+answered him, without any warning, in French, the fat little girl gave
+a startled jump, and grew quite red in her awed amazement. Having wept
+hopeless tears for weeks in her efforts to remember that "_la mère_"
+meant "the mother," and "_le père_," "the father,"--when one spoke
+sensible English,--it was almost too much for her to suddenly find
+herself listening to a child her own age who seemed not only quite
+familiar with these words, but apparently knew any number of others,
+and could mix them up with verbs as if they were mere trifles.
+
+She stared so hard and bit the ribbon on her pigtail so fast that she
+attracted the attention of Miss Minchin, who, feeling extremely cross at
+the moment, immediately pounced upon her.
+
+"Miss St. John!" she exclaimed severely. "What do you mean by such
+conduct? Remove your elbows! Take your ribbon out of your mouth! Sit up
+at once!"
+
+Upon which Miss St. John gave another jump, and when Lavinia and Jessie
+tittered she became redder than ever--so red, indeed, that she almost
+looked as if tears were coming into her poor, dull, childish eyes; and
+Sara saw her and was so sorry for her that she began to rather like her
+and want to be her friend. It was a way of hers always to want to spring
+into any fray in which some one was made uncomfortable or unhappy.
+
+"If Sara had been a boy and lived a few centuries ago," her father used
+to say, "she would have gone about the country with her sword drawn,
+rescuing and defending every one in distress. She always wants to fight
+when she sees people in trouble."
+
+So she took rather a fancy to fat, slow, little Miss St. John, and kept
+glancing toward her through the morning. She saw that lessons were no
+easy matter to her, and that there was no danger of her ever being
+spoiled by being treated as a show pupil. Her French lesson was a
+pathetic thing. Her pronunciation made even Monsieur Dufarge smile in
+spite of himself, and Lavinia and Jessie and the more fortunate girls
+either giggled or looked at her in wondering disdain. But Sara did not
+laugh. She tried to look as if she did not hear when Miss St. John
+called "_le bon pain_," "_lee bong pang_." She had a fine, hot little
+temper of her own, and it made her feel rather savage when she heard the
+titters and saw the poor, stupid, distressed child's face.
+
+"It isn't funny, really," she said between her teeth, as she bent over
+her book. "They ought not to laugh."
+
+When lessons were over and the pupils gathered together in groups to
+talk, Sara looked for Miss St. John, and finding her bundled rather
+disconsolately in a window-seat, she walked over to her and spoke. She
+only said the kind of thing little girls always say to each other by way
+of beginning an acquaintance, but there was something nice and friendly
+about Sara, and people always felt it.
+
+"What is your name?" she said.
+
+To explain Miss St. John's amazement one must recall that a new pupil
+is, for a short time, a somewhat uncertain thing; and of this new pupil
+the entire school had talked the night before until it fell asleep quite
+exhausted by excitement and contradictory stories. A new pupil with a
+carriage and a pony and a maid, and a voyage from India to discuss, was
+not an ordinary acquaintance.
+
+"My name's Ermengarde St. John," she answered.
+
+"Mine is Sara Crewe," said Sara. "Yours is very pretty. It sounds like a
+story-book."
+
+"Do you like it?" fluttered Ermengarde. "I--I like yours."
+
+Miss St. John's chief trouble in life was that she had a clever father.
+Sometimes this seemed to her a dreadful calamity. If you have a father
+who knows everything, who speaks seven or eight languages, and has
+thousands of volumes which he has apparently learned by heart, he
+frequently expects you to be familiar with the contents of your
+lesson-books at least; and it is not improbable that he will feel you
+ought to be able to remember a few incidents of history and to write a
+French exercise. Ermengarde was a severe trial to Mr. St. John. He could
+not understand how a child of his could be a notably and unmistakably
+dull creature who never shone in anything.
+
+"Good heavens!" he had said more than once, as he stared at her, "there
+are times when I think she is as stupid as her Aunt Eliza!"
+
+If her Aunt Eliza had been slow to learn and quick to forget a thing
+entirely when she had learned it, Ermengarde was strikingly like her.
+She was the monumental dunce of the school, and it could not be denied.
+
+"She must be _made_ to learn," her father said to Miss Minchin.
+
+Consequently Ermengarde spent the greater part of her life in disgrace
+or in tears. She learned things and forgot them; or, if she remembered
+them, she did not understand them. So it was natural that, having made
+Sara's acquaintance, she should sit and stare at her with profound
+admiration.
+
+"You can speak French, can't you?" she said respectfully.
+
+Sara got on to the window-seat, which was a big, deep one, and, tucking
+up her feet, sat with her hands clasped round her knees.
+
+"I can speak it because I have heard it all my life," she answered. "You
+could speak it if you had always heard it."
+
+"Oh, no, I couldn't," said Ermengarde. "I _never_ could speak it!"
+
+"Why?" inquired Sara, curiously.
+
+Ermengarde shook her head so that the pigtail wabbled.
+
+"You heard me just now," she said. "I'm always like that. I can't _say_
+the words. They're so queer."
+
+She paused a moment, and then added with a touch of awe in her voice:
+
+"You are _clever_, aren't you?"
+
+Sara looked out of the window into the dingy square, where the sparrows
+were hopping and twittering on the wet, iron railings and the sooty
+branches of the trees. She reflected a few moments. She had heard it
+said very often that she was "clever," and she wondered if she was,--and
+_if_ she was, how it had happened.
+
+"I don't know," she said. "I can't tell." Then, seeing a mournful look
+on the round, chubby face, she gave a little laugh and changed the
+subject.
+
+"Would you like to see Emily?" she inquired.
+
+"Who is Emily?" Ermengarde asked, just as Miss Minchin had done.
+
+"Come up to my room and see," said Sara, holding out her hand.
+
+They jumped down from the window-seat together, and went up-stairs.
+
+"Is it true," Ermengarde whispered, as they went through the hall--"is
+it true that you have a play-room all to yourself?"
+
+"Yes," Sara answered. "Papa asked Miss Minchin to let me have one,
+because--well, it was because when I play I make up stories and tell
+them to myself, and I don't like people to hear me. It spoils it if I
+think people listen."
+
+They had reached the passage leading to Sara's room by this time, and
+Ermengarde stopped short, staring, and quite losing her breath.
+
+"You _make up_ stories!" she gasped. "Can you do that--as well as speak
+French? _Can_ you?"
+
+Sara looked at her in simple surprise.
+
+"Why, any one can make up things," she said. "Have you never tried?"
+
+She put her hand warningly on Ermengarde's.
+
+"Let us go very quietly to the door," she whispered, "and then I will
+open it quite suddenly; perhaps we may catch her."
+
+She was half laughing, but there was a touch of mysterious hope in her
+eyes which fascinated Ermengarde, though she had not the remotest idea
+what it meant, or whom it was she wanted to "catch," or why she wanted
+to catch her. Whatsoever she meant, Ermengarde was sure it was something
+delightfully exciting. So, quite thrilled with expectation, she
+followed her on tiptoe along the passage. They made not the least noise
+until they reached the door. Then Sara suddenly turned the handle, and
+threw it wide open. Its opening revealed the room quite neat and quiet,
+a fire gently burning in the grate, and a wonderful doll sitting in a
+chair by it, apparently reading a book.
+
+"Oh, she got back to her seat before we could see her!" Sara exclaimed.
+"Of course they always do. They are as quick as lightning."
+
+Ermengarde looked from her to the doll and back again.
+
+"Can she--walk?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"Yes," answered Sara. "At least I believe she can. At least I _pretend_
+I believe she can. And that makes it seem as if it were true. Have you
+never pretended things?"
+
+"No," said Ermengarde. "Never. I--tell me about it."
+
+She was so bewitched by this odd, new companion that she actually stared
+at Sara instead of at Emily--notwithstanding that Emily was the most
+attractive doll person she had ever seen.
+
+"Let us sit down," said Sara, "and I will tell you. It's so easy that
+when you begin you can't stop. You just go on and on doing it always.
+And it's beautiful. Emily, you must listen. This is Ermengarde St. John,
+Emily. Ermengarde, this is Emily. Would you like to hold her?"
+
+"Oh, may I?" said Ermengarde. "May I, really? She _is_ beautiful!" And
+Emily was put into her arms.
+
+Never in her dull, short life had Miss St. John dreamed of such an hour
+as the one she spent with the queer new pupil before they heard the
+lunch-bell ring and were obliged to go down-stairs.
+
+Sara sat upon the hearth-rug and told her strange things. She sat rather
+huddled up, and her green eyes shone and her cheeks flushed. She told
+stories of the voyage, and stories of India; but what fascinated
+Ermengarde the most was her fancy about the dolls who walked and talked,
+and who could do anything they chose when the human beings were out of
+the room, but who must keep their powers a secret and so flew back to
+their places "like lightning" when people returned to the room.
+
+"_We_ couldn't do it," said Sara, seriously. "You see, it's a kind of
+magic."
+
+Once, when she was relating the story of the search for Emily,
+Ermengarde saw her face suddenly change. A cloud seemed to pass over
+it and put out the light in her shining eyes. She drew her breath in
+so sharply that it made a funny, sad little sound, and then she shut
+her lips and held them tightly closed, as if she was determined either
+to do or _not_ to do something. Ermengarde had an idea that if she had
+been like any other little girl, she might have suddenly burst out
+sobbing and crying. But she did not.
+
+"Have you a--a pain?" Ermengarde ventured.
+
+"Yes," Sara answered, after a moment's silence. "But it is not in my
+body." Then she added something in a low voice which she tried to keep
+quite steady, and it was this: "Do you love your father more than
+anything else in all the whole world?"
+
+Ermengarde's mouth fell open a little. She knew that it would be far
+from behaving like a respectable child at a select seminary to say that
+it had never occurred to you that you _could_ love your father, that you
+would do anything desperate to avoid being left alone in his society for
+ten minutes. She was, indeed, greatly embarrassed.
+
+"I--I scarcely ever see him," she stammered. "He is always in the
+library--reading things."
+
+"I love mine more than all the world ten times over," Sara said. "That
+is what my pain is. He has gone away."
+
+She put her head quietly down on her little, huddled-up knees, and sat
+very still for a few minutes.
+
+"She's going to cry out loud," thought Ermengarde, fearfully.
+
+But she did not. Her short, black locks tumbled about her ears, and she
+sat still. Then she spoke without lifting her head.
+
+"I promised him I would bear it," she said. "And I will. You have to
+bear things. Think what soldiers bear! Papa is a soldier. If there was
+a war he would have to bear marching and thirstiness and, perhaps,
+deep wounds. And he would never say a word--not one word."
+
+Ermengarde could only gaze at her, but she felt that she was beginning
+to adore her. She was so wonderful and different from any one else.
+
+Presently, she lifted her face and shook back her black locks, with a
+queer little smile.
+
+"If I go on talking and talking," she said, "and telling you things
+about pretending, I shall bear it better. You don't forget, but you bear
+it better."
+
+Ermengarde did not know why a lump came into her throat and her eyes
+felt as if tears were in them.
+
+"Lavinia and Jessie are 'best friends,'" she said rather huskily. "I
+wish we could be 'best friends.' Would you have me for yours? You're
+clever, and I'm the stupidest child in the school, but I--oh, I do so
+like you!"
+
+"I'm glad of that," said Sara. "It makes you thankful when you are
+liked. Yes. We will be friends. And I'll tell you what"--a sudden gleam
+lighting her face--"I can help you with your French lessons."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+LOTTIE
+
+
+If Sara had been a different kind of child, the life she led at Miss
+Minchin's Select Seminary for the next ten years would not have been at
+all good for her. She was treated more as if she were a distinguished
+guest at the establishment than as if she were a mere little girl. If
+she had been a self-opinionated, domineering child, she might have
+become disagreeable enough to be unbearable through being so much
+indulged and flattered. If she had been an indolent child, she would
+have learned nothing. Privately Miss Minchin disliked her, but she was
+far too worldly a woman to do or say anything which might make such a
+desirable pupil wish to leave her school. She knew quite well that if
+Sara wrote to her papa to tell him she was uncomfortable or unhappy,
+Captain Crewe would remove her at once. Miss Minchin's opinion was that
+if a child were continually praised and never forbidden to do what she
+liked, she would be sure to be fond of the place where she was so
+treated. Accordingly, Sara was praised for her quickness at her lessons,
+for her good manners, for her amiability to her fellow-pupils, for her
+generosity if she gave sixpence to a beggar out of her full little
+purse; the simplest thing she did was treated as if it were a virtue,
+and if she had not had a disposition and a clever little brain, she
+might have been a very self-satisfied young person. But the clever
+little brain told her a great many sensible and true things about
+herself and her circumstances, and now and then she talked these things
+over to Ermengarde as time went on.
+
+"Things happen to people by accident," she used to say. "A lot of nice
+accidents have happened to me. It just _happened_ that I always liked
+lessons and books, and could remember things when I learned them. It
+just happened that I was born with a father who was beautiful and nice
+and clever, and could give me everything I liked. Perhaps I have not
+really a good temper at all, but if you have everything you want and
+every one is kind to you, how can you help but be good-tempered? I don't
+know"--looking quite serious--"how I shall ever find out whether I am
+really a nice child or a horrid one. Perhaps I'm a _hideous_ child, and
+no one will ever know, just because I never have any trials."
+
+"Lavinia has no trials," said Ermengarde, stolidly, "and she is horrid
+enough."
+
+Sara rubbed the end of her little nose reflectively, as she thought the
+matter over.
+
+"Well," she said at last, "perhaps--perhaps that is because Lavinia is
+_growing_."
+
+This was the result of a charitable recollection of having heard Miss
+Amelia say that Lavinia was growing so fast that she believed it
+affected her health and temper.
+
+Lavinia, in fact, was spiteful. She was inordinately jealous of Sara.
+Until the new pupil's arrival, she had felt herself the leader in the
+school. She had led because she was capable of making herself extremely
+disagreeable if the others did not follow her. She domineered over the
+little children, and assumed grand airs with those big enough to be her
+companions. She was rather pretty, and had been the best-dressed pupil
+in the procession when the Select Seminary walked out two by two, until
+Sara's velvet coats and sable muffs appeared, combined with drooping
+ostrich feathers, and were led by Miss Minchin at the head of the line.
+This, at the beginning, had been bitter enough; but as time went on it
+became apparent that Sara was a leader, too, and not because she could
+make herself disagreeable, but because she never did.
+
+"There's one thing about Sara Crewe," Jessie had enraged her "best
+friend" by saying honestly,--"she's never 'grand' about herself the
+least bit, and you know she might be, Lavvie. I believe I couldn't help
+being--just a little--if I had so many fine things and was made such a
+fuss over. It's disgusting, the way Miss Minchin shows her off when
+parents come."
+
+"'Dear Sara must come into the drawing-room and talk to Mrs. Musgrave
+about India,'" mimicked Lavinia, in her most highly flavored imitation
+of Miss Minchin. "'Dear Sara must speak French to Lady Pitkin. Her
+accent is so perfect.' She didn't learn her French at the Seminary, at
+any rate. And there's nothing so clever in her knowing it. She says
+herself she didn't learn it at all. She just picked it up, because she
+always heard her papa speak it. And, as to her papa, there is nothing so
+grand in being an Indian officer."
+
+"Well," said Jessie, slowly, "he's killed tigers. He killed the one in
+the skin Sara has in her room. That's why she likes it so. She lies on
+it and strokes its head, and talks to it as if it was a cat."
+
+"She's always doing something silly," snapped Lavinia. "My mamma says
+that way of hers of pretending things is silly. She says she will grow
+up eccentric."
+
+It was quite true that Sara was never "grand." She was a friendly little
+soul, and shared her privileges and belongings with a free hand. The
+little ones, who were accustomed to being disdained and ordered out of
+the way by mature ladies aged ten and twelve, were never made to cry by
+this most envied of them all. She was a motherly young person, and when
+people fell down and scraped their knees, she ran and helped them up and
+patted them, or found in her pocket a bonbon or some other article of a
+soothing nature. She never pushed them out of her way or alluded to
+their years as a humiliation and a blot upon their small characters.
+
+"If you are four you are four," she said severely to Lavinia on an
+occasion of her having--it must be confessed--slapped Lottie and called
+her "a brat"; "but you will be five next year, and six the year after
+that. And," opening large, convicting eyes, "it only takes sixteen years
+to make you twenty."
+
+"Dear me!" said Lavinia; "how we can calculate!" In fact, it was not to
+be denied that sixteen and four made twenty,--and twenty was an age the
+most daring were scarcely bold enough to dream of.
+
+[Illustration: More than once she had been known to have a
+tea-party....]
+
+So the younger children adored Sara. More than once she had been known
+to have a tea-party, made up of these despised ones, in her own room.
+And Emily had been played with, and Emily's own tea-service used--the
+one with cups which held quite a lot of much-sweetened weak tea and had
+blue flowers on them. No one had seen such a very real doll's tea-set
+before. From that afternoon Sara was regarded as a goddess and a queen
+by the entire alphabet class.
+
+Lottie Legh worshipped her to such an extent that if Sara had not been a
+motherly person, she would have found her tiresome. Lottie had been sent
+to school by a rather flighty young papa who could not imagine what else
+to do with her. Her young mother had died, and as the child had been
+treated like a favorite doll or a very spoiled pet monkey or lap-dog
+ever since the first hour of her life, she was a very appalling little
+creature. When she wanted anything or did not want anything she wept and
+howled; and, as she always wanted the things she could not have, and did
+not want the things that were best for her, her shrill little voice was
+usually to be heard uplifted in wails in one part of the house or
+another.
+
+Her strongest weapon was that in some mysterious way she had found out
+that a very small girl who had lost her mother was a person who ought to
+be pitied and made much of. She had probably heard some grown-up
+people talking her over in the early days, after her mother's death.
+So it became her habit to make great use of this knowledge.
+
+The first time Sara took her in charge was one morning when, on passing
+a sitting-room, she heard both Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia trying to
+suppress the angry wails of some child who, evidently, refused to be
+silenced. She refused so strenuously indeed that Miss Minchin was
+obliged to almost shout--in a stately and severe manner--to make herself
+heard.
+
+"What _is_ she crying for?" she almost yelled.
+
+"Oh--oh--oh!" Sara heard; "I haven't got any mam--ma-a!"
+
+"Oh, Lottie!" screamed Miss Amelia. "Do stop, darling! Don't cry! Please
+don't!"
+
+"Oh! oh! oh!" Lottie howled tempestuously. "Haven't--got--any--mam--ma-a!"
+
+"She ought to be whipped," Miss Minchin proclaimed. "You _shall_ be
+whipped, you naughty child!"
+
+Lottie wailed more loudly than ever. Miss Amelia began to cry. Miss
+Minchin's voice rose until it almost thundered, then suddenly she sprang
+up from her chair in impotent indignation and flounced out of the room,
+leaving Miss Amelia to arrange the matter.
+
+Sara had paused in the hall, wondering if she ought to go into the room,
+because she had recently begun a friendly acquaintance with Lottie and
+might be able to quiet her. When Miss Minchin came out and saw her,
+she looked rather annoyed. She realized that her voice, as heard from
+inside the room, could not have sounded either dignified or amiable.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she exclaimed, endeavoring to produce a suitable smile.
+
+"I stopped," explained Sara, "because I knew it was Lottie,--and I
+thought, perhaps--just perhaps, I could make her be quiet. May I try,
+Miss Minchin?"
+
+"If you can. You are a clever child," answered Miss Minchin, drawing in
+her mouth sharply. Then, seeing that Sara looked slightly chilled by her
+asperity, she changed her manner. "But you are clever in everything,"
+she said in her approving way. "I dare say you can manage her. Go in."
+And she left her.
+
+When Sara entered the room, Lottie was lying upon the floor, screaming
+and kicking her small fat legs violently, and Miss Amelia was bending
+over her in consternation and despair, looking quite red and damp with
+heat. Lottie had always found, when in her own nursery at home, that
+kicking and screaming would always be quieted by any means she insisted
+on. Poor plump Miss Amelia was trying first one method, and then
+another.
+
+"Poor darling!" she said one moment; "I know you haven't any mamma,
+poor--" Then in quite another tone: "If you don't stop, Lottie, I will
+shake you. Poor little angel! There--there! You wicked, bad, detestable
+child, I will smack you! I will!"
+
+Sara went to them quietly. She did not know at all what she was going to
+do, but she had a vague inward conviction that it would be better not to
+say such different kinds of things quite so helplessly and excitedly.
+
+"Miss Amelia," she said in a low voice, "Miss Minchin says I may try to
+make her stop--may I?"
+
+Miss Amelia turned and looked at her hopelessly. "Oh, _do_ you think you
+can?" she gasped.
+
+"I don't know whether I _can_," answered Sara, still in her
+half-whisper; "but I will try."
+
+Miss Amelia stumbled up from her knees with a heavy sigh, and Lottie's
+fat little legs kicked as hard as ever.
+
+"If you will steal out of the room," said Sara, "I will stay with her."
+
+"Oh, Sara!" almost whimpered Miss Amelia. "We never had such a dreadful
+child before. I don't believe we _can_ keep her."
+
+But she crept out of the room, and was very much relieved to find an
+excuse for doing it.
+
+Sara stood by the howling, furious child for a few moments, and looked
+down at her without saying anything. Then she sat down flat on the floor
+beside her and waited. Except for Lottie's angry screams, the room was
+quite quiet. This was a new state of affairs for little Miss Legh, who
+was accustomed, when she screamed, to hear other people protest and
+implore and command and coax by turns. To lie and kick and shriek,
+and find the only person near you not seeming to mind in the least,
+attracted her attention. She opened her tight-shut streaming eyes to see
+who this person was. And it was only another little girl. But it was the
+one who owned Emily and all the nice things. And she was looking at her
+steadily and as if she was merely thinking. Having paused for a few
+seconds to find this out, Lottie thought she must begin again, but the
+quiet of the room and of Sara's odd, interested face made her first
+howl rather half-hearted.
+
+"I--haven't--any--ma--ma--ma-a!" she announced; but her voice was not so
+strong.
+
+Sara looked at her still more steadily, but with a sort of understanding
+in her eyes.
+
+"Neither have I," she said.
+
+This was so unexpected that it was astounding. Lottie actually dropped
+her legs, gave a wriggle, and lay and stared. A new idea will stop a
+crying child when nothing else will. Also it was true that while Lottie
+disliked Miss Minchin, who was cross, and Miss Amelia, who was foolishly
+indulgent, she rather liked Sara, little as she knew her. She did not
+want to give up her grievance, but her thoughts were distracted from it,
+so she wriggled again, and, after a sulky sob, said:
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+Sara paused a moment. Because she had been told that her mamma was in
+heaven, she had thought a great deal about the matter, and her thoughts
+had not been quite like those of other people.
+
+"She went to heaven," she said. "But I am sure she comes out sometimes
+to see me--though I don't see her. So does yours. Perhaps they can both
+see us now. Perhaps they are both in this room."
+
+Lottie sat bolt upright, and looked about her. She was a pretty, little,
+curly-headed creature, and her round eyes were like wet forget-me-nots.
+If her mamma had seen her during the last half-hour, she might not have
+thought her the kind of child who ought to be related to an angel.
+
+Sara went on talking. Perhaps some people might think that what she
+said was rather like a fairy story, but it was all so real to her own
+imagination that Lottie began to listen in spite of herself. She had
+been told that her mamma had wings and a crown, and she had been shown
+pictures of ladies in beautiful white night-gowns, who were said to
+be angels. But Sara seemed to be telling a real story about a lovely
+country where real people were.
+
+"There are fields and fields of flowers," she said, forgetting herself,
+as usual, when she began, and talking rather as if she were in a
+dream--"fields and fields of lilies--and when the soft wind blows over
+them it wafts the scent of them into the air--and everybody always
+breathes it, because the soft wind is always blowing. And little
+children run about in the lily-fields and gather armsful of them, and
+laugh and make little wreaths. And the streets are shining. And no one
+is ever tired, however far they walk. They can float anywhere they like.
+And there are walls made of pearl and gold all round the city, but they
+are low enough for the people to go and lean on them, and look down on
+to the earth and smile, and send beautiful messages."
+
+Whatsoever story she had begun to tell, Lottie would, no doubt, have
+stopped crying, and been fascinated into listening; but there was no
+denying that this story was prettier than most others. She dragged
+herself close to Sara, and drank in every word until the end came--far
+too soon. When it did come, she was so sorry that she put up her lip
+ominously.
+
+"I want to go there," she cried. "I--haven't any mamma in this school."
+
+Sara saw the danger-signal, and came out of her dream. She took hold of
+the chubby hand and pulled her close to her side with a coaxing little
+laugh.
+
+"I will be your mamma," she said. "We will play that you are my little
+girl. And Emily shall be your sister."
+
+Lottie's dimples all began to show themselves.
+
+"Shall she?" she said.
+
+"Yes," answered Sara, jumping to her feet. "Let us go and tell her. And
+then I will wash your face and brush your hair."
+
+To which Lottie agreed quite cheerfully, and trotted out of the room and
+up-stairs with her, without seeming even to remember that the whole of
+the last hour's tragedy had been caused by the fact that she had refused
+to be washed and brushed for lunch and Miss Minchin had been called in
+to use her majestic authority.
+
+And from that time Sara was an adopted mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+BECKY
+
+
+Of course the greatest power Sara possessed and the one which gained
+her even more followers than her luxuries and the fact that she was
+"the show pupil," the power that Lavinia and certain other girls were
+most envious of, and at the same time most fascinated by in spite of
+themselves, was her power of telling stories and of making everything
+she talked about seem like a story, whether it was one or not.
+
+Any one who has been at school with a teller of stories knows what the
+wonder means--how he or she is followed about and besought in a whisper
+to relate romances; how groups gather round and hang on the outskirts of
+the favored party in the hope of being allowed to join it and listen.
+Sara not only could tell stories, but she adored telling them. When she
+sat or stood in the midst of a circle and began to invent wonderful
+things, her green eyes grew big and shining, her cheeks flushed, and,
+without knowing that she was doing it, she began to act and made what
+she told lovely or alarming by the raising or dropping of her voice, the
+bend and sway of her slim body, and the dramatic movement of her hands.
+She forgot that she was talking to listening children; she saw and
+lived with the fairy folk, or the kings and queens and beautiful ladies,
+whose adventures she was narrating. Sometimes when she had finished her
+story, she was quite out of breath with excitement, and would lay her
+hand on her thin, little, quick-rising chest, and half laugh as if at
+herself.
+
+"When I am telling it," she would say, "it doesn't seem as if it was
+only made up. It seems more real than you are--more real than the
+school-room. I feel as if I were all the people in the story--one after
+the other. It _is_ queer."
+
+She had been at Miss Minchin's school about two years when, one foggy
+winter's afternoon, as she was getting out of her carriage, comfortably
+wrapped up in her warmest velvets and furs and looking very much grander
+than she knew, she caught sight, as she crossed the pavement, of a dingy
+little figure standing on the area steps, and stretching its neck
+so that its wide-open eyes might peer at her through the railings.
+Something in the eagerness and timidity of the smudgy face made her look
+at it, and when she looked she smiled because it was her way to smile at
+people.
+
+But the owner of the smudgy face and the wide-open eyes evidently was
+afraid that she ought not to have been caught looking at pupils of
+importance. She dodged out of sight like a Jack-in-the-box and scurried
+back into the kitchen, disappearing so suddenly that if she had not been
+such a poor, little forlorn thing, Sara would have laughed in spite of
+herself. That very evening, as Sara was sitting in the midst of a group
+of listeners in a corner of the school-room telling one of her stories,
+the very same figure timidly entered the room, carrying a coal-box much
+too heavy for her, and knelt down upon the hearth-rug to replenish the
+fire and sweep up the ashes.
+
+She was cleaner than she had been when she peeped through the area
+railings, but she looked just as frightened. She was evidently afraid to
+look at the children or seem to be listening. She put on pieces of coal
+cautiously with her fingers so that she might make no disturbing noise,
+and she swept about the fire-irons very softly. But Sara saw in two
+minutes that she was deeply interested in what was going on, and that
+she was doing her work slowly in the hope of catching a word here and
+there. And realizing this, she raised her voice and spoke more clearly.
+
+"The Mermaids swam softly about in the crystal-green water, and dragged
+after them a fishing-net woven of deep-sea pearls," she said. "The
+Princess sat on the white rock and watched them."
+
+It was a wonderful story about a princess who was loved by a Prince
+Merman, and went to live with him in shining caves under the sea.
+
+The small drudge before the grate swept the hearth once and then swept
+it again. Having done it twice, she did it three times; and, as she was
+doing it the third time, the sound of the story so lured her to listen
+that she fell under the spell and actually forgot that she had no right
+to listen at all, and also forgot everything else. She sat down upon her
+heels as she knelt on the hearth-rug, and the brush hung idly in her
+fingers. The voice of the story-teller went on and drew her with it into
+winding grottos under the sea, glowing with soft, clear blue light, and
+paved with pure golden sands. Strange sea flowers and grasses waved
+about her, and far away faint singing and music echoed.
+
+The hearth-brush fell from the work-roughened hand, and Lavinia Herbert
+looked round.
+
+"That girl has been listening," she said.
+
+The culprit snatched up her brush, and scrambled to her feet. She caught
+at the coal-box and simply scuttled out of the room like a frightened
+rabbit.
+
+Sara felt rather hot-tempered.
+
+"I knew she was listening," she said. "Why shouldn't she?"
+
+Lavinia tossed her head with great elegance.
+
+"Well," she remarked, "I do not know whether your mamma would like you
+to tell stories to servant girls, but I know _my_ mamma wouldn't like
+_me_ to do it."
+
+"My mamma!" said Sara, looking odd. "I don't believe she would mind in
+the least. She knows that stories belong to everybody."
+
+"I thought," retorted Lavinia, in severe recollection, "that your mamma
+was dead. How can she know things?"
+
+"Do you think she _doesn't_ know things?" said Sara, in her stern little
+voice. Sometimes she had a rather stern little voice.
+
+"Sara's mamma knows everything," piped in Lottie. "So does my
+mamma--'cept Sara is my mamma at Miss Minchin's--my other one knows
+everything. The streets are shining, and there are fields and fields of
+lilies, and everybody gathers them. Sara tells me when she puts me to
+bed."
+
+"You wicked thing," said Lavinia, turning on Sara; "making fairy stories
+about heaven."
+
+"There are much more splendid stories in Revelation," returned Sara.
+"Just look and see! How do you know mine are fairy stories? But I can
+tell you"--with a fine bit of unheavenly temper--"you will never find
+out whether they are or not if you're not kinder to people than you are
+now. Come along, Lottie." And she marched out of the room, rather hoping
+that she might see the little servant again somewhere, but she found no
+trace of her when she got into the hall.
+
+"Who is that little girl who makes the fires?" she asked Mariette that
+night.
+
+Mariette broke forth into a flow of description.
+
+Ah, indeed, Mademoiselle Sara might well ask. She was a forlorn little
+thing who had just taken the place of scullery-maid--though, as to being
+scullery-maid, she was everything else besides. She blacked boots and
+grates, and carried heavy coal-scuttles up and down stairs, and scrubbed
+floors and cleaned windows, and was ordered about by everybody. She was
+fourteen years old, but was so stunted in growth that she looked about
+twelve. In truth, Mariette was sorry for her. She was so timid that if
+one chanced to speak to her it appeared as if her poor, frightened eyes
+would jump out of her head.
+
+"What is her name?" asked Sara, who had sat by the table, with her chin
+on her hands, as she listened absorbedly to the recital.
+
+Her name was Becky. Mariette heard every one below-stairs calling,
+"Becky, do this," and "Becky, do that," every five minutes in the day.
+
+Sara sat and looked into the fire, reflecting on Becky for some time
+after Mariette left her. She made up a story of which Becky was the
+ill-used heroine. She thought she looked as if she had never had quite
+enough to eat. Her very eyes were hungry. She hoped she should see her
+again, but though she caught sight of her carrying things up or down
+stairs on several occasions, she always seemed in such a hurry and so
+afraid of being seen that it was impossible to speak to her.
+
+But a few weeks later, on another foggy afternoon, when she entered
+her sitting-room she found herself confronting a rather pathetic
+picture. In her own special and pet easy-chair before the bright fire,
+Becky--with a coal smudge on her nose and several on her apron, with
+her poor little cap hanging half off her head, and an empty coal-box
+on the floor near her--sat fast asleep, tired out beyond even the
+endurance of her hard-working young body. She had been sent up to put
+the bedrooms in order for the evening. There were a great many of
+them, and she had been running about all day. Sara's rooms she had
+saved until the last. They were not like the other rooms, which were
+plain and bare. Ordinary pupils were expected to be satisfied with
+mere necessaries. Sara's comfortable sitting-room seemed a bower of
+luxury to the scullery-maid, though it was, in fact, merely a nice,
+bright little room. But there were pictures and books in it, and
+curious things from India; there was a sofa and the low, soft chair;
+Emily sat in a chair of her own, with the air of a presiding goddess,
+and there was always a glowing fire and a polished grate. Becky saved
+it until the end of her afternoon's work, because it rested her to go
+into it, and she always hoped to snatch a few minutes to sit down in
+the soft chair and look about her, and think about the wonderful good
+fortune of the child who owned such surroundings and who went out on
+the cold days in beautiful hats and coats one tried to catch a glimpse
+of through the area railing.
+
+On this afternoon, when she had sat down, the sensation of relief to
+her short, aching legs had been so wonderful and delightful that it had
+seemed to soothe her whole body, and the glow of warmth and comfort from
+the fire had crept over her like a spell, until, as she looked at the
+red coals, a tired, slow smile stole over her smudged face, her head
+nodded forward without her being aware of it, her eyes drooped, and she
+fell fast asleep. She had really been only about ten minutes in the room
+when Sara entered, but she was in as deep a sleep as if she had been,
+like the Sleeping Beauty, slumbering for a hundred years. But she did
+not look--poor Becky!--like a Sleeping Beauty at all. She looked only
+like an ugly, stunted, worn-out little scullery drudge.
+
+Sara seemed as much unlike her as if she were a creature from another
+world.
+
+On this particular afternoon she had been taking her dancing-lesson,
+and the afternoon on which the dancing-master appeared was rather a
+grand occasion at the seminary, though it occurred every week. The
+pupils were attired in their prettiest frocks, and as Sara danced
+particularly well, she was very much brought forward, and Mariette
+was requested to make her as diaphanous and fine as possible.
+
+To-day a frock the color of a rose had been put on her, and Mariette had
+bought some real buds and made her a wreath to wear on her black locks.
+She had been learning a new, delightful dance in which she had been
+skimming and flying about the room, like a large rose-colored butterfly,
+and the enjoyment and exercise had brought a brilliant, happy glow into
+her face.
+
+When she entered the room, she floated in with a few of the butterfly
+steps,--and there sat Becky, nodding her cap sideways off her head.
+
+"Oh!" cried Sara, softly, when she saw her. "That poor thing!"
+
+It did not occur to her to feel cross at finding her pet chair occupied
+by the small, dingy figure. To tell the truth, she was quite glad to
+find it there. When the ill-used heroine of her story wakened, she could
+talk to her. She crept toward her quietly, and stood looking at her.
+Becky gave a little snore.
+
+"I wish she'd waken herself," Sara said. "I don't like to waken her. But
+Miss Minchin would be cross if she found out. I'll just wait a few
+minutes."
+
+She took a seat on the edge of the table, and sat swinging her slim,
+rose-colored legs, and wondering what it would be best to do. Miss
+Amelia might come in at any moment, and if she did, Becky would be sure
+to be scolded.
+
+"But she is so tired," she thought. "She _is_ so tired!"
+
+A piece of flaming coal ended her perplexity for her that very moment.
+It broke off from a large lump and fell on to the fender. Becky started,
+and opened her eyes with a frightened gasp. She did not know she had
+fallen asleep. She had only sat down for one moment and felt the
+beautiful glow--and here she found herself staring in wild alarm at the
+wonderful pupil, who sat perched quite near her, like a rose-colored
+fairy, with interested eyes.
+
+She sprang up and clutched at her cap. She felt it dangling over her
+ear, and tried wildly to put it straight. Oh, she had got herself into
+trouble now with a vengeance! To have impudently fallen asleep on such
+a young lady's chair! She would be turned out of doors without wages.
+
+She made a sound like a big breathless sob.
+
+"Oh, miss! Oh, miss!" she stuttered. "I arst yer pardon, miss! Oh, I do,
+miss!"
+
+Sara jumped down, and came quite close to her.
+
+"Don't be frightened," she said, quite as if she had been speaking to a
+little girl like herself. "It doesn't matter the least bit."
+
+"I didn't go to do it, miss," protested Becky. "It was the warm
+fire--an' me bein' so tired. It--it _wasn't_ imperence!"
+
+Sara broke into a friendly little laugh, and put her hand on her
+shoulder.
+
+"You were tired," she said; "you could not help it. You are not really
+awake yet."
+
+How poor Becky stared at her! In fact, she had never heard such a nice,
+friendly sound in any one's voice before. She was used to being ordered
+about and scolded, and having her ears boxed. And this one--in her
+rose-colored dancing afternoon splendor--was looking at her as if she
+were not a culprit at all--as if she had a right to be tired--even to
+fall asleep! The touch of the soft, slim little paw on her shoulder was
+the most amazing thing she had ever known.
+
+"Ain't--ain't yer angry, miss?" she gasped. "Ain't yer goin' to tell the
+missus?"
+
+"No," cried out Sara. "Of course I'm not."
+
+The woful fright in the coal-smutted face made her suddenly so sorry
+that she could scarcely bear it. One of her queer thoughts rushed into
+her mind. She put her hand against Becky's cheek.
+
+"Why," she said, "we are just the same--I am only a little girl like
+you. It's just an accident that I am not you, and you are not me!"
+
+Becky did not understand in the least. Her mind could not grasp such
+amazing thoughts, and "an accident" meant to her a calamity in which
+some one was run over or fell off a ladder and was carried to "the
+'orspital."
+
+"A' accident, miss," she fluttered respectfully. "Is it?"
+
+"Yes," Sara answered, and she looked at her dreamily for a moment. But
+the next she spoke in a different tone. She realized that Becky did not
+know what she meant.
+
+"Have you done your work?" she asked. "Dare you stay here a few
+minutes?"
+
+Becky lost her breath again.
+
+"Here, miss? Me?"
+
+Sara ran to the door, opened it, and looked out and listened.
+
+"No one is anywhere about," she explained. "If your bedrooms are
+finished, perhaps you might stay a tiny while. I thought--perhaps--you
+might like a piece of cake."
+
+The next ten minutes seemed to Becky like a sort of delirium. Sara
+opened a cupboard, and gave her a thick slice of cake. She seemed to
+rejoice when it was devoured in hungry bites. She talked and asked
+questions, and laughed until Becky's fears actually began to calm
+themselves, and she once or twice gathered boldness enough to ask a
+question or so herself, daring as she felt it to be.
+
+"Is that--" she ventured, looking longingly at the rose-colored frock.
+And she asked it almost in a whisper. "Is that there your best?"
+
+"It is one of my dancing-frocks," answered Sara. "I like it, don't you?"
+
+For a few seconds Becky was almost speechless with admiration. Then she
+said in an awed voice:
+
+"Onct I see a princess. I was standin' in the street with the crowd
+outside Covin' Garden, watchin' the swells go inter the operer. An'
+there was one every one stared at most. They ses to each other, 'That's
+the princess.' She was a growed-up young lady, but she was pink all
+over--gownd an' cloak, an' flowers an' all. I called her to mind the
+minnit I see you, sittin' there on the table, miss. You looked like
+her."
+
+"I've often thought," said Sara, in her reflecting voice, "that I should
+like to be a princess; I wonder what it feels like. I believe I will
+begin pretending I am one."
+
+Becky stared at her admiringly, and, as before, did not understand her
+in the least. She watched her with a sort of adoration. Very soon Sara
+left her reflections and turned to her with a new question.
+
+"Becky," she said, "weren't you listening to that story?"
+
+"Yes, miss," confessed Becky, a little alarmed again. "I knowed I hadn't
+orter, but it was that beautiful I--I couldn't help it."
+
+"I liked you to listen to it," said Sara. "If you tell stories, you like
+nothing so much as to tell them to people who want to listen. I don't
+know why it is. Would you like to hear the rest?"
+
+Becky lost her breath again.
+
+"Me hear it?" she cried. "Like as if I was a pupil, miss! All about the
+Prince--and the little white Merbabies swimming about laughing--with
+stars in their hair?"
+
+Sara nodded.
+
+"You haven't time to hear it now, I'm afraid," she said; "but if you
+will tell me just what time you come to do my rooms, I will try to be
+here and tell you a bit of it every day until it is finished. It's a
+lovely long one--and I'm always putting new bits to it."
+
+"Then," breathed Becky, devoutly, "I wouldn't mind _how_ heavy the
+coal-boxes was--or _what_ the cook done to me, if--if I might have that
+to think of."
+
+"You may," said Sara. "I'll tell it _all_ to you."
+
+When Becky went down-stairs, she was not the same Becky who had
+staggered up, loaded down by the weight of the coal-scuttle. She had
+an extra piece of cake in her pocket, and she had been fed and warmed,
+but not only by cake and fire. Something else had warmed and fed her,
+and the something else was Sara.
+
+When she was gone Sara sat on her favorite perch on the end of her
+table. Her feet were on a chair, her elbows on her knees, and her chin
+in her hands.
+
+"If I _was_ a princess--a _real_ princess," she murmured, "I could
+scatter largess to the populace. But even if I am only a pretend
+princess, I can invent little things to do for people. Things like this.
+She was just as happy as if it was largess. I'll pretend that to do
+things people like is scattering largess. I've scattered largess."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE DIAMOND-MINES
+
+
+Not very long after this a very exciting thing happened. Not only Sara,
+but the entire school, found it exciting, and made it the chief subject
+of conversation for weeks after it occurred. In one of his letters
+Captain Crewe told a most interesting story. A friend who had been at
+school with him when he was a boy had unexpectedly come to see him in
+India. He was the owner of a large tract of land upon which diamonds had
+been found, and he was engaged in developing the mines. If all went as
+was confidently expected, he would become possessed of such wealth as it
+made one dizzy to think of; and because he was fond of the friend of his
+school-days, he had given him an opportunity to share in this enormous
+fortune by becoming a partner in his scheme. This, at least, was what
+Sara gathered from his letters. It is true that any other business
+scheme, however magnificent, would have had but small attraction for her
+or for the school-room; but "diamond-mines" sounded so like the "Arabian
+Nights" that no one could be indifferent. Sara thought them enchanting,
+and painted pictures, for Ermengarde and Lottie, of labyrinthine
+passages in the bowels of the earth, where sparkling stones studded the
+walls and roofs and ceilings, and strange, dark men dug them out with
+heavy picks. Ermengarde delighted in the story, and Lottie insisted on
+its being retold to her every evening. Lavinia was very spiteful about
+it, and told Jessie that she didn't believe such things as diamond-mines
+existed.
+
+"My mamma has a diamond ring which cost forty pounds," she said. "And it
+is not a big one, either. If there were mines full of diamonds, people
+would be so rich it would be ridiculous."
+
+"Perhaps Sara will be so rich that she will be ridiculous," giggled
+Jessie.
+
+"She's ridiculous without being rich," Lavinia sniffed.
+
+"I believe you hate her," said Jessie.
+
+"No, I don't," snapped Lavinia. "But I don't believe in mines full of
+diamonds."
+
+"Well, people have to get them from somewhere," said Jessie.
+"Lavinia,"--with a new giggle,--"what do you think Gertrude says?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure; and I don't care if it's something more about
+that everlasting Sara."
+
+"Well, it is. One of her 'pretends' is that she is a princess. She plays
+it all the time--even in school. She says it makes her learn her lessons
+better. She wants Ermengarde to be one, too, but Ermengarde says she is
+too fat."
+
+"She _is_ too fat," said Lavinia. "And Sara is too thin."
+
+Naturally, Jessie giggled again.
+
+"She says it has nothing to do with what you look like, or what you
+have. It has only to do with what you _think_ of, and what you _do_."
+
+"I suppose she thinks she could be a princess if she was a beggar," said
+Lavinia. "Let us begin to call her Your Royal Highness."
+
+Lessons for the day were over, and they were sitting before the
+school-room fire, enjoying the time they liked best. It was the
+time when Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia were taking their tea in the
+sitting-room sacred to themselves. At this hour a great deal of talking
+was done, and a great many secrets changed hands, particularly if the
+younger pupils behaved themselves well, and did not squabble or run
+about noisily, which it must be confessed they usually did. When they
+made an uproar the older girls usually interfered with scoldings and
+shakes. They were expected to keep order, and there was danger that if
+they did not, Miss Minchin or Miss Amelia would appear and put an end to
+festivities. Even as Lavinia spoke the door opened and Sara entered with
+Lottie, whose habit was to trot everywhere after her like a little dog.
+
+"There she is, with that horrid child!" exclaimed Lavinia, in a whisper.
+"If she's so fond of her, why doesn't she keep her in her own room? She
+will begin howling about something in five minutes."
+
+It happened that Lottie had been seized with a sudden desire to play in
+the school-room, and had begged her adopted parent to come with her. She
+joined a group of little ones who were playing in a corner. Sara curled
+herself up in the window-seat, opened a book, and began to read. It was
+a book about the French Revolution, and she was soon lost in a harrowing
+picture of the prisoners in the Bastille--men who had spent so many
+years in dungeons that when they were dragged out by those who rescued
+them, their long, gray hair and beards almost hid their faces, and they
+had forgotten that an outside world existed at all, and were like beings
+in a dream.
+
+She was so far away from the school-room that it was not agreeable to be
+dragged back suddenly by a howl from Lottie. Never did she find anything
+so difficult as to keep herself from losing her temper when she was
+suddenly disturbed while absorbed in a book. People who are fond of
+books know the feeling of irritation which sweeps over them at such a
+moment. The temptation to be unreasonable and snappish is one not easy
+to manage.
+
+"It makes me feel as if some one had hit me," Sara had told Ermengarde
+once in confidence. "And as if I want to hit back. I have to remember
+things quickly to keep from saying something ill-tempered."
+
+She had to remember things quickly when she laid her book on the
+window-seat and jumped down from her comfortable corner.
+
+Lottie had been sliding across the school-room floor, and, having first
+irritated Lavinia and Jessie by making a noise, had ended by falling
+down and hurting her fat knee. She was screaming and dancing up and
+down in the midst of a group of friends and enemies, who were
+alternately coaxing and scolding her.
+
+"Stop this minute, you cry-baby! Stop this minute!" Lavinia commanded.
+
+"I'm not a cry-baby--I'm not!" wailed Lottie. "Sara, Sa--ra!"
+
+"If she doesn't stop, Miss Minchin will hear her," cried Jessie. "Lottie
+darling, I'll give you a penny!"
+
+"I don't want your penny," sobbed Lottie; and she looked down at the fat
+knee, and, seeing a drop of blood on it, burst forth again.
+
+Sara flew across the room and, kneeling down, put her arms round her.
+
+"Now, Lottie," she said. "Now, Lottie, you _promised_ Sara."
+
+"She said I was a cry-baby," wept Lottie.
+
+Sara patted her, but spoke in the steady voice Lottie knew.
+
+"But if you cry, you will be one, Lottie pet. You _promised_."
+
+Lottie remembered that she had promised, but she preferred to lift up
+her voice.
+
+"I haven't any mamma," she proclaimed. "I haven't--a bit--of mamma."
+
+"Yes, you have," said Sara, cheerfully. "Have you forgotten? Don't you
+know that Sara is your mamma? Don't you want Sara for your mamma?"
+
+Lottie cuddled up to her with a consoled sniff.
+
+"Come and sit in the window-seat with me," Sara went on, "and I'll
+whisper a story to you."
+
+"Will you?" whimpered Lottie. "Will you--tell me--about the
+diamond-mines?"
+
+"The diamond-mines?" broke out Lavinia. "Nasty, little spoiled thing, I
+should like to _slap_ her!"
+
+Sara got up quickly on her feet. It must be remembered that she had been
+very deeply absorbed in the book about the Bastille, and she had had to
+recall several things rapidly when she realized that she must go and
+take care of her adopted child. She was not an angel, and she was not
+fond of Lavinia.
+
+"Well," she said, with some fire, "I should like to slap _you_,--but I
+don't want to slap you!" restraining herself. "At least I both want to
+slap you--and I should _like_ to slap you,--but I _won't_ slap you. We
+are not little gutter children. We are both old enough to know better."
+
+Here was Lavinia's opportunity.
+
+"Ah, yes, your royal highness," she said. "We are princesses, I believe.
+At least one of us is. The school ought to be very fashionable now Miss
+Minchin has a princess for a pupil."
+
+Sara started toward her. She looked as if she were going to box her
+ears. Perhaps she was. Her trick of pretending things was the joy of her
+life. She never spoke of it to girls she was not fond of. Her new
+"pretend" about being a princess was very near to her heart, and she was
+shy and sensitive about it. She had meant it to be rather a secret, and
+here was Lavinia deriding it before nearly all the school. She felt the
+blood rush up into her face and tingle in her ears. She only just saved
+herself. If you were a princess, you did not fly into rages. Her hand
+dropped, and she stood quite still a moment. When she spoke it was in a
+quiet, steady voice; she held her head up, and everybody listened to
+her.
+
+"It's true," she said. "Sometimes I do pretend I am a princess. I
+pretend I am a princess, so that I can try and behave like one."
+
+Lavinia could not think of exactly the right thing to say. Several times
+she had found that she could not think of a satisfactory reply when she
+was dealing with Sara. The reason of this was that, somehow, the rest
+always seemed to be vaguely in sympathy with her opponent. She saw now
+that they were pricking up their ears interestedly. The truth was, they
+liked princesses, and they all hoped they might hear something more
+definite about this one, and drew nearer Sara accordingly.
+
+Lavinia could only invent one remark, and it fell rather flat.
+
+"Dear me!" she said; "I hope, when you ascend the throne, you won't
+forget us."
+
+"I won't," said Sara, and she did not utter another word, but stood
+quite still, and stared at her steadily as she saw her take Jessie's arm
+and turn away.
+
+After this, the girls who were jealous of her used to speak of her as
+"Princess Sara" whenever they wished to be particularly disdainful, and
+those who were fond of her gave her the name among themselves as a term
+of affection. No one called her "princess" instead of "Sara," but her
+adorers were much pleased with the picturesqueness and grandeur of the
+title, and Miss Minchin, hearing of it, mentioned it more than once to
+visiting parents, feeling that it rather suggested a sort of royal
+boarding-school.
+
+To Becky it seemed the most appropriate thing in the world. The
+acquaintance begun on the foggy afternoon when she had jumped up
+terrified from her sleep in the comfortable chair, had ripened and
+grown, though it must be confessed that Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia
+knew very little about it. They were aware that Sara was "kind" to the
+scullery-maid, but they knew nothing of certain delightful moments
+snatched perilously when, the up-stairs rooms being set in order with
+lightning rapidity, Sara's sitting-room was reached, and the heavy
+coal-box set down with a sigh of joy. At such times stories were told by
+instalments, things of a satisfying nature were either produced and
+eaten or hastily tucked into pockets to be disposed of at night, when
+Becky went up-stairs to her attic to bed.
+
+"But I has to eat 'em careful, miss," she said once; "'cos if I leaves
+crumbs the rats come out to get 'em."
+
+"Rats!" exclaimed Sara, in horror. "Are there _rats_ there?"
+
+"Lots of 'em, miss," Becky answered in quite a matter-of-fact manner.
+"There mostly is rats an' mice in attics. You gets used to the noise
+they makes scuttling about. I've got so I don't mind 'em s' long as they
+don't run over my piller."
+
+"Ugh!" said Sara.
+
+"You gets used to anythin' after a bit," said Becky. "You have to, miss,
+if you're born a scullery-maid. I'd rather have rats than cockroaches."
+
+"So would I," said Sara; "I suppose you might make friends with a rat in
+time, but I don't believe I should like to make friends with a
+cockroach."
+
+Sometimes Becky did not dare to spend more than a few minutes in the
+bright, warm room, and when this was the case perhaps only a few words
+could be exchanged, and a small purchase slipped into the old-fashioned
+pocket Becky carried under her dress skirt, tied round her waist with a
+band of tape. The search for and discovery of satisfying things to eat
+which could be packed into small compass, added a new interest to Sara's
+existence. When she drove or walked out, she used to look into shop
+windows eagerly. The first time it occurred to her to bring home two or
+three little meat-pies, she felt that she had hit upon a discovery. When
+she exhibited them, Becky's eyes quite sparkled.
+
+"Oh, miss!" she murmured. "Them will be nice an' fillin'. It's
+fillin'ness that's best. Sponge-cake's a 'evingly thing, but it melts
+away like--if you understand, miss. These'll just _stay_ in yer
+stummick."
+
+"Well," hesitated Sara, "I don't think it would be good if they stayed
+always, but I do believe they will be satisfying."
+
+They were satisfying,--and so were beef sandwiches, bought at a
+cook-shop,--and so were rolls and Bologna sausage. In time, Becky began
+to lose her hungry, tired feeling, and the coal-box did not seem so
+unbearably heavy.
+
+However heavy it was, and whatsoever the temper of the cook, and the
+hardness of the work heaped upon her shoulders, she had always the
+chance of the afternoon to look forward to--the chance that Miss Sara
+would be able to be in her sitting-room. In fact, the mere seeing of
+Miss Sara would have been enough without meat-pies. If there was time
+only for a few words, they were always friendly, merry words that put
+heart into one; and if there was time for more, then there was an
+instalment of a story to be told, or some other thing one remembered
+afterward and sometimes lay awake in one's bed in the attic to think
+over. Sara--who was only doing what she unconsciously liked better than
+anything else, Nature having made her for a giver--had not the least
+idea what she meant to poor Becky, and how wonderful a benefactor she
+seemed. If Nature has made you for a giver, your hands are born open,
+and so is your heart; and though there may be times when your hands
+are empty, your heart is always full, and you can give things out of
+that--warm things, kind things, sweet things,--help and comfort and
+laughter,--and sometimes gay, kind laughter is the best help of all.
+
+Becky had scarcely known what laughter was through all her poor, little
+hard-driven life. Sara made her laugh, and laughed with her; and, though
+neither of them quite knew it, the laughter was as "fillin'" as the
+meat-pies.
+
+A few weeks before Sara's eleventh birthday a letter came to her from
+her father, which did not seem to be written in such boyish high spirits
+as usual. He was not very well, and was evidently overweighted by the
+business connected with the diamond-mines.
+
+"You see, little Sara," he wrote, "your daddy is not a business man at
+all, and figures and documents bother him. He does not really understand
+them, and all this seems so enormous. Perhaps, if I was not feverish I
+should not be awake, tossing about, one half of the night and spend the
+other half in troublesome dreams. If my little missus were here, I dare
+say she would give me some solemn, good advice. You would, wouldn't you,
+little missus?"
+
+One of his many jokes had been to call her his "little missus" because
+she had such an old-fashioned air.
+
+He had made wonderful preparations for her birthday. Among other things,
+a new doll had been ordered in Paris, and her wardrobe was to be,
+indeed, a marvel of splendid perfection. When she had replied to the
+letter asking her if the doll would be an acceptable present, Sara had
+been very quaint.
+
+"I am getting very old," she wrote; "you see, I shall never live to have
+another doll given me. This will be my last doll. There is something
+solemn about it. If I could write poetry, I am sure a poem about 'A Last
+Doll' would be very nice. But I cannot write poetry. I have tried,
+and it made me laugh. It did not sound like Watts or Coleridge or
+Shakespeare at all. No one could ever take Emily's place, but I should
+respect the Last Doll very much; and I am sure the school would love it.
+They all like dolls, though some of the big ones--the almost fifteen
+ones--pretend they are too grown up."
+
+Captain Crewe had a splitting headache when he read this letter in his
+bungalow in India. The table before him was heaped with papers and
+letters which were alarming him and filling him with anxious dread, but
+he laughed as he had not laughed for weeks.
+
+"Oh," he said, "she's better fun every year she lives. God grant this
+business may right itself and leave me free to run home and see her.
+What wouldn't I give to have her little arms round my neck this minute!
+What _wouldn't_ I give!"
+
+The birthday was to be celebrated by great festivities. The school-room
+was to be decorated, and there was to be a party. The boxes containing
+the presents were to be opened with great ceremony, and there was to be
+a glittering feast spread in Miss Minchin's sacred room. When the day
+arrived the whole house was in a whirl of excitement. How the morning
+passed nobody quite knew, because there seemed such preparations to be
+made. The school-room was being decked with garlands of holly; the desks
+had been moved away, and red covers had been put on the forms which were
+arrayed round the room against the wall.
+
+When Sara went into her sitting-room in the morning, she found on the
+table a small, dumpy package, tied up in a piece of brown paper. She
+knew it was a present, and she thought she could guess whom it came
+from. She opened it quite tenderly. It was a square pincushion, made of
+not quite clean red flannel, and black pins had been stuck carefully
+into it to form the words, "Menny hapy returns."
+
+"Oh!" cried Sara, with a warm feeling in her heart. "What pains she has
+taken! I like it so, it--it makes me feel sorrowful."
+
+But the next moment she was mystified. On the under side of the
+pincushion was secured a card, bearing in neat letters the name "Miss
+Amelia Minchin."
+
+Sara turned it over and over.
+
+"Miss Amelia!" she said to herself. "How _can_ it be!"
+
+And just at that very moment she heard the door being cautiously pushed
+open and saw Becky peeping round it.
+
+There was an affectionate, happy grin on her face, and she shuffled
+forward and stood nervously pulling at her fingers.
+
+"Do yer like it, Miss Sara?" she said. "Do yer?"
+
+"Like it?" cried Sara. "You darling Becky, you made it all yourself."
+
+Becky gave a hysteric but joyful sniff, and her eyes looked quite moist
+with delight.
+
+"It ain't nothin' but flannin, an' the flannin ain't new; but I wanted
+to give yer somethin' an' I made it of nights. I knew yer could
+_pretend_ it was satin with diamond pins in. _I_ tried to when I was
+makin' it. The card, miss," rather doubtfully; "'t warn't wrong of me
+to pick it up out o' the dust-bin, was it? Miss 'Meliar had throwed it
+away. I hadn't no card o' my own, an' I knowed it wouldn't be a proper
+presink if I didn't pin a card on--so I pinned Miss 'Meliar's."
+
+Sara flew at her and hugged her. She could not have told herself or any
+one else why there was a lump in her throat.
+
+"Oh, Becky!" she cried out, with a queer little laugh. "I love you,
+Becky,--I do, I do!"
+
+"Oh, miss!" breathed Becky. "Thank yer, miss, kindly; It ain't good
+enough for that. The--the flannin wasn't new."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE DIAMOND-MINES AGAIN
+
+
+When Sara entered the holly-hung school-room in the afternoon, she did
+so as the head of a sort of procession. Miss Minchin, in her grandest
+silk dress, led her by the hand. A man-servant followed, carrying the
+box containing the Last Doll, a housemaid carried a second box, and
+Becky brought up the rear, carrying a third and wearing a clean apron
+and a new cap. Sara would have much preferred to enter in the usual way,
+but Miss Minchin had sent for her, and, after an interview in her
+private sitting-room, had expressed her wishes.
+
+"This is not an ordinary occasion," she said. "I do not desire that it
+should be treated as one."
+
+So Sara was led grandly in and felt shy when, on her entry, the big
+girls stared at her and touched each other's elbows, and the little ones
+began to squirm joyously in their seats.
+
+"Silence, young ladies!" said Miss Minchin, at the murmur which arose.
+"James, place the box on the table and remove the lid. Emma, put yours
+upon a chair. Becky!" suddenly and severely.
+
+Becky had quite forgotten herself in her excitement, and was grinning at
+Lottie, who was wriggling with rapturous expectation. She almost dropped
+her box, the disapproving voice so startled her, and her frightened,
+bobbing courtesy of apology was so funny that Lavinia and Jessie
+tittered.
+
+"It is not your place to look at the young ladies," said Miss Minchin.
+"You forget yourself. Put your box down."
+
+Becky obeyed with alarmed haste and hastily backed toward the door.
+
+"You may leave us," Miss Minchin announced to the servants with a wave
+of her hand.
+
+Becky stepped aside respectfully to allow the superior servants to pass
+out first. She could not help casting a longing glance at the box on the
+table. Something made of blue satin was peeping from between the folds
+of tissue-paper.
+
+"If you please, Miss Minchin," said Sara, suddenly, "mayn't Becky stay?"
+
+It was a bold thing to do. Miss Minchin was betrayed into something like
+a slight jump. Then she put her eye-glass up, and gazed at her show
+pupil disturbedly.
+
+"Becky!" she exclaimed. "My dearest Sara!"
+
+Sara advanced a step toward her.
+
+"I want her because I know she will like to see the presents," she
+explained. "She is a little girl, too, you know."
+
+Miss Minchin was scandalized. She glanced from one figure to the other.
+
+"My dear Sara," she said, "Becky is the scullery-maid.
+Scullery-maids--er--are not little girls."
+
+It really had not occurred to her to think of them in that light.
+Scullery-maids were machines who carried coal-scuttles and made fires.
+
+"But Becky is," said Sara. "And I know she would enjoy herself. Please
+let her stay--because it is my birthday."
+
+Miss Minchin replied with much dignity:
+
+"As you ask it as a birthday favor--she may stay. Rebecca, thank Miss
+Sara for her great kindness."
+
+Becky had been backing into the corner, twisting the hem of her apron in
+delighted suspense. She came forward, bobbing courtesies, but between
+Sara's eyes and her own there passed a gleam of friendly understanding,
+while her words tumbled over each other.
+
+"Oh, if you please, miss! I'm that grateful, miss! I did want to see the
+doll, miss, that I did. Thank you, miss. And thank you, ma'am,"--turning
+and making an alarmed bob to Miss Minchin,--"for letting me take the
+liberty."
+
+Miss Minchin waved her hand again--this time it was in the direction of
+the corner near the door.
+
+"Go and stand there," she commanded. "Not too near the young ladies."
+
+Becky went to her place, grinning. She did not care where she was sent,
+so that she might have the luck of being inside the room, instead of
+being down-stairs in the scullery, while these delights were going on.
+She did not even mind when Miss Minchin cleared her throat ominously
+and spoke again.
+
+"Now, young ladies, I have a few words to say to you," she announced.
+
+"She's going to make a speech," whispered one of the girls. "I wish it
+was over."
+
+Sara felt rather uncomfortable. As this was her party, it was probable
+that the speech was about her. It is not agreeable to stand in a
+school-room and have a speech made about you.
+
+"You are aware, young ladies," the speech began,--for it was a
+speech,--"that dear Sara is eleven years old to-day."
+
+"_Dear_ Sara!" murmured Lavinia.
+
+"Several of you here have also been eleven years old, but Sara's
+birthdays are rather different from other little girls' birthdays. When
+she is older she will be heiress to a large fortune, which it will be
+her duty to spend in a meritorious manner."
+
+"The diamond-mines," giggled Jessie, in a whisper.
+
+Sara did not hear her; but as she stood with her green-gray eyes fixed
+steadily on Miss Minchin, she felt herself growing rather hot. When Miss
+Minchin talked about money, she felt somehow that she always hated
+her--and, of course, it was disrespectful to hate grown-up people.
+
+"When her dear papa, Captain Crewe, brought her from India and gave her
+into my care," the speech proceeded, "he said to me, in a jesting way,
+'I am afraid she will be very rich, Miss Minchin.' My reply was, 'Her
+education at my seminary, Captain Crewe, shall be such as will adorn the
+largest fortune.' Sara has become my most accomplished pupil. Her French
+and her dancing are a credit to the seminary. Her manners--which have
+caused you to call her Princess Sara--are perfect. Her amiability she
+exhibits by giving you this afternoon's party. I hope you appreciate her
+generosity. I wish you to express your appreciation of it by saying
+aloud all together, 'Thank you, Sara!'"
+
+The entire school-room rose to its feet as it had done the morning Sara
+remembered so well.
+
+"Thank you, Sara!" it said, and it must be confessed that Lottie jumped
+up and down. Sara looked rather shy for a moment. She made a
+courtesy--and it was a very nice one.
+
+"Thank you," she said, "for coming to my party."
+
+"Very pretty, indeed, Sara," approved Miss Minchin. "That is
+what a real princess does when the populace applauds her.
+Lavinia,"--scathingly,--"the sound you just made was extremely like a
+snort. If you are jealous of your fellow-pupil, I beg you will express
+your feelings in some more ladylike manner. Now I will leave you to
+enjoy yourselves."
+
+The instant she had swept out of the room the spell her presence always
+had upon them was broken. The door had scarcely closed before every seat
+was empty. The little girls jumped or tumbled out of theirs; the older
+ones wasted no time in deserting theirs. There was a rush toward the
+boxes. Sara had bent over one of them with a delighted face.
+
+"These are books, I know," she said.
+
+The little children broke into a rueful murmur, and Ermengarde looked
+aghast.
+
+"Does your papa send you books for a birthday present?" she exclaimed.
+"Why, he's as bad as mine. Don't open them, Sara."
+
+"I like them," Sara laughed, but she turned to the biggest box. When she
+took out the Last Doll it was so magnificent that the children uttered
+delighted groans of joy, and actually drew back to gaze at it in
+breathless rapture.
+
+"She is almost as big as Lottie," some one gasped.
+
+Lottie clapped her hands and danced about, giggling.
+
+"She's dressed for the theatre," said Lavinia. "Her cloak is lined with
+ermine."
+
+"Oh!" cried Ermengarde, darting forward, "she has an opera-glass in her
+hand--a blue-and-gold one."
+
+"Here is her trunk," said Sara. "Let us open it and look at her things."
+
+[Illustration: The children crowded clamoring around her.]
+
+She sat down upon the floor and turned the key. The children crowded
+clamoring around her, as she lifted tray after tray and revealed their
+contents. Never had the school-room been in such an uproar. There
+were lace collars and silk stockings and handkerchiefs; there was a
+jewel-case containing a necklace and a tiara which looked quite as if
+they were made of real diamonds; there was a long sealskin and muff;
+there were ball dresses and walking dresses and visiting dresses; there
+were hats and tea-gowns and fans. Even Lavinia and Jessie forgot that
+they were too elderly to care for dolls, and uttered exclamations of
+delight and caught up things to look at them.
+
+"Suppose," Sara said, as she stood by the table, putting a large,
+black-velvet hat on the impassively smiling owner of all these
+splendors--"suppose she understands human talk and feels proud of being
+admired."
+
+"You are always supposing things," said Lavinia, and her air was very
+superior.
+
+"I know I am," answered Sara, undisturbedly. "I like it. There is
+nothing so nice as supposing. It's almost like being a fairy. If you
+suppose anything hard enough it seems as if it were real."
+
+"It's all very well to suppose things if you have everything," said
+Lavinia. "Could you suppose and pretend if you were a beggar and lived
+in a garret?"
+
+Sara stopped arranging the Last Doll's ostrich plumes, and looked
+thoughtful.
+
+"I _believe_ I could," she said. "If one was a beggar, one would have
+to suppose and pretend all the time. But it mightn't be easy."
+
+She often thought afterward how strange it was that just as she had
+finished saying this--just at that very moment--Miss Amelia came into
+the room.
+
+"Sara," she said, "your papa's solicitor, Mr. Barrow, has called to see
+Miss Minchin, and, as she must talk to him alone and the refreshments
+are laid in her parlor, you had all better come and have your feast now,
+so that my sister can have her interview here in the school-room."
+
+Refreshments were not likely to be disdained at any hour, and many
+pairs of eyes gleamed. Miss Amelia arranged the procession into decorum,
+and then, with Sara at her side heading it, she led it away, leaving
+the Last Doll sitting upon a chair with the glories of her wardrobe
+scattered about her; dresses and coats hung upon chair backs, piles of
+lace-frilled petticoats lying upon their seats.
+
+Becky, who was not expected to partake of refreshments, had the
+indiscretion to linger a moment to look at these beauties--it really was
+an indiscretion.
+
+"Go back to your work, Becky," Miss Amelia had said; but she had stopped
+to reverently pick up first a muff and then a coat, and while she stood
+looking at them adoringly, she heard Miss Minchin upon the threshold,
+and, being smitten with terror at the thought of being accused of taking
+liberties, she rashly darted under the table, which hid her by its
+table-cloth.
+
+Miss Minchin came into the room, accompanied by a sharp-featured, dry
+little gentleman, who looked rather disturbed. Miss Minchin herself also
+looked rather disturbed, it must be admitted, and she gazed at the dry
+little gentleman with an irritated and puzzled expression.
+
+She sat down with stiff dignity, and waved him to a chair.
+
+"Pray, be seated, Mr. Barrow," she said.
+
+Mr. Barrow did not sit down at once. His attention seemed attracted
+by the Last Doll and the things which surrounded her. He settled his
+eye-glasses and looked at them in nervous disapproval. The Last Doll
+herself did not seem to mind this in the least. She merely sat upright
+and returned his gaze indifferently.
+
+"A hundred pounds," Mr. Barrow remarked succinctly. "All expensive
+material, and made at a Parisian modiste's. He spent money lavishly
+enough, that young man."
+
+Miss Minchin felt offended. This seemed to be a disparagement of her
+best patron and was a liberty.
+
+Even solicitors had no right to take liberties.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Barrow," she said stiffly. "I do not
+understand."
+
+"Birthday presents," said Mr. Barrow in the same critical manner, "to a
+child eleven years old! Mad extravagance, I call it."
+
+Miss Minchin drew herself up still more rigidly.
+
+"Captain Crewe is a man of fortune," she said. "The diamond-mines
+alone--"
+
+Mr. Barrow wheeled round upon her.
+
+"Diamond-mines!" he broke out. "There are none! Never were!"
+
+Miss Minchin actually got up from her chair.
+
+"What!" she cried. "What do you mean?"
+
+"At any rate," answered Mr. Barrow, quite snappishly, "it would have
+been much better if there never had been any."
+
+"Any diamond-mines?" ejaculated Miss Minchin, catching at the back of a
+chair and feeling as if a splendid dream was fading away from her.
+
+"Diamond-mines spell ruin oftener than they spell wealth," said Mr.
+Barrow. "When a man is in the hands of a very dear friend and is not a
+business man himself, he had better steer clear of the dear friend's
+diamond-mines, or gold-mines, or any other kind of mines dear friends
+want his money to put into. The late Captain Crewe--"
+
+Here Miss Minchin stopped him with a gasp.
+
+"The _late_ Captain Crewe!" she cried out; "the _late_! You don't come
+to tell me that Captain Crewe is--"
+
+"He's dead, ma'am," Mr. Barrow answered with jerky brusqueness. "Died of
+jungle fever and business troubles combined. The jungle fever might not
+have killed him if he had not been driven mad by the business troubles,
+and the business troubles might not have put an end to him if the jungle
+fever had not assisted. Captain Crewe is dead!"
+
+Miss Minchin dropped into her chair again. The words he had spoken
+filled her with alarm.
+
+"What _were_ his business troubles?" she said. "What _were_ they?"
+
+"Diamond-mines," answered Mr. Barrow, "and dear friends--and ruin."
+
+Miss Minchin lost her breath.
+
+"Ruin!" she gasped out.
+
+"Lost every penny. That young man had too much money. The dear friend
+was mad on the subject of the diamond-mine. He put all his own money
+into it, and all Captain Crewe's. Then the dear friend ran away--Captain
+Crewe was already stricken with fever when the news came. The shock was
+too much for him. He died delirious, raving about his little girl--and
+didn't leave a penny."
+
+Now Miss Minchin understood, and never had she received such a blow in
+her life. Her show pupil, her show patron, swept away from the Select
+Seminary at one blow. She felt as if she had been outraged and robbed,
+and that Captain Crewe and Sara and Mr. Barrow were equally to blame.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," she cried out, "that he left _nothing_! That
+Sara will have no fortune! That the child is a beggar! That she is left
+on my hands a little pauper instead of an heiress?"
+
+Mr. Barrow was a shrewd business man, and felt it as well to make his
+own freedom from responsibility quite clear without any delay.
+
+"She is certainly left a beggar," he replied. "And she is certainly left
+on your hands, ma'am,--as she hasn't a relation in the world that we
+know of."
+
+Miss Minchin started forward. She looked as if she was going to open the
+door and rush out of the room to stop the festivities going on joyfully
+and rather noisily that moment over the refreshments.
+
+"It is monstrous!" she said. "She's in my sitting-room at this moment,
+dressed in silk gauze and lace petticoats, giving a party at my
+expense."
+
+"She's giving it at your expense, madam, if she's giving it," said Mr.
+Barrow, calmly. "Barrow & Skipworth are not responsible for anything.
+There never was a cleaner sweep made of a man's fortune. Captain Crewe
+died without paying _our_ last bill--and it was a big one."
+
+Miss Minchin turned back from the door in increased indignation. This
+was worse than any one could have dreamed of its being.
+
+"That is what has happened to me!" she cried. "I was always so sure of
+his payments that I went to all sorts of ridiculous expenses for the
+child. I paid the bills for that ridiculous doll and her ridiculous
+fantastic wardrobe. The child was to have anything she wanted. She has a
+carriage and a pony and a maid, and I've paid for all of them since the
+last cheque came."
+
+Mr. Barrow evidently did not intend to remain to listen to the story of
+Miss Minchin's grievances after he had made the position of his firm
+clear and related the mere dry facts. He did not feel any particular
+sympathy for irate keepers of boarding-schools.
+
+"You had better not pay for anything more, ma'am," he remarked, "unless
+you want to make presents to the young lady. No one will remember you.
+She hasn't a brass farthing to call her own."
+
+"But what am I to do?" demanded Miss Minchin, as if she felt it entirely
+his duty to make the matter right. "What am I to do?"
+
+"There isn't anything to do," said Mr. Barrow, folding up his
+eye-glasses and slipping them into his pocket. "Captain Crewe is dead.
+The child is left a pauper. Nobody is responsible for her but you."
+
+"I am not responsible for her, and I refuse to be made responsible!"
+
+Miss Minchin became quite white with rage.
+
+Mr. Barrow turned to go.
+
+"I have nothing to do with that, madam," he said uninterestedly. "Barrow
+& Skipworth are not responsible. Very sorry the thing has happened, of
+course."
+
+"If you think she is to be foisted off on me, you are greatly mistaken,"
+Miss Minchin gasped. "I have been robbed and cheated; I will turn her
+into the street!"
+
+If she had not been so furious, she would have been too discreet to say
+quite so much. She saw herself burdened with an extravagantly brought-up
+child whom she had always resented, and she lost all self-control.
+
+Mr. Barrow undisturbedly moved toward the door.
+
+"I wouldn't do that, madam," he commented; "it wouldn't look well.
+Unpleasant story to get about in connection with the establishment.
+Pupil bundled out penniless and without friends."
+
+He was a clever business man, and he knew what he was saying. He also
+knew that Miss Minchin was a business woman, and would be shrewd enough
+to see the truth. She could not afford to do a thing which would make
+people speak of her as cruel and hard-hearted.
+
+"Better keep her and make use of her," he added. "She's a clever child,
+I believe. You can get a good deal out of her as she grows older."
+
+"I will get a good deal out of her before she grows older!" exclaimed
+Miss Minchin.
+
+"I am sure you will, ma'am," said Mr. Barrow, with a little sinister
+smile. "I am sure you will. Good morning!"
+
+He bowed himself out and closed the door, and it must be confessed that
+Miss Minchin stood for a few moments and glared at it. What he had said
+was quite true. She knew it. She had absolutely no redress. Her show
+pupil had melted into nothingness, leaving only a friendless, beggared
+little girl. Such money as she herself had advanced was lost and could
+not be regained.
+
+And as she stood there breathless under her sense of injury, there fell
+upon her ears a burst of gay voices from her own sacred room, which had
+actually been given up to the feast. She could at least stop this.
+
+But as she started toward the door it was opened by Miss Amelia, who,
+when she caught sight of the changed, angry face, fell back a step in
+alarm.
+
+"What _is_ the matter, sister?" she ejaculated.
+
+Miss Minchin's voice was almost fierce when she answered:
+
+"Where is Sara Crewe?"
+
+Miss Amelia was bewildered.
+
+"Sara!" she stammered. "Why, she's with the children in your room, of
+course."
+
+"Has she a black frock in her sumptuous wardrobe?"--in bitter irony.
+
+"A black frock?" Miss Amelia stammered again. "A _black_ one?"
+
+"She has frocks of every other color. Has she a black one?"
+
+Miss Amelia began to turn pale.
+
+"No--ye-es!" she said. "But it is too short for her. She has only the
+old black velvet, and she has outgrown it."
+
+"Go and tell her to take off that preposterous pink silk gauze, and put
+the black one on, whether it is too short or not. She has done with
+finery!"
+
+Then Miss Amelia began to wring her fat hands and cry.
+
+"Oh, sister!" she sniffed. "Oh, sister! What _can_ have happened?"
+
+Miss Minchin wasted no words.
+
+"Captain Crewe is dead," she said. "He has died without a penny. That
+spoiled, pampered, fanciful child is left a pauper on my hands."
+
+Miss Amelia sat down quite heavily in the nearest chair.
+
+"Hundreds of pounds have I spent on nonsense for her. And I shall never
+see a penny of it. Put a stop to this ridiculous party of hers. Go and
+make her change her frock at once."
+
+"I?" panted Miss Amelia. "M-must I go and tell her now?"
+
+"This moment!" was the fierce answer. "Don't sit staring like a goose.
+Go!"
+
+Poor Miss Amelia was accustomed to being called a goose. She knew, in
+fact, that she was rather a goose, and that it was left to geese to do a
+great many disagreeable things. It was a somewhat embarrassing thing to
+go into the midst of a room full of delighted children, and tell the
+giver of the feast that she had suddenly been transformed into a little
+beggar, and must go up-stairs and put on an old black frock which was
+too small for her. But the thing must be done. This was evidently not
+the time when questions might be asked.
+
+She rubbed her eyes with her handkerchief until they looked quite red.
+After which she got up and went out of the room, without venturing to
+say another word. When her older sister looked and spoke as she had done
+just now, the wisest course to pursue was to obey orders without any
+comment. Miss Minchin walked across the room. She spoke to herself aloud
+without knowing that she was doing it. During the last year the story of
+the diamond-mines had suggested all sorts of possibilities to her. Even
+proprietors of seminaries might make fortunes in stocks, with the aid of
+owners of mines. And now, instead of looking forward to gains, she was
+left to look back upon losses.
+
+"The Princess Sara, indeed!" she said. "The child has been pampered as
+if she were a _queen_."
+
+She was sweeping angrily past the corner table as she said it, and the
+next moment she started at the sound of a loud, sobbing sniff which
+issued from under the cover.
+
+"What is that!" she exclaimed angrily. The loud, sobbing sniff was heard
+again, and she stooped and raised the hanging folds of the table-cover.
+
+"How _dare_ you!" she cried out. "How _dare_ you! Come out immediately!"
+
+It was poor Becky who crawled out, and her cap was knocked on one side,
+and her face was red with repressed crying.
+
+"If you please, 'm--it's me, mum," she explained. "I know I hadn't ought
+to. But I was lookin' at the doll, mum--an' I was frightened when you
+come in--an' slipped under the table."
+
+"You have been there all the time, listening," said Miss Minchin.
+
+"No, mum," Becky protested, bobbing courtesies. "Not listenin'--I
+thought I could slip out without your noticin', but I couldn't an' I had
+to stay. But I didn't listen, mum--I wouldn't for nothin'. But I
+couldn't help hearin'."
+
+Suddenly it seemed almost as if she lost all fear of the awful lady
+before her. She burst into fresh tears.
+
+"Oh, please, 'm," she said; "I dare say you'll give me warnin',
+mum,--but I'm so sorry for poor Miss Sara--I'm so sorry!"
+
+"Leave the room!" ordered Miss Minchin.
+
+Becky courtesied again, the tears openly streaming down her cheeks.
+
+"Yes, 'm; I will, 'm," she said, trembling; "but oh, I just wanted to
+arst you: Miss Sara--she's been such a rich young lady, an' she's been
+waited on, 'and and foot; an' what will she do now, mum, without no
+maid? If--if, oh please, would you let me wait on her after I've done my
+pots an' kettles? I'd do 'em that quick--if you'd let me wait on her now
+she's poor. Oh,"--breaking out afresh,--"poor little Miss Sara,
+mum--that was called a princess."
+
+Somehow, she made Miss Minchin feel more angry than ever. That the very
+scullery-maid should range herself on the side of this child--whom she
+realized more fully than ever that she had never liked--was too much.
+She actually stamped her foot.
+
+"No--certainly not," she said. "She will wait on herself, and on other
+people, too. Leave the room this instant, or you'll leave your place."
+
+Becky threw her apron over her head and fled. She ran out of the room
+and down the steps into the scullery, and there she sat down among her
+pots and kettles, and wept as if her heart would break.
+
+"It's exactly like the ones in the stories," she wailed. "Them pore
+princess ones that was drove into the world."
+
+Miss Minchin had never looked quite so still and hard as she did when
+Sara came to her, a few hours later, in response to a message she had
+sent her.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Even by that time it seemed to Sara as if the birthday party had either
+been a dream or a thing which had happened years ago, and had happened
+in the life of quite another little girl.
+
+Every sign of the festivities had been swept away; the holly had been
+removed from the school-room walls, and the forms and desks put back
+into their places. Miss Minchin's sitting-room looked as it always
+did--all traces of the feast were gone, and Miss Minchin had resumed
+her usual dress. The pupils had been ordered to lay aside their party
+frocks; and this having been done, they had returned to the school-room
+and huddled together in groups, whispering and talking excitedly.
+
+"Tell Sara to come to my room," Miss Minchin had said to her sister.
+"And explain to her clearly that I will have no crying or unpleasant
+scenes."
+
+"Sister," replied Miss Amelia, "she is the strangest child I ever saw.
+She has actually made no fuss at all. You remember she made none when
+Captain Crewe went back to India. When I told her what had happened, she
+just stood quite still and looked at me without making a sound. Her eyes
+seemed to get bigger and bigger, and she went quite pale. When I had
+finished, she still stood staring for a few seconds, and then her
+chin began to shake, and she turned round and ran out of the room and
+up-stairs. Several of the other children began to cry, but she did not
+seem to hear them or to be alive to anything but just what I was saying.
+It made me feel quite queer not to be answered; and when you tell
+anything sudden and strange, you expect people will say
+_something_--whatever it is."
+
+Nobody but Sara herself ever knew what had happened in her room after
+she had run up-stairs and locked her door. In fact, she herself scarcely
+remembered anything but that she walked up and down, saying over and
+over again to herself in a voice which did not seem her own:
+
+"My papa is dead! My papa is dead!"
+
+Once she stopped before Emily, who sat watching her from her chair, and
+cried out wildly:
+
+"Emily! Do you hear? Do you hear--papa is dead? He is dead in
+India--thousands of miles away."
+
+When she came into Miss Minchin's sitting-room in answer to her summons,
+her face was white and her eyes had dark rings around them. Her mouth
+was set as if she did not wish it to reveal what she had suffered and
+was suffering. She did not look in the least like the rose-colored
+butterfly child who had flown about from one of her treasures to the
+other in the decorated school-room. She looked instead a strange,
+desolate, almost grotesque little figure.
+
+She had put on, without Mariette's help, the cast-aside black-velvet
+frock. It was too short and tight, and her slender legs looked long and
+thin, showing themselves from beneath the brief skirt. As she had not
+found a piece of black ribbon, her short, thick, black hair tumbled
+loosely about her face and contrasted strongly with its pallor. She held
+Emily tightly in one arm, and Emily was swathed in a piece of black
+material.
+
+"Put down your doll," said Miss Minchin. "What do you mean by bringing
+her here?"
+
+"No," Sara answered. "I will not put her down. She is all I have. My
+papa gave her to me."
+
+She had always made Miss Minchin feel secretly uncomfortable, and she
+did so now. She did not speak with rudeness so much as with a cold
+steadiness with which Miss Minchin felt it difficult to cope--perhaps
+because she knew she was doing a heartless and inhuman thing.
+
+"You will have no time for dolls in future," she said. "You will have to
+work and improve yourself and make yourself useful."
+
+Sara kept her big, strange eyes fixed on her, and said not a word.
+
+"Everything will be very different now," Miss Minchin went on. "I
+suppose Miss Amelia has explained matters to you."
+
+"Yes," answered Sara. "My papa is dead. He left me no money. I am quite
+poor."
+
+"You are a beggar," said Miss Minchin, her temper rising at the
+recollection of what all this meant. "It appears that you have no
+relations and no home, and no one to take care of you."
+
+For a moment the thin, pale little face twitched, but Sara again said
+nothing.
+
+"What are you staring at?" demanded Miss Minchin, sharply. "Are you so
+stupid that you cannot understand? 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 out of charity."
+
+"I understand," answered Sara, in a low tone; and there was a sound as
+if she had gulped down something which rose in her throat. "I
+understand."
+
+"That doll," cried Miss Minchin, pointing to the splendid birthday gift
+seated near--"that ridiculous doll, with all her nonsensical,
+extravagant things--_I_ actually paid the bill for her!"
+
+Sara turned her head toward the chair.
+
+"The Last Doll," she said. "The Last Doll." And her little mournful
+voice had an odd sound.
+
+"The Last Doll, indeed!" said Miss Minchin. "And she is mine, not yours.
+Everything you own is mine."
+
+"Please take it away from me, then," said Sara. "I do not want it."
+
+If she had cried and sobbed and seemed frightened, Miss Minchin might
+almost have had more patience with her. She was a woman who liked to
+domineer and feel her power, and as she looked at Sara's pale little
+steadfast face and heard her proud little voice, she quite felt as if
+her might was being set at naught.
+
+"Don't put on grand airs," she said. "The time for that sort of thing is
+past. You are not a princess any longer. Your carriage and your pony
+will be sent away--your maid will be dismissed. You will wear your
+oldest and plainest clothes--your extravagant ones are no longer suited
+to your station. You are like Becky--you must work for your living."
+
+To her surprise, a faint gleam of light came into the child's eyes--a
+shade of relief.
+
+"Can I work?" she said. "If I can work it will not matter so much. What
+can I do?"
+
+"You can do anything you are told," was the answer. "You are a sharp
+child, and pick up things readily. If you make yourself useful I may let
+you stay here. You speak French well, and you can help with the younger
+children."
+
+"May I?" exclaimed Sara. "Oh, please let me! I know I can teach them. I
+like them, and they like me."
+
+"Don't talk nonsense about people liking you," said Miss Minchin. "You
+will have to do more than teach the little ones. You will run errands
+and help in the kitchen as well as in the school-room. If you don't
+please me, you will be sent away. Remember that. Now go."
+
+Sara stood still just a moment, looking at her. In her young soul, she
+was thinking deep and strange things. Then she turned to leave the
+room.
+
+"Stop!" said Miss Minchin. "Don't you intend to thank me?"
+
+Sara paused, and all the deep, strange thoughts surged up in her breast.
+
+"What for?" she said.
+
+"For my kindness to you," replied Miss Minchin. "For my kindness in
+giving you a home."
+
+Sara made two or three steps toward her. Her thin little chest heaved up
+and down, and she spoke in a strange, unchildishly fierce way.
+
+"You are not kind," she said. "You are _not_ kind, and it is _not_ a
+home." And she had turned and run out of the room before Miss Minchin
+could stop her or do anything but stare after her with stony anger.
+
+She went up the stairs slowly, but panting for breath, and she held
+Emily tightly against her side.
+
+"I wish she could talk," she said to herself. "If she could speak--if
+she could speak!"
+
+She meant to go to her room and lie down on the tiger-skin, with her
+cheek upon the great cat's head, and look into the fire and think and
+think and think. But just before she reached the landing Miss Amelia
+came out of the door and closed it behind her, and stood before it,
+looking nervous and awkward. The truth was that she felt secretly
+ashamed of the thing she had been ordered to do.
+
+"You--you are not to go in there," she said.
+
+"Not go in?" exclaimed Sara, and she fell back a pace.
+
+"That is not your room now," Miss Amelia answered, reddening a little.
+
+Somehow, all at once, Sara understood. She realized that this was the
+beginning of the change Miss Minchin had spoken of.
+
+"Where is my room?" she asked, hoping very much that her voice did not
+shake.
+
+"You are to sleep in the attic next to Becky."
+
+Sara knew where it was. Becky had told her about it. She turned, and
+mounted up two flights of stairs. The last one was narrow, and covered
+with shabby strips of old carpet. She felt as if she were walking away
+and leaving far behind her the world in which that other child, who no
+longer seemed herself, had lived. This child, in her short, tight old
+frock, climbing the stairs to the attic, was quite a different creature.
+
+When she reached the attic door and opened it, her heart gave a dreary
+little thump. Then she shut the door and stood against it and looked
+about her.
+
+[Illustration: She seldom cried. She did not cry now.]
+
+Yes, this was another world. The room had a slanting roof and was
+whitewashed. The whitewash was dingy and had fallen off in places. There
+was a rusty grate, an old iron bedstead, and a hard bed covered with a
+faded coverlet. Some pieces of furniture too much worn to be used
+down-stairs had been sent up. Under the skylight in the roof, which
+showed nothing but an oblong piece of dull gray sky, there stood an old
+battered red footstool. Sara went to it and sat down. She seldom cried.
+She did not cry now. She laid 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 draperies, not saying one word, not making one
+sound.
+
+And as she sat in this silence there came a low tap at the door--such a
+low, humble one that she did not at first hear it, and, indeed, was not
+roused until the door was timidly pushed open and a poor tear-smeared
+face appeared peeping round it. It was Becky's face, and Becky had been
+crying furtively for hours and rubbing her eyes with her kitchen apron
+until she looked strange indeed.
+
+"Oh, miss," she said under her breath. "Might I--would you allow
+me--jest to come in?"
+
+Sara lifted her head and looked at her. She tried to begin a smile, and
+somehow she could not. Suddenly--and it was all through the loving
+mournfulness of Becky's streaming eyes--her face looked more like a
+child's not so much too old for her years. She held out her hand and
+gave a little sob.
+
+"Oh, Becky," she said. "I told you we were just the same--only two
+little girls--just two little girls. You see how true it is. There's no
+difference now. I'm not a princess any more."
+
+Becky ran to her and caught her hand, and hugged it to her breast,
+kneeling beside her and sobbing with love and pain.
+
+"Yes, miss, you are," she cried, and her words were all broken.
+"Whats'ever 'appens to you--whats'ever--you'd be a princess all the
+same--an' nothin' couldn't make you nothin' different."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN THE ATTIC
+
+
+The first night she spent in her attic was a thing Sara never forgot.
+During its passing, she lived through a wild, unchildlike woe of which
+she never spoke to any one about her. There was no one who would have
+understood. It was, indeed, well for her that as she lay awake in
+the darkness her mind was forcibly distracted, now and then, by the
+strangeness of her surroundings. It was, perhaps, well for her that she
+was reminded by her small body of material things. If this had not been
+so, the anguish of her young mind might have been too great for a child
+to bear. But, really, while the night was passing she scarcely knew that
+she had a body at all or remembered any other thing than one.
+
+"My papa is dead!" she kept whispering to herself. "My papa is dead!"
+
+It was not until long afterward that she realized that her bed had been
+so hard that she turned over and over in it to find a place to rest,
+that the darkness seemed more intense than any she had ever known, and
+that the wind howled over the roof among the chimneys like something
+which wailed aloud. Then there was something worse. This was certain
+scufflings and scratchings and squeakings in the walls and behind the
+skirting boards. She knew what they meant, because Becky had described
+them. They meant rats and mice who were either fighting with each other
+or playing together. Once or twice she even heard sharp-toed feet
+scurrying across the floor, and she remembered in those after days, when
+she recalled things, that when first she heard them she started up in
+bed and sat trembling, and when she lay down again covered her head with
+the bedclothes.
+
+The change in her life did not come about gradually, but was made all at
+once.
+
+"She must begin as she is to go on," Miss Minchin said to Miss Amelia.
+"She must be taught at once what she is to expect."
+
+Mariette had left the house the next morning. The glimpse Sara caught
+of her sitting-room, as she passed its open door, showed her that
+everything had been changed. Her ornaments and luxuries had been
+removed, and a bed had been placed in a corner to transform it into a
+new pupil's bedroom.
+
+When she went down to breakfast she saw that her seat at Miss Minchin's
+side was occupied by Lavinia, and Miss Minchin spoke to her coldly.
+
+"You will begin your new duties, Sara," she said, "by taking your seat
+with the younger children at a smaller table. You must keep them quiet,
+and see that they behave well and do not waste their food. You ought to
+have been down earlier. Lottie has already upset her tea."
+
+That was the beginning, and from day to day the duties given to her
+were added to. She taught the younger children French and heard their
+other lessons, and these were the least of her labors. It was found
+that she could be made use of in numberless directions. She could be
+sent on errands at any time and in all weathers. She could be told to
+do things other people neglected. The cook and the housemaids took
+their tone from Miss Minchin, and rather enjoyed ordering about the
+"young one" who had been made so much fuss over for so long. They were
+not servants of the best class, and had neither good manners nor good
+tempers, and it was frequently convenient to have at hand some one on
+whom blame could be laid.
+
+During the first month or two, Sara thought that her willingness to do
+things as well as she could, and her silence under reproof, might soften
+those who drove her so hard. In her proud little heart she wanted them
+to see that she was trying to earn her living and not accepting charity.
+But the time came when she saw that no one was softened at all; and the
+more willing she was to do as she was told, the more domineering and
+exacting careless housemaids became, and the more ready a scolding cook
+was to blame her.
+
+If she had been older, Miss Minchin would have given her the bigger
+girls to teach and saved money by dismissing an instructress; but while
+she remained and looked like a child, she could be made more useful as a
+sort of little superior errand girl and maid of all work. An ordinary
+errand boy would not have been so clever and reliable. Sara could be
+trusted with difficult commissions and complicated messages. She could
+even go and pay bills, and she combined with this the ability to dust a
+room well and to set things in order.
+
+Her own lessons became things of the past. She was taught nothing, and
+only after long and busy days spent in running here and there at
+everybody's orders was she grudgingly allowed to go into the deserted
+school-room, with a pile of old books, and study alone at night.
+
+"If I do not remind myself of the things I have learned, perhaps I may
+forget them," she said to herself. "I am almost a scullery-maid, and if
+I am a scullery-maid who knows nothing, I shall be like poor Becky. I
+wonder if I could _quite_ forget and begin to drop my _h's_ and not
+remember that Henry the Eighth had six wives."
+
+One of the most curious things in her new existence was her changed
+position among the pupils. Instead of being a sort of small royal
+personage among them, she no longer seemed to be one of their number at
+all. She was kept so constantly at work that she scarcely ever had an
+opportunity of speaking to any of them, and she could not avoid seeing
+that Miss Minchin preferred that she should live a life apart from that
+of the occupants of the school-room.
+
+"I will not have her forming intimacies and talking to the other
+children," that lady said. "Girls like a grievance, and if she begins
+to tell romantic stories about herself, she will become an ill-used
+heroine, and parents will be given a wrong impression. It is better that
+she should live a separate life--one suited to her circumstances. I am
+giving her a home, and that is more than she has any right to expect
+from me."
+
+Sara did not expect much, and was far too proud to try to continue to
+be intimate with girls who evidently felt rather awkward and uncertain
+about her. The fact was that Miss Minchin's pupils were a set of dull,
+matter-of-fact young people. They were accustomed to being rich and
+comfortable, and as Sara's frocks grew shorter and shabbier and
+queerer-looking, and it became an established fact that she wore shoes
+with holes in them and was sent out to buy groceries and carry them
+through the streets in a basket on her arm when the cook wanted them in
+a hurry, they felt rather as if, when they spoke to her, they were
+addressing an under servant.
+
+"To think that she was the girl with the diamond-mines," Lavinia
+commented. "She does look like an object. And she's queerer than ever. I
+never liked her much, but I can't bear that way she has now of looking
+at people without speaking--just as if she was finding them out."
+
+"I am," said Sara, promptly, when she heard of this. "That's what I look
+at some people for. I like to know about them. I think about them over
+afterward."
+
+The truth was that she had saved herself annoyance several times by
+keeping her eye on Lavinia, who was quite ready to make mischief, and
+would have been rather pleased to have made it for the ex-show pupil.
+
+Sara never made any mischief herself, or interfered with any one. She
+worked like a drudge; she tramped through the wet streets, carrying
+parcels and baskets; she labored with the childish inattention of
+the little ones' French lessons; as she became shabbier and more
+forlorn-looking, she was told that she had better take her meals
+down-stairs; she was treated as if she was nobody's concern, and her
+heart grew proud and sore, but she never told any one what she felt.
+
+"Soldiers don't complain," she would say between her small, shut teeth.
+"I am not going to do it; I will pretend this is part of a war."
+
+But there were hours when her child heart might almost have broken with
+loneliness but for three people.
+
+The first, it must be owned, was Becky--just Becky. Throughout all that
+first night spent in the garret, she had felt a vague comfort in knowing
+that on the other side of the wall in which the rats scuffled and
+squeaked there was another young human creature. And during the nights
+that followed the sense of comfort grew. They had little chance to speak
+to each other during the day. Each had her own tasks to perform, and any
+attempt at conversation would have been regarded as a tendency to loiter
+and lose time.
+
+"Don't mind me, miss," Becky whispered during the first morning, "if I
+don't say nothin' polite. Some un 'd be down on us if I did. I _means_
+'please' an' 'thank you' an' 'beg pardon,' but I dassn't to take time to
+say it."
+
+But before daybreak she used to slip into Sara's attic and button her
+dress and give her such help as she required before she went down-stairs
+to light the kitchen fire. And when night came Sara always heard the
+humble knock at her door which meant that her handmaid was ready to
+help her again if she was needed. During the first weeks of her grief
+Sara felt as if she were too stupefied to talk, so it happened that some
+time passed before they saw each other much or exchanged visits. Becky's
+heart told her that it was best that people in trouble should be left
+alone.
+
+The second of the trio of comforters was Ermengarde, but odd things
+happened before Ermengarde found her place.
+
+When Sara's mind seemed to awaken again to the life about her, she
+realized that she had forgotten that an Ermengarde lived in the world.
+The two had always been friends, but Sara had felt as if she were years
+the older. It could not be contested that Ermengarde was as dull as she
+was affectionate. She clung to Sara in a simple, helpless way; she
+brought her lessons to her that she might be helped; she listened to her
+every word and besieged her with requests for stories. But she had
+nothing interesting to say herself, and she loathed books of every
+description. She was, in fact, not a person one would remember when one
+was caught in the storm of a great trouble, and Sara forgot her.
+
+It had been all the easier to forget her because she had been suddenly
+called home for a few weeks. When she came back she did not see Sara for
+a day or two, and when she met her for the first time she encountered
+her coming down a corridor with her arms full of garments which were to
+be taken down-stairs to be mended. Sara herself had already been taught
+to mend them. She looked pale and unlike herself, and she was attired
+in the queer, outgrown frock whose shortness showed so much thin black
+leg.
+
+Ermengarde was too slow a girl to be equal to such a situation. She
+could not think of anything to say. She knew what had happened, but,
+somehow, she had never imagined Sara could look like this--so odd and
+poor and almost like a servant. It made her quite miserable, and she
+could do nothing but break into a short hysterical laugh and
+exclaim--aimlessly and as if without any meaning:
+
+"Oh, Sara! is that you?"
+
+"Yes," answered Sara, and suddenly a strange thought passed through her
+mind and made her face flush.
+
+She held the pile of garments in her arms, and her chin rested upon the
+top of it to keep it steady. Something in the look of her
+straight-gazing eyes made Ermengarde lose her wits still more. She felt
+as if Sara had changed into a new kind of girl, and she had never known
+her before. Perhaps it was because she had suddenly grown poor and had
+to mend things and work like Becky.
+
+"Oh," she stammered. "How--how are you?"
+
+"I don't know," Sara replied. "How are you?"
+
+"I'm--I'm quite well," said Ermengarde, overwhelmed with shyness.
+Then spasmodically she thought of something to say which seemed more
+intimate. "Are you--are you very unhappy?" she said in a rush.
+
+Then Sara was guilty of an injustice. Just at that moment her torn heart
+swelled within her, and she felt that if any one was as stupid as that,
+one had better get away from her.
+
+"What do you think?" she said. "Do you think I am very happy?" and she
+marched past her without another word.
+
+In course of time she realized that if her wretchedness had not made her
+forget things, she would have known that poor, dull Ermengarde was not
+to be blamed for her unready, awkward ways. She was always awkward, and
+the more she felt, the more stupid she was given to being.
+
+But the sudden thought which had flashed upon her had made her
+over-sensitive.
+
+"She is like the others," she had thought. "She does not really want to
+talk to me. She knows no one does."
+
+So for several weeks a barrier stood between them. When they met by
+chance Sara looked the other way, and Ermengarde felt too stiff and
+embarrassed to speak. Sometimes they nodded to each other in passing,
+but there were times when they did not even exchange a greeting.
+
+"If she would rather not talk to me," Sara thought, "I will keep out of
+her way. Miss Minchin makes that easy enough."
+
+Miss Minchin made it so easy that at last they scarcely saw each other
+at all. At that time it was noticed that Ermengarde was more stupid than
+ever, and that she looked listless and unhappy. She used to sit in the
+window-seat, huddled in a heap, and stare out of the window without
+speaking. Once Jessie, who was passing, stopped to look at her
+curiously.
+
+"What are you crying for, Ermengarde?" she asked.
+
+"I'm not crying," answered Ermengarde, in a muffled, unsteady voice.
+
+"You are," said Jessie. "A great big tear just rolled down the bridge of
+your nose and dropped off at the end of it. And there goes another."
+
+"Well," said Ermengarde, "I'm miserable--and no one need interfere." And
+she turned her plump back and took out her handkerchief and boldly hid
+her face in it.
+
+That night, when Sara went to her attic, she was later than usual. She
+had been kept at work until after the hour at which the pupils went to
+bed, and after that she had gone to her lessons in the lonely
+school-room. When she reached the top of the stairs, she was surprised
+to see a glimmer of light coming from under the attic door.
+
+"Nobody goes there but myself," she thought quickly; "but some one has
+lighted a candle."
+
+Some one had, indeed, lighted a candle, and it was not burning in
+the kitchen candlestick she was expected to use, but in one of those
+belonging to the pupils' bedrooms. The some one was sitting upon the
+battered footstool, and was dressed in her night-gown and wrapped up in
+a red shawl. It was Ermengarde.
+
+"Ermengarde!" cried Sara. She was so startled that she was almost
+frightened. "You will get into trouble."
+
+Ermengarde stumbled up from her footstool. She shuffled across the attic
+in her bedroom slippers, which were too large for her. Her eyes and nose
+were pink with crying.
+
+"I know I shall--if I'm found out," she said. "But I don't care--I
+don't care a bit. Oh, Sara, please tell me. What _is_ the matter? Why
+don't you like me any more?"
+
+Something in her voice made the familiar lump rise in Sara's throat. It
+was so affectionate and simple--so like the old Ermengarde who had asked
+her to be "best friends." It sounded as if she had not meant what she
+had seemed to mean during these past weeks.
+
+"I do like you," Sara answered. "I thought--you see, everything is
+different now. I thought you--were different."
+
+Ermengarde opened her wet eyes wide.
+
+"Why, it was you who were different!" she cried. "You didn't want to
+talk to me. I didn't know what to do. It was you who were different
+after I came back."
+
+Sara thought a moment. She saw she had made a mistake.
+
+"I _am_ different," she explained, "though not in the way you think.
+Miss Minchin does not want me to talk to the girls. Most of them don't
+want to talk to me. I thought--perhaps--you didn't. So I tried to keep
+out of your way."
+
+"Oh, Sara," Ermengarde almost wailed in her reproachful dismay. And
+then after one more look they rushed into each other's arms. It must
+be confessed that Sara's small black head lay for some minutes on the
+shoulder covered by the red shawl. When Ermengarde had seemed to desert
+her, she had felt horribly lonely.
+
+Afterward they sat down upon the floor together, Sara clasping her knees
+with her arms, and Ermengarde rolled up in her shawl. Ermengarde looked
+at the odd, big-eyed little face adoringly.
+
+"I couldn't bear it any more," she said. "I dare say you could live
+without me, Sara; but I couldn't live without you. I was nearly _dead_.
+So to-night, when I was crying under the bedclothes, I thought all at
+once of creeping up here and just begging you to let us be friends
+again."
+
+"You are nicer than I am," said Sara. "I was too proud to try and make
+friends. You see, now that trials have come, they have shown that I am
+_not_ a nice child. I was afraid they would. Perhaps"--wrinkling her
+forehead wisely--"that is what they were sent for."
+
+"I don't see any good in them," said Ermengarde, stoutly.
+
+"Neither do I--to speak the truth," admitted Sara, frankly. "But I
+suppose there _might_ be good in things, even if we don't see it. There
+_might_"--doubtfully--"be good in Miss Minchin."
+
+Ermengarde looked round the attic with a rather fearsome curiosity.
+
+"Sara," she said, "do you think you can bear living here?"
+
+Sara looked round also.
+
+"If I pretend it's quite different, I can," she answered; "or if I
+pretend it is a place in a story."
+
+She spoke slowly. Her imagination was beginning to work for her. It had
+not worked for her at all since her troubles had come upon her. She had
+felt as if it had been stunned.
+
+"Other people have lived in worse places. Think of the Count of Monte
+Cristo in the dungeons of the Château d'If. And think of the people in
+the Bastille!"
+
+"The Bastille," half whispered Ermengarde, watching her and beginning
+to be fascinated. She remembered stories of the French Revolution which
+Sara had been able to fix in her mind by her dramatic relation of them.
+No one but Sara could have done it.
+
+A well-known glow came into Sara's eyes.
+
+"Yes," she said, hugging her knees. "That will be a good place to
+pretend about. I am a prisoner in the Bastille. I have been here for
+years and years--and years; and everybody has forgotten about me. Miss
+Minchin is the jailer--and Becky"--a sudden light adding itself to the
+glow in her eyes--"Becky is the prisoner in the next cell."
+
+She turned to Ermengarde, looking quite like the old Sara.
+
+"I shall pretend that," she said; "and it will be a great comfort."
+
+Ermengarde was at once enraptured and awed.
+
+"And will you tell me all about it?" she said. "May I creep up here at
+night, whenever it is safe, and hear the things you have made up in the
+day? It will seem as if we were more 'best friends' than ever."
+
+"Yes," answered Sara, nodding. "Adversity tries people, and mine has
+tried you and proved how nice you are."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MELCHISEDEC
+
+
+The third person in the trio was Lottie. She was a small thing and did
+not know what adversity meant, and was much bewildered by the alteration
+she saw in her young adopted mother. She had heard it rumored that
+strange things had happened to Sara, but she could not understand why
+she looked different--why she wore an old black frock and came into the
+school-room only to teach instead of to sit in her place of honor and
+learn lessons herself. There had been much whispering among the little
+ones when it had been discovered that Sara no longer lived in the rooms
+in which Emily had so long sat in state. Lottie's chief difficulty
+was that Sara said so little when one asked her questions. At seven
+mysteries must be made very clear if one is to understand them.
+
+"Are you very poor now, Sara?" she had asked confidentially the first
+morning her friend took charge of the small French class. "Are you as
+poor as a beggar?" She thrust a fat hand into the slim one and opened
+round, tearful eyes. "I don't want you to be as poor as a beggar."
+
+She looked as if she was going to cry, and Sara hurriedly consoled her.
+
+"Beggars have nowhere to live," she said courageously. "I have a place
+to live in."
+
+"Where do you live?" persisted Lottie. "The new girl sleeps in your
+room, and it isn't pretty any more."
+
+"I live in another room," said Sara.
+
+"Is it a nice one?" inquired Lottie. "I want to go and see it."
+
+"You must not talk," said Sara. "Miss Minchin is looking at us. She will
+be angry with me for letting you whisper."
+
+She had found out already that she was to be held accountable for
+everything which was objected to. If the children were not attentive, if
+they talked, if they were restless, it was she who would be reproved.
+
+But Lottie was a determined little person. If Sara would not tell her
+where she lived, she would find out in some other way. She talked to
+her small companions and hung about the elder girls and listened when
+they were gossiping; and acting upon certain information they had
+unconsciously let drop, she started late one afternoon on a voyage of
+discovery, climbing stairs she had never known the existence of, until
+she reached the attic floor. There she found two doors near each
+other, and opening one, she saw her beloved Sara standing upon an old
+table and looking out of a window.
+
+"Sara!" she cried, aghast. "Mamma Sara!" She was aghast because the
+attic was so bare and ugly and seemed so far away from all the world.
+Her short legs had seemed to have been mounting hundreds of stairs.
+
+Sara turned round at the sound of her voice. It was her turn to be
+aghast. What would happen now? If Lottie began to cry and any one
+chanced to hear, they were both lost. She jumped down from her table
+and ran to the child.
+
+"Don't cry and make a noise," she implored. "I shall be scolded if you
+do, and I have been scolded all day. It's--it's not such a bad room,
+Lottie."
+
+"Isn't it?" gasped Lottie, and as she looked round it she bit her lip.
+She was a spoiled child yet, but she was fond enough of her adopted
+parent to make an effort to control herself for her sake. Then, somehow,
+it was quite possible that any place in which Sara lived might turn out
+to be nice. "Why isn't it, Sara?" she almost whispered.
+
+Sara hugged her close and tried to laugh. There was a sort of comfort in
+the warmth of the plump, childish body. She had had a hard day and had
+been staring out of the windows with hot eyes.
+
+"You can see all sorts of things you can't see down-stairs," she said.
+
+"What sort of things?" demanded Lottie, with that curiosity Sara could
+always awaken even in bigger girls.
+
+"Chimneys--quite close to us--with smoke curling up in wreaths and
+clouds and going up into the sky,--and sparrows hopping about and
+talking to each other just as if they were people,--and other attic
+windows where heads may pop out any minute and you can wonder who they
+belong to. And it all feels as high up--as if it was another world."
+
+
+"Oh, let me see it!" cried Lottie. "Lift me up!"
+
+Sara lifted her up, and they stood on the old table together and leaned
+on the edge of the flat window in the roof, and looked out.
+
+[Illustration: The sparrows twittered and hopped about quite without
+fear.]
+
+Any one who has not done this does not know what a different world they
+saw. The slates spread out on either side of them and slanted down into
+the rain gutter-pipes. The sparrows, being at home there, twittered and
+hopped about quite without fear. Two of them perched on the chimney-top
+nearest and quarrelled with each other fiercely until one pecked the
+other and drove him away. The garret window next to theirs was shut
+because the house next door was empty.
+
+"I wish some one lived there," Sara said. "It is so close that if there
+was a little girl in the attic, we could talk to each other through the
+windows and climb over to see each other, if we were not afraid of
+falling."
+
+The sky seemed so much nearer than when one saw it from the street, that
+Lottie was enchanted. From the attic window, among the chimney-pots, the
+things which were happening in the world below seemed almost unreal. One
+scarcely believed in the existence of Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia and
+the school-room, and the roll of wheels in the square seemed a sound
+belonging to another existence.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" cried Lottie, cuddling in her guarding arm. "I like this
+attic--I like it! It is nicer than down-stairs!"
+
+"Look at that sparrow," whispered Sara. "I wish I had some crumbs to
+throw to him."
+
+"I have some!" came in a little shriek from Lottie. "I have part of a
+bun in my pocket; I bought it with my penny yesterday, and I saved a
+bit."
+
+When they threw out a few crumbs the sparrow jumped and flew away to an
+adjacent chimney-top. He was evidently not accustomed to intimates in
+attics, and unexpected crumbs startled him. But when Lottie remained
+quite still and Sara chirped very softly--almost as if she were a
+sparrow herself--he saw that the thing which had alarmed him represented
+hospitality, after all. He put his head on one side, and from his perch
+on the chimney looked down at the crumbs with twinkling eyes. Lottie
+could scarcely keep still.
+
+"Will he come? Will he come?" she whispered.
+
+"His eyes look as if he would," Sara whispered back. "He is thinking and
+thinking whether he dare. Yes, he will! Yes, he is coming!"
+
+He flew down and hopped toward the crumbs, but stopped a few inches away
+from them, putting his head on one side again, as if reflecting on the
+chances that Sara and Lottie might turn out to be big cats and jump on
+him. At last his heart told him they were really nicer than they looked,
+and he hopped nearer and nearer, darted at the biggest crumb with a
+lightning peck, seized it, and carried it away to the other side of his
+chimney.
+
+"Now he _knows_," said Sara. "And he will come back for the others."
+
+He did come back, and even brought a friend, and the friend went away
+and brought a relative, and among them they made a hearty meal over
+which they twittered and chattered and exclaimed, stopping every now
+and then to put their heads on one side and examine Lottie and Sara.
+Lottie was so delighted that she quite forgot her first shocked
+impression of the attic. In fact, when she was lifted down from the
+table and returned to earthly things, as it were, Sara was able to point
+out to her many beauties in the room which she herself would not have
+suspected the existence of.
+
+"It is so little and so high above everything," she said, "that it is
+almost like a nest in a tree. The slanting ceiling is so funny. See, you
+can scarcely stand up at this end of the room; and when the morning
+begins to come I can lie in bed and look right up into the sky through
+that flat window in the roof. It is like a square patch of light. If the
+sun is going to shine, little pink clouds float about, and I feel as if
+I could touch them. And if it rains, the drops patter and patter as if
+they were saying something nice. Then if there are stars, you can lie
+and try to count how many go into the patch. It takes such a lot. And
+just look at that tiny, rusty grate in the corner. If it was polished
+and there was a fire in it, just think how nice it would be. You see,
+it's really a beautiful little room."
+
+She was walking round the small place, holding Lottie's hand and making
+gestures which described all the beauties she was making herself see.
+She quite made Lottie see them, too. Lottie could always believe in the
+things Sara made pictures of.
+
+"You see," she said, "there could be a thick, soft blue Indian rug on
+the floor; and in that corner there could be a soft little sofa, with
+cushions to curl up on; and just over it could be a shelf full of books
+so that one could reach them easily; and there could be a fur rug before
+the fire, and hangings on the wall to cover up the whitewash, and
+pictures. They would have to be little ones, but they could be
+beautiful; and there could be a lamp with a deep rose-colored shade; and
+a table in the middle, with things to have tea with; and a little fat
+copper kettle singing on the hob; and the bed could be quite different.
+It could be made soft and covered with a lovely silk coverlet. It could
+be beautiful. And perhaps we could coax the sparrows until we made such
+friends with them that they would come and peck at the window and ask to
+be let in."
+
+"Oh, Sara!" cried Lottie; "I should like to live here!"
+
+When Sara had persuaded her to go down-stairs again, and, after setting
+her in her way, had come back to her attic, she stood in the middle of
+it and looked about her. The enchantment of her imaginings for Lottie
+had died away. The bed was hard and covered with its dingy quilt. The
+whitewashed wall showed its broken patches, the floor was cold and bare,
+the grate was broken and rusty, and the battered footstool, tilted
+sideways on its injured leg, the only seat in the room. She sat down on
+it for a few minutes and let her head drop in her hands. The mere fact
+that Lottie had come and gone away again made things seem a little
+worse--just as perhaps prisoners feel a little more desolate after
+visitors come and go, leaving them behind.
+
+"It's a lonely place," she said. "Sometimes it's the loneliest place in
+the world."
+
+She was sitting in this way when her attention was attracted by a slight
+sound near her. She lifted her head to see where it came from, and
+if she had been a nervous child she would have left her seat on the
+battered footstool in a great hurry. A large rat was sitting up on his
+hind quarters and sniffing the air in an interested manner. Some of
+Lottie's crumbs had dropped upon the floor and their scent had drawn him
+out of his hole.
+
+He looked so queer and so like a gray-whiskered dwarf or gnome that Sara
+was rather fascinated. He looked at her with his bright eyes, as if he
+were asking a question. He was evidently so doubtful that one of the
+child's queer thoughts came into her mind.
+
+"I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat," she mused. "Nobody likes
+you. People jump and run away and scream out, 'Oh, a horrid rat!' I
+shouldn't like people to scream and jump and say, 'Oh, a horrid Sara!'
+the moment they saw me. And set traps for me, and pretend they were
+dinner. It's so different to be a sparrow. But nobody asked this rat if
+he wanted to be a rat when he was made. Nobody said, 'Wouldn't you
+rather be a sparrow?'"
+
+She had sat so quietly that the rat had begun to take courage. He was
+very much afraid of her, but perhaps he had a heart like the sparrow
+and it told him that she was not a thing which pounced. He was very
+hungry. He had a wife and a large family in the wall, and they had had
+frightfully bad luck for several days. He had left the children crying
+bitterly, and felt he would risk a good deal for a few crumbs, so he
+cautiously dropped upon his feet.
+
+"Come on," said Sara; "I'm not a trap. You can have them, poor thing!
+Prisoners in the Bastille used to make friends with rats. Suppose I make
+friends with you."
+
+How it is that animals understand things I do not know, but it is
+certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is a language which is
+not made of words and everything in the world understands it. Perhaps
+there is a soul hidden in everything and it can always speak, without
+even making a sound, to another soul. But whatsoever was the reason,
+the rat knew from that moment that he was safe--even though he was a
+rat. He knew that this young human being sitting on the red footstool
+would not jump up and terrify him with wild, sharp noises or throw
+heavy objects at him which, if they did not fall and crush him, would
+send him limping in his scurry back to his hole. He was really a very
+nice rat, and did not mean the least harm. When he had stood on his
+hind legs and sniffed the air, with his bright eyes fixed on Sara, he
+had hoped that she would understand this, and would not begin by
+hating him as an enemy. When the mysterious thing which speaks without
+saying any words told him that she would not, he went softly toward
+the crumbs and began to eat them. As he did it he glanced every now
+and then at Sara, just as the sparrows had done, and his expression
+was so very apologetic that it touched her heart.
+
+She sat and watched him without making any movement. One crumb was very
+much larger than the others--in fact, it could scarcely be called a
+crumb. It was evident that he wanted that piece very much, but it lay
+quite near the footstool and he was still rather timid.
+
+"I believe he wants it to carry to his family in the wall," Sara
+thought. "If I do not stir at all, perhaps he will come and get it."
+
+She scarcely allowed herself to breathe, she was so deeply interested.
+The rat shuffled a little nearer and ate a few more crumbs, then he
+stopped and sniffed delicately, giving a side glance at the occupant
+of the footstool; then he darted at the piece of bun with something
+very like the sudden boldness of the sparrow, and the instant he had
+possession of it fled back to the wall, slipped down a crack in the
+skirting board, and was gone.
+
+"I knew he wanted it for his children," said Sara. "I do believe I could
+make friends with him."
+
+A week or so afterward, on one of the rare nights when Ermengarde found
+it safe to steal up to the attic, when she tapped on the door with the
+tips of her fingers Sara did not come to her for two or three minutes.
+There was, indeed, such a silence in the room at first that Ermengarde
+wondered if she could have fallen asleep. Then, to her surprise, she
+heard her utter a little, low laugh and speak coaxingly to some one.
+
+"There!" Ermengarde heard her say. "Take it and go home, Melchisedec! Go
+home to your wife!"
+
+Almost immediately Sara opened the door, and when she did so she found
+Ermengarde standing with alarmed eyes upon the threshold.
+
+"Who--who _are_ you talking to, Sara?" she gasped out.
+
+Sara drew her in cautiously, but she looked as if something pleased and
+amused her.
+
+"You must promise not to be frightened--not to scream the least bit, or
+I can't tell you," she answered.
+
+Ermengarde felt almost inclined to scream on the spot, but managed to
+control herself. She looked all round the attic and saw no one. And yet
+Sara had certainly been speaking _to_ some one. She thought of ghosts.
+
+"Is it--something that will frighten me?" she asked timorously.
+
+"Some people are afraid of them," said Sara. "I was at first,--but I am
+not now."
+
+"Was it--a ghost?" quaked Ermengarde.
+
+"No," said Sara, laughing. "It was my rat."
+
+Ermengarde made one bound, and landed in the middle of the little dingy
+bed. She tucked her feet under her night-gown and the red shawl. She did
+not scream, but she gasped with fright.
+
+"Oh! oh!" she cried under her breath. "A rat! A rat!"
+
+"I was afraid you would be frightened," said Sara. "But you needn't be.
+I am making him tame. He actually knows me and comes out when I call
+him. Are you too frightened to want to see him?"
+
+The truth was that, as the days had gone on and, with the aid of scraps
+brought up from the kitchen, her curious friendship had developed, she
+had gradually forgotten that the timid creature she was becoming
+familiar with was a mere rat.
+
+At first Ermengarde was too much alarmed to do anything but huddle in a
+heap upon the bed and tuck up her feet, but the sight of Sara's composed
+little countenance and the story of Melchisedec's first appearance began
+at last to rouse her curiosity, and she leaned forward over the edge of
+the bed and watched Sara go and kneel down by the hole in the skirting
+board.
+
+"He--he won't run out quickly and jump on the bed, will he?" she said.
+
+"No," answered Sara. "He's as polite as we are. He is just like a
+person. Now watch!"
+
+She began to make a low, whistling sound--so low and coaxing that it
+could only have been heard in entire stillness. She did it several
+times, looking entirely absorbed in it. Ermengarde thought she looked as
+if she were working a spell. And at last, evidently in response to it, a
+gray-whiskered, bright-eyed head peeped out of the hole. Sara had some
+crumbs in her hand. She dropped them, and Melchisedec came quietly forth
+and ate them. A piece of larger size than the rest he took and carried
+in the most businesslike manner back to his home.
+
+"You see," said Sara, "that is for his wife and children. He is very
+nice. He only eats the little bits. After he goes back I can always hear
+his family squeaking for joy. There are three kinds of squeaks. One kind
+is the children's, and one is Mrs. Melchisedec's, and one is
+Melchisedec's own."
+
+Ermengarde began to laugh.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she said. "You _are_ queer,--but you are nice."
+
+"I know I am queer," admitted Sara, cheerfully; "and I _try_ to be
+nice." She rubbed her forehead with her little brown paw, and a puzzled,
+tender look came into her face. "Papa always laughed at me," she said;
+"but I liked it. He thought I was queer, but he liked me to make up
+things. I--I can't help making up things. If I didn't, I don't believe
+I could live." She paused and glanced round the attic. "I'm sure I
+couldn't live here," she added in a low voice.
+
+Ermengarde was interested, as she always was. "When you talk about
+things," she said, "they seem as if they grew real. You talk about
+Melchisedec as if he was a person."
+
+"He _is_ a person," said Sara. "He gets hungry and frightened, just as
+we do; and he is married and has children. How do we know he doesn't
+think things, just as we do? His eyes look as if he was a person. That
+was why I gave him a name."
+
+She sat down on the floor in her favorite attitude, holding her knees.
+
+"Besides," she said, "he is a Bastille rat sent to be my friend. I can
+always get a bit of bread the cook has thrown away, and it is quite
+enough to support him."
+
+"Is it the Bastille yet?" asked Ermengarde, eagerly. "Do you always
+pretend it is the Bastille?"
+
+"Nearly always," answered Sara. "Sometimes I try to pretend
+it is another kind of place; but the Bastille is generally
+easiest--particularly when it is cold."
+
+Just at that moment Ermengarde almost jumped off the bed, she was so
+startled by a sound she heard. It was like two distinct knocks on the
+wall.
+
+"What is that?" she exclaimed.
+
+Sara got up from the floor and answered quite dramatically:
+
+"It is the prisoner in the next cell."
+
+"Becky!" cried Ermengarde, enraptured.
+
+"Yes," said Sara. "Listen; the two knocks meant, 'Prisoner, are you
+there?'"
+
+She knocked three times on the wall herself, as if in answer.
+
+"That means, 'Yes, I am here, and all is well.'"
+
+Four knocks came from Becky's side of the wall.
+
+"That means," explained Sara, "'Then, fellow-sufferer, we will sleep in
+peace. Good-night.'"
+
+Ermengarde quite beamed with delight.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she whispered joyfully. "It is like a story!"
+
+"It _is_ a story," said Sara. "_Everything's_ a story. You are a
+story--I am a story. Miss Minchin is a story."
+
+And she sat down again and talked until Ermengarde forgot that she was
+a sort of escaped prisoner herself, and had to be reminded by Sara
+that she could not remain in the Bastille all night, but must steal
+noiselessly down-stairs again and creep back into her deserted bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE INDIAN GENTLEMAN
+
+
+But it was a perilous thing for Ermengarde and Lottie to make
+pilgrimages to the attic. They could never be quite sure when Sara would
+be there, and they could scarcely ever be certain that Miss Amelia would
+not make a tour of inspection through the bedrooms after the pupils were
+supposed to be asleep. So their visits were rare ones, and Sara lived a
+strange and lonely life. It was a lonelier life when she was down-stairs
+than when she was in her attic. She had no one to talk to; and when she
+was sent out on errands and walked through the streets, a forlorn little
+figure carrying a basket or a parcel, trying to hold her hat on when
+the wind was blowing, and feeling the water soak through her shoes when
+it was raining, she felt as if the crowds hurrying past her made her
+loneliness greater. When she had been the Princess Sara, driving through
+the streets in her brougham, or walking, attended by Mariette, the sight
+of her bright, eager little face and picturesque coats and hats had
+often caused people to look after her. A happy, beautifully cared
+for little girl naturally attracts attention. Shabby, poorly dressed
+children are not rare enough and pretty enough to make people turn
+around to look at them and smile. No one looked at Sara in these days,
+and no one seemed to see her as she hurried along the crowded pavements.
+She had begun to grow very fast, and, as she was dressed only in such
+clothes as the plainer remnants of her wardrobe would supply, she knew
+she looked very queer, indeed. All her valuable garments had been
+disposed of, and such as had been left for her use she was expected to
+wear so long as she could put them on at all. Sometimes, when she passed
+a shop window with a mirror in it, she almost laughed outright on
+catching a glimpse of herself, and sometimes her face went red and she
+bit her lip and turned away.
+
+In the evening, when she passed houses whose windows were lighted up,
+she used to look into the warm rooms and amuse herself by imagining
+things about the people she saw sitting before the fires or about the
+tables. It always interested her to catch glimpses of rooms before the
+shutters were closed. There were several families in the square in which
+Miss Minchin lived, with which she had become quite familiar in a way of
+her own. The one she liked best she called the Large Family. She called
+it the Large Family not because the members of it were big,--for,
+indeed, most of them were little,--but because there were so many of
+them. There were eight children in the Large Family, and a stout, rosy
+mother, and a stout, rosy father, and a stout, rosy grandmother, 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 meet their papa and kiss him and dance around him and
+drag off his overcoat and look in the pockets for packages, or they were
+crowding about the nursery windows and looking out and pushing each
+other and laughing--in fact, they were always doing something enjoyable
+and suited to the tastes of a large family. Sara was quite fond of them,
+and had given them names out of books--quite romantic names. 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 Cholmondeley Montmorency; the little boy who
+could just stagger and who had such round legs was Sydney Cecil Vivian
+Montmorency; and then came Lilian Evangeline Maud Marion, Rosalind
+Gladys, Guy Clarence, Veronica Eustacia, and Claude Harold Hector.
+
+One evening a very funny thing happened--though, perhaps, in one sense
+it was not a funny thing at all.
+
+Several of the Montmorencys were evidently going to a children's party,
+and just as Sara was about to pass the door they were crossing the
+pavement to get into the carriage which was waiting for them. Veronica
+Eustacia and Rosalind Gladys, in white-lace frocks and lovely sashes,
+had just got in, and Guy Clarence, aged five, was following them. He was
+such a pretty fellow and had such rosy cheeks and blue eyes, and such
+a darling little round head covered with curls, that Sara forgot her
+basket and shabby cloak altogether--in fact, forgot everything but that
+she wanted to look at him for a moment. So she paused and looked.
+
+It was Christmas time, and the Large Family had been hearing many
+stories about children who were poor and had no mammas and papas to
+fill their stockings and take them to the pantomime--children who
+were, in fact, cold and thinly clad and hungry. In the stories, kind
+people--sometimes little boys and girls with tender hearts--invariably
+saw the poor children and gave them money or rich gifts, or took them
+home to beautiful dinners. Guy Clarence had been affected to tears that
+very afternoon by the reading of such a story, and he had burned with
+a desire to find such a poor child and give her a certain sixpence he
+possessed, and thus provide for her for life. An entire sixpence, he was
+sure, would mean affluence for evermore. As he crossed the strip of red
+carpet laid across the pavement from the door to the carriage, he had
+this very sixpence in the pocket of his very short man-o'-war trousers.
+And just as Rosalind Gladys got into the vehicle and jumped on to
+the seat in order to feel the cushions spring under her, he saw Sara
+standing on the wet pavement in her shabby frock and hat, with her old
+basket on her arm, looking at him hungrily.
+
+He thought that her eyes looked hungry because she had perhaps had
+nothing to eat for a long time. He did not know that they looked so
+because she was hungry for the warm, merry life his home held and his
+rosy face spoke of, and that she had a hungry wish to snatch him in her
+arms and kiss him. He only knew that she had big eyes and a thin face
+and thin legs and a common basket and poor clothes. So he put his hand
+in his pocket and found his sixpence and walked up to her benignly.
+
+"Here, poor little girl," he said. "Here is a sixpence. I will give it
+to you."
+
+Sara started, and all at once realized that she looked exactly like poor
+children she had seen, in her better days, waiting on the pavement to
+watch her as she got out of her brougham. And she had given them pennies
+many a time. Her face went red and then it went pale, and for a second
+she felt as if she could not take the dear little sixpence.
+
+"Oh, no!" she said. "Oh, no, thank you; I mustn't take it, indeed!"
+
+Her voice was so unlike an ordinary street child's voice and her manner
+was so like the manner of a well-bred little person that Veronica
+Eustacia (whose real name was Janet) and Rosalind Gladys (who was really
+called Nora) leaned forward to listen.
+
+But Guy Clarence was not to be thwarted in his benevolence. He thrust
+the sixpence into her hand.
+
+"Yes, you must take it, poor little girl!" he insisted stoutly. "You can
+buy things to eat with it. It is a whole sixpence!"
+
+There was something so honest and kind in his face, and he looked so
+likely to be heartbrokenly disappointed if she did not take it, that
+Sara knew she must not refuse him. To be as proud as that would be a
+cruel thing. So she actually put her pride in her pocket, though it must
+be admitted her cheeks burned.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "You are a kind, kind little darling thing." And
+as he scrambled joyfully into the carriage she went away, trying to
+smile, though she caught her breath quickly and her eyes were shining
+through a mist. She had known that she looked odd and shabby, but until
+now she had not known that she might be taken for a beggar.
+
+As the Large Family's carriage drove away, the children inside it were
+talking with interested excitement.
+
+"Oh, Donald" (this was Guy Clarence's name), Janet exclaimed alarmedly,
+"why did you offer that little girl your sixpence? I'm sure she is not
+a beggar!"
+
+"She didn't speak like a beggar!" cried Nora; "and her face didn't
+really look like a beggar's face!"
+
+"Besides, she didn't beg," said Janet. "I was so afraid she might be
+angry with you. You know, it makes people angry to be taken for beggars
+when they are not beggars."
+
+"She wasn't angry," said Donald, a trifle dismayed, but still firm. "She
+laughed a little, and she said I was a kind, kind little darling thing.
+And I was!"--stoutly. "It was my whole sixpence."
+
+Janet and Nora exchanged glances.
+
+"A beggar girl would never have said that," decided Janet. "She would
+have said, 'Thank yer kindly, little gentleman--thank yer, sir'; and
+perhaps she would have bobbed a courtesy."
+
+Sara knew nothing about the fact, but from that time the Large Family
+was as profoundly interested in her as she was in it. Faces used to
+appear at the nursery windows when she passed, and many discussions
+concerning her were held round the fire.
+
+"She is a kind of servant at the seminary," Janet said. "I don't believe
+she belongs to anybody. I believe she is an orphan. But she is not a
+beggar, however shabby she looks."
+
+And afterward she was called by all of them,
+"The-little-girl-who-is-not-a-beggar," which was, of course, rather a
+long name, and sounded very funny sometimes when the youngest ones said
+it in a hurry.
+
+Sara managed to bore a hole in the sixpence and hung it on an old bit
+of narrow ribbon round her neck. Her affection for the Large Family
+increased--as, indeed, her affection for everything she could love
+increased. She grew fonder and fonder of Becky, and she used to look
+forward to the two mornings a week when she went into the school-room to
+give the little ones their French lesson. Her small pupils loved her,
+and strove with each other for the privilege of standing close to her
+and insinuating their small hands into hers. It fed her hungry heart to
+feel them nestling up to her. She made such friends with the sparrows
+that when she stood upon the table, put her head and shoulders out of
+the attic window, and chirped, she heard almost immediately a flutter
+of wings and answering twitters, and a little flock of dingy town birds
+appeared and alighted on the slates to talk to her and make much of the
+crumbs she scattered. With Melchisedec she had become so intimate that
+he actually brought Mrs. Melchisedec with him sometimes, and now and
+then one or two of his children. She used to talk to him, and, somehow,
+he looked quite as if he understood.
+
+There had grown in her mind rather a strange feeling about Emily, who
+always sat and looked on at everything. It arose in one of her moments
+of great desolateness. She would have liked to believe or pretend to
+believe that Emily understood and sympathized with her. She did not like
+to own to herself that her only companion could feel and hear nothing.
+She used to put her in a chair sometimes and sit opposite to her on the
+old red footstool, and stare and pretend about her until her own eyes
+would grow large with something which was almost like fear--particularly
+at night when everything was so still, when the only sound in the attic
+was the occasional sudden scurry and squeak of Melchisedec's family in
+the wall. One of her "pretends" was that Emily was a kind of good witch
+who could protect her. Sometimes, after she had stared at her until she
+was wrought up to the highest pitch of fancifulness, she would ask her
+questions and find herself _almost_ feeling as if she would presently
+answer. But she never did.
+
+"As to answering, though," said Sara, trying to console herself, "I
+don't answer very often. I never answer when I can help it. When people
+are insulting you, there is nothing so good for them as not to say a
+word--just to look at them and _think_. Miss Minchin turns pale with
+rage when I do it, Miss Amelia looks frightened, and so do the girls.
+When you will not fly into a passion people know you are stronger than
+they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage, and
+they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said
+afterward. There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold
+it in--that's stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies. I
+scarcely ever do. Perhaps Emily is more like me than I am like myself.
+Perhaps she would rather not answer her friends, even. She keeps it all
+in her heart."
+
+But though she tried to satisfy herself with these arguments, she 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, she came in wet and hungry, and was sent out again because nobody
+chose to remember that she was only a child, and that her slim legs
+might be tired and her small body 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 mood, and when she had seen the girls sneering among themselves at
+her shabbiness--then she was not always able to comfort her sore, proud,
+desolate heart with fancies when Emily merely sat upright in her old
+chair and stared.
+
+One of these nights, when she came up to the attic cold and hungry, with
+a tempest raging in her young breast, Emily's stare seemed so vacant,
+her sawdust legs and arms so inexpressive, that Sara lost all control
+over herself. There was nobody but Emily--no one in the world. And there
+she sat.
+
+"I shall die presently," she said at first.
+
+Emily simply stared.
+
+"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 the cook sent me
+for, they would not give me any supper. Some men laughed at me because
+my old shoes made me slip down in the mud. I'm covered with mud now. And
+they laughed. Do you hear?"
+
+She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent face, and suddenly a
+sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand
+and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of
+sobbing,--Sara who never cried.
+
+"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
+_doll_!"
+
+Emily lay on 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 calm,
+even dignified. Sara hid her face in her arms. The rats in the wall
+began to fight and bite each other and squeak and scramble. Melchisedec
+was chastising some of his family.
+
+Sara's sobs gradually quieted themselves. It was so unlike her to break
+down that she was surprised at herself. After a while she raised her
+face and looked at Emily, who seemed to be gazing at her round the
+side of one angle, and, somehow, by this time actually with a kind of
+glassy-eyed sympathy. Sara bent and picked her up. Remorse overtook her.
+She even smiled at herself a very little smile.
+
+"You can't help being a doll," she said with a resigned sigh, "any more
+than Lavinia and Jessie can help not having any sense. We are not all
+made alike. Perhaps you do your sawdust best." And she kissed her and
+shook her clothes straight, and put her back upon her chair.
+
+She had wished very much that some one would take the empty house next
+door. She wished it because of the attic window which was so near hers.
+It seemed as if it would be so nice to see it propped open some day and
+a head and shoulders rising out of the square aperture.
+
+"If it looked a nice head," she thought, "I might begin by saying, 'Good
+morning,' and all sorts of things might happen. But, of course, it's not
+really likely that any one but under servants would sleep there."
+
+One morning, on turning the corner of the square after a visit to the
+grocer's, the butcher's, and the baker's, she saw, to her great delight,
+that during her rather prolonged absence, a van full of furniture had
+stopped before the next house, the front doors were thrown open, and men
+in shirt sleeves were going in and out carrying heavy packages and
+pieces of furniture.
+
+"It's taken!" she said. "It really _is_ taken! Oh, I do hope a nice head
+will look out of the attic window!"
+
+She would almost have liked to join the group of loiterers who had
+stopped on the pavement to watch the things carried in. She had an idea
+that if she could see some of the furniture she could guess something
+about the people it belonged to.
+
+"Miss Minchin's tables and chairs are just like her," she thought; "I
+remember thinking that the first minute I saw her, even though I was so
+little. I told papa afterward, and he laughed and said it was true. I am
+sure the Large Family have fat, comfortable arm-chairs and sofas, and I
+can see that their red-flowery wall-paper is exactly like them. It's
+warm and cheerful and kind-looking and happy."
+
+She was sent out for parsley to the greengrocer's later in the day, and
+when she came up the area steps her heart gave quite a quick beat of
+recognition. Several pieces of furniture had been set out of the van
+upon the pavement. There was a beautiful table of elaborately wrought
+teak-wood, and some chairs, and a screen covered with rich Oriental
+embroidery. The sight of them gave her a weird, homesick feeling. She
+had seen things so like them in India. One of the things Miss Minchin
+had taken from her was a carved teak-wood desk her father had sent her.
+
+"They are beautiful things," she said; "they look as if they ought to
+belong to a nice person. All the things look rather grand. I suppose it
+is a rich family."
+
+The vans of furniture came and were unloaded and gave place to others
+all the day. Several times it so happened that Sara had an opportunity
+of seeing things carried in. It became plain that she had been right
+in guessing that the new-comers were people of large means. All the
+furniture was rich and beautiful, and a great deal of it was Oriental.
+Wonderful rugs and draperies and ornaments were taken from the vans,
+many pictures, and books enough for a library. Among other things there
+was a superb god Buddha in a splendid shrine.
+
+"Some one in the family _must_ have been in India," Sara thought. "They
+have got used to Indian things and like them. I _am_ glad. I shall feel
+as if they were friends, even if a head never looks out of the attic
+window."
+
+When she was taking in the evening's milk for the cook (there was really
+no odd job she was not called upon to do), she saw something occur which
+made the situation more interesting than ever. The handsome, rosy man
+who was the father of the Large Family walked across the square in the
+most matter-of-fact manner, and ran up the steps of the next-door house.
+He ran up them as if he felt quite at home and expected to run up and
+down them many a time in the future. He stayed inside quite a long time,
+and several times came out and gave directions to the workmen, as if he
+had a right to do so. It was quite certain that he was in some intimate
+way connected with the new-comers and was acting for them.
+
+"If the new people have children," Sara speculated, "the Large Family
+children will be sure to come and play with them, and they _might_ come
+up into the attic just for fun."
+
+At night, after her work was done, Becky came in to see her
+fellow-prisoner and bring her news.
+
+"It's a' Nindian gentleman that's comin' to live next door, miss," she
+said. "I don't know whether he's a black gentleman or not, but he's a
+Nindian one. He's very rich, an' he's ill, an' the gentleman of the
+Large Family is his lawyer. He's had a lot of trouble, an' it's made him
+ill an' low in his mind. He worships idols, miss. He's an 'eathen an'
+bows down to wood an' stone. I seen a' idol bein' carried in for him to
+worship. Somebody had oughter send him a trac'. You can get a trac' for
+a penny."
+
+Sara laughed a little.
+
+"I don't believe he worships that idol," she said; "some people like to
+keep them to look at because they are interesting. My papa had a
+beautiful one, and he did not worship it."
+
+But Becky was rather inclined to prefer to believe that the new neighbor
+was "an 'eathen." It sounded so much more romantic than that he should
+merely be the ordinary kind of gentleman who went to church with a
+prayer-book. She sat and talked long that night of what he would be
+like, of what his wife would be like if he had one, and of what his
+children would be like if they had children. Sara saw that privately she
+could not help hoping very much that they would all be black, and would
+wear turbans, and, above all, that--like their parent--they would all be
+"'eathens."
+
+"I never lived next door to no 'eathens, miss," she said; "I should like
+to see what sort o' ways they'd have."
+
+It was several weeks before her curiosity was satisfied, and then it was
+revealed that the new occupant had neither wife nor children. He was a
+solitary man with no family at all, and it was evident that he was
+shattered in health and unhappy in mind.
+
+A carriage drove up one day and stopped before the house. When the
+footman dismounted from the box and opened the door the gentleman who
+was the father of the Large Family got out first. After him there
+descended a nurse in uniform, then came down the steps two men-servants.
+They came to assist their master, who, when he was helped out of the
+carriage, proved to be a man with a haggard, distressed face, and a
+skeleton body wrapped in furs. He was carried up the steps, and the
+head of the Large Family went with him, looking very anxious. Shortly
+afterward a doctor's carriage arrived, and the doctor went in--plainly
+to take care of him.
+
+"There is such a yellow gentleman next door, Sara," Lottie whispered at
+the French class afterward. "Do you think he is a Chinee? The geography
+says the Chinee men are yellow."
+
+"No, he is not Chinese," Sara whispered back; "he is very ill. Go on
+with your exercise, Lottie. '_Non, monsieur. Je n'ai pas le canif de mon
+oncle._'"
+
+That was the beginning of the story of the Indian gentleman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+RAM DASS
+
+
+There were fine sunsets even in the square, sometimes. One could only
+see parts of them, however, between the chimneys and over the roofs.
+From the kitchen windows one could not see them at all, and could only
+guess that they were going on because the bricks looked warm and the air
+rosy or yellow for a while, or perhaps one saw a blazing glow strike a
+particular pane of glass somewhere. There was, however, one place from
+which one could see all the splendor of them: the piles of red or gold
+clouds in the west; or the purple ones edged with dazzling brightness;
+or the little fleecy, floating ones, tinged with rose-color and looking
+like flights of pink doves scurrying across the blue in a great hurry if
+there was a wind. The place where one could see all this, and seem at
+the same time to breathe a purer air, was, of course, the attic window.
+When the square suddenly seemed to begin to glow in an enchanted way
+and look wonderful in spite of its sooty trees and railings, Sara knew
+something was going on in the sky; and when it was at all possible to
+leave the kitchen without being missed or called back, she invariably
+stole away and crept up the flights of stairs, and, climbing on the old
+table, got her head and body as far out of the window as possible. When
+she had accomplished this, she always drew a long breath and looked all
+round her. It used to seem as if she had all the sky and the world to
+herself. No one else ever looked out of the other attics. Generally the
+skylights were closed; but even if they were propped open to admit air,
+no one seemed to come near them. And there Sara would stand, sometimes
+turning her face upward to the blue which seemed so friendly and
+near,--just like a lovely vaulted ceiling,--sometimes watching the west
+and all the wonderful things that happened there: the clouds melting or
+drifting or waiting softly to be changed pink or crimson or snow-white
+or purple or pale dove-gray. Sometimes they made islands or great
+mountains enclosing lakes of deep turquoise-blue, or liquid amber, or
+chrysoprase-green; sometimes dark headlands jutted into strange, lost
+seas; sometimes slender strips of wonderful lands joined other wonderful
+lands together. There were places where it seemed that one could run or
+climb or stand and wait to see what next was coming--until, perhaps, as
+it all melted, one could float away. At least it seemed so to Sara, and
+nothing had ever been quite so beautiful to her as the things she saw as
+she stood on the table--her body half out of the skylight--the sparrows
+twittering with sunset softness on the slates. The sparrows always
+seemed to her to twitter with a sort of subdued softness just when these
+marvels were going on.
+
+There was such a sunset as this a few days after the Indian gentleman
+was brought to his new home; and, as it fortunately happened that the
+afternoon's work was done in the kitchen and nobody had ordered her to
+go anywhere or perform any task, Sara found it easier than usual to slip
+away and go up-stairs.
+
+She mounted her table and stood looking out. It was a wonderful moment.
+There were floods of molten gold covering the west, as if a glorious
+tide was sweeping over the world. A deep, rich yellow light filled the
+air; the birds flying across the tops of the houses showed quite black
+against it.
+
+"It's a Splendid one," said Sara, softly, to herself. "It makes me feel
+almost afraid--as if something strange was just going to happen. The
+Splendid ones always make me feel like that."
+
+She suddenly turned her head because she heard a sound a few yards away
+from her. It was an odd sound like a queer little squeaky chattering. It
+came from the window of the next attic. Some one had come to look at the
+sunset as she had. There was a head and part of a body emerging from
+the skylight, but it was not the head or body of a little girl or a
+housemaid; it was the picturesque white-swathed form and dark-faced,
+gleaming-eyed, white-turbaned head of a native Indian man-servant,--"a
+Lascar," Sara said to herself quickly,--and the sound she had heard came
+from a small monkey he held in his arms as if he were fond of it, and
+which was snuggling and chattering against his breast.
+
+As Sara looked toward him he looked toward her. The first thing she
+thought was that his dark face looked sorrowful and homesick. She felt
+absolutely sure he had come up to look at the sun, because he had seen
+it so seldom in England that he longed for a sight of it. She looked at
+him interestedly for a second, and then smiled across the slates. She
+had learned to know how comforting a smile, even from a stranger, may
+be.
+
+Hers was evidently a pleasure to him. His whole expression altered, and
+he showed such gleaming white teeth as he smiled back that it was as if
+a light had been illuminated in his dusky face. The friendly look in
+Sara's eyes was always very effective when people felt tired or dull.
+
+It was perhaps in making his salute to her that he loosened his hold on
+the monkey. He was an impish monkey and always ready for adventure, and
+it is probable that the sight of a little girl excited him. He suddenly
+broke loose, jumped on to the slates, ran across them chattering, and
+actually leaped on to Sara's shoulder, and from there down into her
+attic room. It made her laugh and delighted her; but she knew he must be
+restored to his master,--if the Lascar was his master,--and she wondered
+how this was to be done. Would he let her catch him, or would he be
+naughty and refuse to be caught, and perhaps get away and run off over
+the roofs and be lost? That would not do at all. Perhaps he belonged to
+the Indian gentleman, and the poor man was fond of him.
+
+She turned to the Lascar, feeling glad that she remembered still some of
+the Hindustani she had learned when she lived with her father. She
+could make the man understand. She spoke to him in the language he knew.
+
+"Will he let me catch him?" she asked.
+
+She thought she had never seen more surprise and delight than the dark
+face expressed when she spoke in the familiar tongue. The truth was that
+the poor fellow felt as if his gods had intervened, and the kind little
+voice came from heaven itself. At once Sara saw that he had been
+accustomed to European children. He poured forth a flood of respectful
+thanks. He was the servant of Missee Sahib. The monkey was a good monkey
+and would not bite; but, unfortunately, he was difficult to catch.
+He would flee from one spot to another, like the lightning. He was
+disobedient, though not evil. Ram Dass knew him as if he were his child,
+and Ram Dass he would sometimes obey, but not always. If Missee Sahib
+would permit Ram Dass, he himself could cross the roof to her room,
+enter the windows, and regain the unworthy little animal. But he was
+evidently afraid Sara might think he was taking a great liberty and
+perhaps would not let him come.
+
+But Sara gave him leave at once.
+
+"Can you get across?" she inquired.
+
+"In a moment," he answered her.
+
+"Then come," she said; "he is flying from side to side of the room as if
+he was frightened."
+
+Ram Dass slipped through his attic window and crossed to hers as
+steadily and lightly as if he had walked on roofs all his life. He
+slipped through the skylight and dropped upon his feet without a sound.
+Then he turned to Sara and salaamed again. The monkey saw him and
+uttered a little scream. Ram Dass hastily took the precaution of
+shutting the skylight, and then went in chase of him. It was not a very
+long chase. The monkey prolonged it a few minutes evidently for the mere
+fun of it, but presently he sprang chattering on to Ram Dass's shoulder
+and sat there chattering and clinging to his neck with a weird little
+skinny arm.
+
+Ram Dass thanked Sara profoundly. She had seen that his quick native
+eyes had taken in at a glance all the bare shabbiness of the room, but
+he spoke to her as if he were speaking to the little daughter of a
+rajah, and pretended that he observed nothing. He did not presume to
+remain more than a few moments after he had caught the monkey, and those
+moments were given to further deep and grateful obeisance to her in
+return for her indulgence. This little evil one, he said, stroking the
+monkey, was, in truth, not so evil as he seemed, and his master, who was
+ill, was sometimes amused by him. He would have been made sad if his
+favorite had run away and been lost. Then he salaamed once more and got
+through the skylight and across the slates again with as much agility as
+the monkey himself had displayed.
+
+When he had gone Sara stood in the middle of her attic and thought of
+many things his face and his manner had brought back to her. The sight
+of his native costume and the profound reverence of his manner stirred
+all her past memories. It seemed a strange thing to remember that
+she--the drudge whom the cook had said insulting things to an hour
+ago--had only a few years ago been surrounded by people who all treated
+her as Ram Dass had treated her; who salaamed when she went by, whose
+foreheads almost touched the ground when she spoke to them, who were her
+servants and her slaves. It was like a sort of dream. It was all over,
+and it could never come back. It certainly seemed that there was no
+way in which any change could take place. She knew what Miss Minchin
+intended that her future should be. So long as she was too young to be
+used as a regular teacher, she would be used as an errand girl and
+servant and yet expected to remember what she had learned and in some
+mysterious way to learn more. The greater number of her evenings she was
+supposed to spend at study, and at various indefinite intervals she was
+examined and knew she would have been severely admonished if she had
+not advanced as was expected of her. The truth, indeed, was that Miss
+Minchin knew that she was too anxious to learn to require teachers. Give
+her books, and she would devour them and end by knowing them by heart.
+She might be trusted to be equal to teaching a good deal in the course
+of a few years. This was what would happen: when she was older she would
+be expected to drudge in the school-room as she drudged now in various
+parts of the house; they would be obliged to give her more respectable
+clothes, but they would be sure to be plain and ugly and to make her
+look somehow like a servant. That was all there seemed to be to look
+forward to, and Sara stood quite still for several minutes and thought
+it over.
+
+Then a thought came back to her which made the color rise in her cheek
+and a spark light itself in her eyes. She straightened her thin little
+body and lifted her head.
+
+"Whatever comes," she said, "cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess
+in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be
+a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but 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 Widow Capet. She was a great deal more like a queen then
+than when she was so gay and everything was so 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."
+
+This was not a new thought, but quite an old one, by this time. It had
+consoled her through many a bitter day, and she had gone about the house
+with an expression in her face which Miss Minchin could not understand
+and which was a source of great annoyance to her, as it seemed as if the
+child were mentally living a life which held her above the rest of the
+world. It was as if she scarcely heard the rude and acid things said to
+her; or, if she heard them, did not care for them at all. Sometimes,
+when she was in the midst of some harsh, domineering speech, Miss
+Minchin would find the still, 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:
+
+"You don't know that you are saying these things to a princess, and
+that if I chose I could wave my hand and order you to execution. I only
+spare you because I _am_ a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, unkind,
+vulgar old thing, and don't know any better."
+
+This used to interest and amuse her more than anything else; and queer
+and fanciful as it was, she found comfort in it and it was a good thing
+for her. While the thought held possession of her, she could not be made
+rude and malicious by the rudeness and malice of those about her.
+
+"A princess must be polite," she said to herself.
+
+And so when the servants, taking their tone from their mistress, were
+insolent and ordered her about, she would hold her head erect and reply
+to them with a quaint civility which often made them stare at her.
+
+"She's got more airs and graces than if she come from Buckingham Palace,
+that young one," said the cook, chuckling a little sometimes; "I lose
+my temper with her often enough, but I will say she never forgets her
+manners. 'If you please, cook;' 'Will you be so kind, cook?' 'I beg your
+pardon, cook;' 'May I trouble you, cook?' She drops 'em about the
+kitchen as if they was nothing."
+
+The morning after the interview with Ram Dass and his monkey, Sara was
+in the school-room with her small pupils. Having finished giving them
+their lessons, she was putting the French exercise-books together and
+thinking, as she did it, of the various things royal personages in
+disguise were called upon to do: Alfred the Great, for instance, burning
+the cakes and getting his ears boxed by the wife of the neatherd. How
+frightened she must have been when she found out what she had done. If
+Miss Minchin should find out that she--Sara, whose toes were almost
+sticking out of her boots--was a princess--a real one! The look in her
+eyes was exactly the look which Miss Minchin most disliked. She would
+not have it; she was quite near her and was so enraged that she actually
+flew at her and boxed her ears--exactly as the neatherd's wife had boxed
+King Alfred's. It made Sara start. She wakened from her dream at the
+shock, and, catching her breath, stood still a second. Then, not knowing
+she was going to do it, she broke into a little laugh.
+
+"What are you laughing at, you bold, impudent child?" Miss Minchin
+exclaimed.
+
+It took Sara a few seconds to control herself sufficiently to remember
+that she was a princess. Her cheeks were red and smarting from the blows
+she had received.
+
+"I was thinking," she answered.
+
+"Beg my pardon immediately," said Miss Minchin.
+
+Sara hesitated a second before she replied.
+
+"I will beg your pardon for laughing, if it was rude," she said then;
+"but I won't beg your pardon for thinking."
+
+"What were you thinking?" demanded Miss Minchin. "How dare you think?
+What were you thinking?"
+
+Jessie tittered, and she and Lavinia nudged each other in unison. All
+the girls looked up from their books to listen. Really, it always
+interested them a little when Miss Minchin attacked Sara. Sara always
+said something queer, and never seemed the least bit frightened. She
+was not in the least frightened now, though her boxed ears were scarlet
+and her eyes were as bright as stars.
+
+"I was thinking," she answered grandly and politely, "that you did not
+know what you were doing."
+
+"That I did not know what I was doing?" Miss Minchin fairly gasped.
+
+"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--"
+
+She had the imagined future so clearly before her eyes that she spoke in
+a manner which had an effect even upon Miss Minchin. It almost seemed
+for the moment to her narrow, unimaginative mind that there must be some
+real power hidden behind this candid daring.
+
+"What?" she exclaimed. "Found out what?"
+
+"That I really was a princess," said Sara, "and could do
+anything--anything I liked."
+
+Every pair of eyes in the room widened to its full limit. Lavinia leaned
+forward on her seat to look.
+
+"Go to your room," cried Miss Minchin, breathlessly, "this instant!
+Leave the school-room! Attend to your lessons, young ladies!"
+
+Sara made a little bow.
+
+"Excuse me for laughing if it was impolite," she said, and walked out of
+the room, leaving Miss Minchin struggling with her rage, and the girls
+whispering over their books.
+
+"Did you see her? Did you see how queer she looked?" Jessie broke out.
+"I shouldn't be at all surprised if she did turn out to be something.
+Suppose she should!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL
+
+
+When one lives in a row of houses, it is interesting to think of the
+things which are being done and said on the other side of the wall of
+the very rooms one is living in. Sara was fond of amusing herself by
+trying to imagine the things hidden by the wall which divided the
+Select Seminary from the Indian gentleman's house. She knew that the
+school-room was next to the Indian gentleman's study, and she hoped that
+the wall was thick so that the noise made sometimes after lesson hours
+would not disturb him.
+
+"I am growing quite fond of him," she said to Ermengarde; "I should not
+like him to be disturbed. I have adopted him for a friend. You can do
+that with people you never speak to at all. You can just watch them,
+and think about them and be sorry for them, until they seem almost like
+relations. I'm quite anxious sometimes when I see the doctor call twice
+a day."
+
+"I have very few relations," said Ermengarde, reflectively, "and I'm
+very glad of it. I don't like those I have. My two aunts are always
+saying, 'Dear me, Ermengarde! You are very fat. You shouldn't eat
+sweets,' and my uncle is always asking me things like, 'When did Edward
+the Third ascend the throne?' and, 'Who died of a surfeit of lampreys?'"
+
+Sara laughed.
+
+"People you never speak to can't ask you questions like that," she said;
+"and I'm sure the Indian gentleman wouldn't even if he was quite
+intimate with you. I am fond of him."
+
+She had become fond of the Large Family because they looked happy; but
+she had become fond of the Indian gentleman because he looked unhappy.
+He had evidently not fully recovered from some very severe illness. In
+the kitchen--where, of course, the servants, through some mysterious
+means, knew everything--there was much discussion of his case. He was
+not an Indian gentleman really, but an Englishman who had lived in
+India. He had met with great misfortunes which had for a time so
+imperilled his whole fortune that he had thought himself ruined and
+disgraced forever. The shock had been so great that he had almost died
+of brain-fever; and ever since he had been shattered in health, though
+his fortunes had changed and all his possessions had been restored to
+him. His trouble and peril had been connected with mines.
+
+"And mines with diamonds in 'em!" said the cook. "No savin's of mine
+never goes into no mines--particular diamond ones"--with a side glance
+at Sara. "We all know somethin' of _them_."
+
+"He felt as my papa felt," Sara thought. "He was ill as my papa was; but
+he did not die."
+
+So her heart was more drawn to him than before. When she was sent out at
+night she used sometimes to feel quite glad, because there was always a
+chance that the curtains of the house next door might not yet be closed
+and she could look into the warm room and see her adopted friend. When
+no one was about she used sometimes to stop, and, holding to the iron
+railings, wish him good night as if he could hear her.
+
+"Perhaps you can _feel_ if you can't hear," was her fancy. "Perhaps kind
+thoughts reach people somehow, even through windows and doors and walls.
+Perhaps you feel a little warm and comforted, and don't know why, when
+I am standing here in the cold and hoping you will get well and happy
+again. I am so sorry for you," she would whisper in an intense little
+voice. "I wish you had a 'Little Missus' who could pet you as I used
+to pet papa when he had a headache. I should like to be your 'Little
+Missus' myself, poor dear! Good night--good night. God bless you!"
+
+She would go away, feeling quite comforted and a little warmer herself.
+Her sympathy was so strong that it seemed as if it _must_ reach him
+somehow as he sat alone in his arm-chair by the fire, nearly always in a
+great dressing-gown, and nearly always with his forehead resting in his
+hand as he gazed hopelessly into the fire. He looked to Sara like a man
+who had a trouble on his mind still, not merely like one whose troubles
+lay all in the past.
+
+"He always seems as if he were thinking of something that hurts him
+_now_," she said to herself; "but he has got his money back and he will
+get over his brain-fever in time, so he ought not to look like that. I
+wonder if there is something else."
+
+If there was something else,--something even servants did not hear
+of,--she could not help believing that the father of the Large Family
+knew it--the gentleman she called Mr. Montmorency. Mr. Montmorency went
+to see him often, and Mrs. Montmorency and all the little Montmorencys
+went, too, though less often. He seemed particularly fond of the two
+elder little girls--the Janet and Nora who had been so alarmed when
+their small brother Donald had given Sara his sixpence. He had, in fact,
+a very tender place in his heart for all children, and particularly for
+little girls. Janet and Nora were as fond of him as he was of them, and
+looked forward with the greatest pleasure to the afternoons when they
+were allowed to cross the square and make their well-behaved little
+visits to him. They were extremely decorous little visits because he was
+an invalid.
+
+"He is a poor thing," said Janet, "and he says we cheer him up. We try
+to cheer him up very quietly."
+
+Janet was the head of the family, and kept the rest of it in order. It
+was she who decided when it was discreet to ask the Indian gentleman to
+tell stories about India, and it was she who saw when he was tired and
+it was the time to steal quietly away and tell Ram Dass to go to him.
+They were very fond of Ram Dass. He could have told any number of
+stories if he had been able to speak anything but Hindustani. The Indian
+gentleman's real name was Mr. Carrisford, and Janet told Mr. Carrisford
+about the encounter with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. He was
+very much interested, and all the more so when he heard from Ram Dass of
+the adventure of the monkey on the roof. Ram Dass made for him a very
+clear picture of the attic and its desolateness--of the bare floor and
+broken plaster, the rusty, empty grate, and the hard, narrow bed.
+
+"Carmichael," he said to the father of the Large Family, after he had
+heard this description; "I wonder how many of the attics in this square
+are like that one, and how many wretched little servant girls sleep on
+such beds, while I toss on my down pillows, loaded and harassed by
+wealth that is, most of it--not mine."
+
+"My dear fellow," Mr. Carmichael answered cheerily, "the sooner you
+cease tormenting yourself the better it will be for you. If you
+possessed all the wealth of all the Indies, you could not set right all
+the discomforts in the world, and if you began to refurnish all the
+attics in this square, there would still remain all the attics in all
+the other squares and streets to put in order. And there you are!"
+
+Mr. Carrisford sat and bit his nails as he looked into the glowing bed
+of coals in the grate.
+
+"Do you suppose," he said slowly, after a pause--"do you think it is
+possible that the other child--the child I never cease thinking of, I
+believe--could be--could _possibly_ be reduced to any such condition as
+the poor little soul next door?"
+
+Mr. Carmichael looked at him uneasily. He knew that the worst thing the
+man could do for himself, for his reason and his health, was to begin to
+think in this particular way of this particular subject.
+
+"If the child at Madame Pascal's school in Paris was the one you are in
+search of," he answered soothingly, "she would seem to be in the hands
+of people who can afford to take care of her. They adopted her because
+she had been the favorite companion of their little daughter who died.
+They had no other children, and Madame Pascal said that they were
+extremely well-to-do Russians."
+
+"And the wretched woman actually did not know where they had taken her!"
+exclaimed Mr. Carrisford.
+
+Mr. Carmichael shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"She was a shrewd, worldly Frenchwoman, and was evidently only too glad
+to get the child so comfortably off her hands when the father's death
+left her totally unprovided for. Women of her type do not trouble
+themselves about the futures of children who might prove burdens. The
+adopted parents apparently disappeared and left no trace."
+
+"But you say '_if_' the child was the one I am in search of. You say
+'if.' We are not sure. There was a difference in the name."
+
+"Madame Pascal pronounced it as if it were Carew instead of Crewe,--but
+that might be merely a matter of pronunciation. The circumstances were
+curiously similar. An English officer in India had placed his motherless
+little girl at the school. He had died suddenly after losing his
+fortune." Mr. Carmichael paused a moment, as if a new thought had
+occurred to him. "Are you _sure_ the child was left at a school in
+Paris? Are you sure it was Paris?"
+
+"My dear fellow," broke forth Carrisford, with restless bitterness, "I
+am _sure_ of nothing. I never saw either the child or her mother. Ralph
+Crewe and I loved each other as boys, but we had not met since our
+school-days, until we met in India. I was absorbed in the magnificent
+promise of the mines. He became absorbed, too. The whole thing was so
+huge and glittering that we half lost our heads. When we met we scarcely
+spoke of anything else. I only knew that the child had been sent to
+school somewhere. I do not even remember, now, _how_ I knew it."
+
+He was beginning to be excited. He always became excited when his still
+weakened brain was stirred by memories of the catastrophes of the past.
+
+Mr. Carmichael watched him anxiously. It was necessary to ask some
+questions, but they must be put quietly and with caution.
+
+"But you had reason to think the school _was_ in Paris?"
+
+"Yes," was the answer, "because her mother was a Frenchwoman, and I had
+heard that she wished her child to be educated in Paris. It seemed only
+likely that she would be there."
+
+"Yes," Mr. Carmichael said, "it seems more than probable."
+
+The Indian gentleman leaned forward and struck the table with a long,
+wasted hand.
+
+"Carmichael," he said, "I _must_ find her. If she is alive, she is
+somewhere. If she is friendless and penniless, it is through my fault.
+How is a man to get back his nerve with a thing like that on his mind?
+This sudden change of luck at the mines has made realities of all our
+most fantastic dreams, and poor Crewe's child may be begging in the
+street!"
+
+"No, no," said Carmichael. "Try to be calm. Console yourself with the
+fact that when she is found you have a fortune to hand over to her."
+
+"Why was I not man enough to stand my ground when things looked black?"
+Carrisford groaned in petulant misery. "I believe I should have stood my
+ground if I had not been responsible for other people's money as well as
+my own. Poor Crewe had put into the scheme every penny that he owned. He
+trusted me--he _loved_ me. And he died thinking I had ruined him--I--Tom
+Carrisford, who played cricket at Eton with him. What a villain he must
+have thought me!"
+
+"Don't reproach yourself so bitterly."
+
+"I don't reproach myself because the speculation threatened to fail--I
+reproach myself for losing my courage. I ran away like a swindler and a
+thief, because I could not face my best friend and tell him I had ruined
+him and his child."
+
+The good-hearted father of the Large Family put his hand on his shoulder
+comfortingly.
+
+"You ran away because your brain had given way under the strain of
+mental torture," he said. "You were half delirious already. If you
+had not been you would have stayed and fought it out. You were in a
+hospital, strapped down in bed, raving with brain-fever, two days after
+you left the place. Remember that."
+
+Carrisford dropped his forehead in his hands.
+
+"Good God! Yes," he said. "I was driven mad with dread and horror. I had
+not slept for weeks. The night I staggered out of my house all the air
+seemed full of hideous things mocking and mouthing at me."
+
+"That is explanation enough in itself," said Mr. Carmichael. "How could
+a man on the verge of brain-fever judge sanely!"
+
+Carrisford shook his drooping head.
+
+"And when I returned to consciousness poor Crewe was dead--and buried.
+And I seemed to remember nothing. I did not remember the child for
+months and months. Even when I began to recall her existence everything
+seemed in a sort of haze."
+
+He stopped a moment and rubbed his forehead. "It sometimes seems so now
+when I try to remember. Surely I must sometime have heard Crewe speak of
+the school she was sent to. Don't you think so?"
+
+"He might not have spoken of it definitely. You never seem even to have
+heard her real name."
+
+"He used to call her by an odd pet name he had invented. He called her
+his 'Little Missus.' But the wretched mines drove everything else out
+of our heads. We talked of nothing else. If he spoke of the school, I
+forgot--I forgot. And now I shall never remember."
+
+"Come, come," said Carmichael. "We shall find her yet. We will continue
+to search for Madame Pascal's good-natured Russians. She seemed to have
+a vague idea that they lived in Moscow. We will take that as a clue. I
+will go to Moscow."
+
+"If I were able to travel, I would go with you," said Carrisford; "but I
+can only sit here wrapped in furs and stare at the fire. And when I look
+into it I seem to see Crewe's gay young face gazing back at me. He looks
+as if he were asking me a question. Sometimes I dream of him at night,
+and he always stands before me and asks the same question in words. Can
+you guess what he says, Carmichael?"
+
+Mr. Carmichael answered him in a rather low voice.
+
+"Not exactly," he said.
+
+"He always says, 'Tom, old man--Tom--where is the Little Missus?'" He
+caught at Carmichael's hand and clung to it. "I must be able to answer
+him--I must!" he said. "Help me to find her. Help me."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the other side of the wall Sara was sitting in her garret talking to
+Melchisedec, who had come out for his evening meal.
+
+"It has been hard to be a princess to-day, Melchisedec," she said. "It
+has been harder than usual. It gets harder as the weather grows colder
+and the streets get more sloppy. When Lavinia laughed at my muddy skirt
+as I passed her in the hall, I thought of something to say all in a
+flash--and I only just stopped myself in time. You can't sneer back at
+people like that--if you are a princess. But you have to bite your
+tongue to hold yourself in. I bit mine. It was a cold afternoon,
+Melchisedec. And it's a cold night."
+
+Quite suddenly she put her black head down in her arms, as she often did
+when she was alone.
+
+"Oh, papa," she whispered, "what a long time it seems since I was your
+'Little Missus'!"
+
+This was what happened that day on both sides of the wall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+ONE OF THE POPULACE
+
+
+The winter was a wretched one. There were days on which Sara tramped
+through snow when she went on her errands; there were worse days when
+the snow melted and combined itself with mud to form slush; there were
+others when the fog was so thick that the lamps in the street were
+lighted all day and London looked as it had looked the afternoon,
+several years ago, when the cab had driven through the thoroughfares
+with Sara tucked up on its seat, leaning against her father's shoulder.
+On such days the windows of the house of the Large Family always looked
+delightfully cosey and alluring, and the study in which the Indian
+gentleman sat glowed with warmth and rich color. But the attic was
+dismal beyond words. There were no longer sunsets or sunrises to look
+at, and scarcely ever any stars, it seemed to Sara. The clouds hung low
+over the skylight and were either gray or mud-color, or dropping heavy
+rain. At four o'clock in the afternoon, even when there was no special
+fog, the daylight was at an end. If it was necessary to go to her attic
+for anything, Sara was obliged to light a candle. The women in the
+kitchen were depressed, and that made them more ill-tempered than ever.
+Becky was driven like a little slave.
+
+"'T warn't for you, miss," she said hoarsely to Sara one night when she
+had crept into the attic--"'t warn't for you, an' the Bastille, an'
+bein' the prisoner in the next cell, I should die. That there does seem
+real now, doesn't it? The missus is more like the head jailer every day
+she lives. I can jest see them big keys you say she carries. The
+cook she's like one of the under-jailers. Tell me some more, please,
+miss--tell me about the subt'ranean passage we've dug under the walls."
+
+"I'll tell you something warmer," shivered Sara. "Get your coverlet and
+wrap it round you, and I'll get mine, and we will huddle close together
+on the bed, and I'll tell you about the tropical forest where the Indian
+gentleman's monkey used to live. When I see him sitting on the table
+near the window and looking out into the street with that mournful
+expression, I always feel sure he is thinking about the tropical forest
+where he used to swing by his tail from cocoanut-trees. I wonder who
+caught him, and if he left a family behind who had depended on him for
+cocoanuts."
+
+"That is warmer, miss," said Becky, gratefully; "but, someways, even the
+Bastille is sort of heatin' when you gets to tellin' about it."
+
+"That is because it makes you think of something else," said Sara,
+wrapping the coverlet round her until only her small dark face was to
+be seen looking out of it. "I've noticed this. What you have to do
+with your mind, when your body is miserable, is to make it think of
+something else."
+
+"Can you do it, miss?" faltered Becky, regarding her with admiring eyes.
+
+Sara knitted her brows a moment.
+
+"Sometimes I _can_ and sometimes I can't," she said stoutly. "But when
+I can I'm all right. And what I believe is that we always could--if
+we practised enough. I've been practising a good deal lately, and
+it's beginning to be easier than it used to be. When things are
+horrible--just horrible--I think as hard as ever I can of being a
+princess. I say to myself, 'I am a princess, and I am a fairy one, and
+because I am a fairy nothing can hurt me or make me uncomfortable.'
+You don't know how it makes you forget,"--with a laugh.
+
+She had many opportunities of making her mind think of something else,
+and many opportunities of proving to herself whether or not she was a
+princess. But one of the strongest tests she was ever put to came on a
+certain dreadful day which, she often thought afterward, would never
+quite fade out of her memory even in the years to come.
+
+For several days it had rained continuously; the streets were chilly and
+sloppy and full of dreary, cold mist; there was mud everywhere,--sticky
+London mud,--and over everything the pall of drizzle and fog. 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
+downtrodden shoes were so wet that they could not hold any more water.
+Added to this, she had been deprived of her dinner, because Miss Minchin
+had chosen to punish her. She was so cold and hungry and tired that her
+face began to have a pinched look, and now and then some kind-hearted
+person passing her in the street glanced at her with sudden sympathy.
+But she did not know that. She hurried on, trying to make her mind think
+of something else. It was really very necessary. Her way of doing it was
+to "pretend" and "suppose" with all the strength that was left in her.
+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, and as the muddy water
+squelched through her broken shoes and the wind seemed trying to drag
+her thin jacket from her, she talked to herself as she walked, though
+she did not speak aloud or even move her lips.
+
+"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 eat
+them all without stopping."
+
+Some very odd things happen in this world sometimes.
+
+It certainly was an odd thing that happened to Sara. She had to cross
+the street just when 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. It
+was actually a piece of silver--a tiny piece trodden upon by many feet,
+but still with spirit enough left to shine a little. Not quite a
+sixpence, but the next thing to it--a fourpenny piece.
+
+In one second it was in her cold little red-and-blue hand.
+
+"Oh," she gasped, "it is true! It is true!"
+
+And then, if you will believe me, she looked straight at the shop
+directly facing her. And it was a baker's shop, and a cheerful, stout,
+motherly woman with rosy cheeks was putting into the window a tray of
+delicious newly baked hot buns, fresh from the oven--large, plump, shiny
+buns, with currants in them.
+
+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.
+
+She knew 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 stream of passing people who crowded and jostled
+each other all day long.
+
+"But I'll go and ask the baker woman if she has lost anything," she said
+to herself, rather faintly. So she crossed the pavement and put her wet
+foot on the step. As she did so she saw something that made her stop.
+
+It was a little figure more forlorn even than herself--a little figure
+which was not much more than a bundle of rags, from which small, bare,
+red muddy feet peeped out, only because the rags with which their owner
+was trying to cover them were not long enough. Above the rags appeared
+a shock head of tangled hair, and a dirty face with big, hollow, hungry
+eyes.
+
+Sara knew they were hungry eyes the moment she saw them, and she felt a
+sudden sympathy.
+
+"This," she said to herself, with a little sigh, "is one of the
+populace--and she is hungrier than I am."
+
+The child--this "one of the populace"--stared up at Sara, and shuffled
+herself aside a little, so as to give her room to pass. 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."
+
+Sara clutched her little fourpenny piece and hesitated a few seconds.
+Then she spoke to her.
+
+"Are you hungry?" she asked.
+
+The child shuffled herself and her rags a little more.
+
+"Ain't I jist?" she said in a hoarse voice. "Jist ain't I?"
+
+"Haven't you had any dinner?" said Sara.
+
+"No dinner,"--more hoarsely still and with more shuffling. "Nor yet no
+bre'fast--nor yet no supper. No nothin'."
+
+"Since when?" asked Sara.
+
+"Dunno. Never got nothin' to-day--nowhere. I've axed an' axed."
+
+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.
+
+"If I'm a princess," she was saying--"if I'm a princess--when they
+were poor and driven from their thrones--they always shared--with the
+populace--if they met one poorer and hungrier than themselves. 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."
+
+"Wait a minute," she said to the beggar child.
+
+She went into the shop. It was warm and smelled deliciously. The woman
+was just going to put some more hot buns into the window.
+
+"If you please," said Sara, "have you lost fourpence--a silver
+fourpence?" And she held the forlorn little piece of money out to her.
+
+The woman looked at it and then at her--at her intense little face and
+draggled, once fine clothes.
+
+"Bless us! no," she answered. "Did you find it?"
+
+"Yes," said Sara. "In the gutter."
+
+"Keep it, then," said the woman. "It may have been there for a week, and
+goodness knows who lost it. _You_ could never find out."
+
+"I know that," said Sara, "but I thought I would ask you."
+
+"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 at the
+buns.
+
+"Four buns, if you please," said Sara. "Those at a penny each."
+
+The woman went to the window and put some in a paper bag.
+
+Sara noticed that she put in six.
+
+"I said four, if you please," she explained. "I have only fourpence."
+
+"I'll throw in two for makeweight," said the woman, with her
+good-natured look. "I dare say you can eat them sometime. Aren't
+you hungry?"
+
+A mist rose before Sara's eyes.
+
+"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.
+
+[Illustration: The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner.]
+
+The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner of the step. She
+looked frightful in her wet and dirty rags. She was staring straight
+before her with a stupid look of suffering, 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.
+
+Sara opened the paper bag and took out one of the hot buns, which had
+already warmed her own cold hands a little.
+
+"See," she said, putting the bun in the ragged lap, "this is nice and
+hot. Eat it, and you will not feel so hungry."
+
+The child started and stared up at her, as if such sudden, amazing good
+luck almost frightened her; then she snatched up the bun and began to
+cram it into her mouth with great wolfish bites.
+
+"Oh, my! Oh, my!" Sara heard her say hoarsely, in wild delight. "_Oh,
+my!_"
+
+Sara took out three more buns and put them down.
+
+The sound in the hoarse, ravenous voice was awful.
+
+"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.
+
+The little ravening London savage was still snatching and devouring when
+she turned away. She was too ravenous to give any thanks, even if she
+had ever been taught politeness--which she had not. She was only a poor
+little wild animal.
+
+"Good-by," said Sara.
+
+When she reached the other side of the street she looked back. The child
+had a bun in each hand 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 lingering 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.
+
+At that moment the baker-woman looked out of her shop window.
+
+"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "If that young un hasn't given her buns
+to a beggar child! It wasn't because she didn't want them, either.
+Well, well, she looked hungry enough. I'd give something to know what
+she did it for."
+
+She stood behind her window for a few moments and pondered. Then her
+curiosity got the better of her. She went to the door and spoke to the
+beggar child.
+
+"Who gave you those buns?" she asked her.
+
+The child nodded her head toward Sara's vanishing figure.
+
+"What did she say?" inquired the woman.
+
+"Axed me if I was 'ungry," replied the hoarse voice.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"Said I was jist."
+
+"And then she came in and got the buns, and gave them to you, did she?"
+
+The child nodded.
+
+"How many?"
+
+"Five."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"I wish she hadn't gone so quick," she said. "I'm blest if she shouldn't
+have had a dozen." Then she turned to the child.
+
+"Are you hungry yet?" she said.
+
+"I'm allus hungry," was the answer, "but 'tain't as bad as it was."
+
+"Come in here," said the woman, and she held open the shop door.
+
+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.
+
+"Get yourself warm," said the woman, pointing to a fire in the tiny back
+room. "And look here; when you are hard up for a bit of bread, you can
+come in here and ask for it. I'm blest if I won't give it to you for
+that young one's sake."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sara found some comfort in her remaining bun. At all events, it was very
+hot, and it was better than nothing. As she walked along she broke off
+small pieces and ate them slowly to make them last longer.
+
+"Suppose it was a magic bun," she said, "and a bite was as much as a
+whole dinner. I should be overeating myself if I went on like this."
+
+It was dark when she reached the square where the Select Seminary was
+situated. The lights in the houses were all lighted. The blinds were not
+yet drawn in the windows of the room where she nearly always caught
+glimpses of members of the Large Family. Frequently at this hour she
+could see the gentleman she called Mr. Montmorency sitting in a big
+chair, with a small swarm round him, talking, laughing, perching on the
+arms of his seat or on his knees or leaning against them. This evening
+the swarm was about him, but he was not seated. On the contrary, there
+was a good deal of excitement going on. It was evident that a journey
+was to be taken, and it was Mr. Montmorency who was to take it. A
+brougham stood before the door, and a big portmanteau had been strapped
+upon it. The children were dancing about, chattering and hanging on to
+their father. The pretty rosy mother was standing near him, talking as
+if she was asking final questions. Sara paused a moment to see the
+little ones lifted up and kissed and the bigger ones bent over and
+kissed also.
+
+"I wonder if he will stay away long," she thought. "The portmanteau is
+rather big. Oh, dear, how they will miss him! I shall miss him
+myself--even though he doesn't know I am alive."
+
+When the door opened she moved away,--remembering the sixpence,--but she
+saw the traveller come out and stand against the background of the
+warmly lighted hall, the older children still hovering about him.
+
+"Will Moscow be covered with snow?" said the little girl Janet. "Will
+there be ice everywhere?"
+
+"Shall you drive in a drosky?" cried another. "Shall you see the Czar?"
+
+"I will write and tell you all about it," he answered, laughing. "And I
+will send you pictures of muzhiks and things. Run into the house. It is
+a hideous damp night. I would rather stay with you than go to Moscow.
+Good night! Good night, duckies! God bless you!" And he ran down the
+steps and jumped into the brougham.
+
+"If you find the little girl, give her our love," shouted Guy Clarence,
+jumping up and down on the door-mat.
+
+Then they went in and shut the door.
+
+"Did you see," said Janet to Nora, as they went back to the room--"the
+little-girl-who-is-not-a-beggar was passing? She looked all cold and
+wet, and I saw her turn her head over her shoulder and look at us. Mamma
+says her clothes always look as if they had been given her by some one
+who was quite rich--some one who only let her have them because they
+were too shabby to wear. The people at the school always send her out on
+errands on the horridest days and nights there are."
+
+Sara crossed the square to Miss Minchin's area steps, feeling faint and
+shaky.
+
+"I wonder who the little girl is," she thought--"the little girl he is
+going to look for."
+
+And she went down the area steps, lugging her basket and finding it very
+heavy indeed, as the father of the Large Family drove quickly on his way
+to the station to take the train which was to carry him to Moscow, where
+he was to make his best efforts to search for the lost little daughter
+of Captain Crewe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+WHAT MELCHISEDEC HEARD AND SAW
+
+
+On this very afternoon, while Sara was out, a strange thing happened in
+the attic. Only Melchisedec saw and heard it; and he was so much alarmed
+and mystified that he scuttled back to his hole and hid there, and
+really quaked and trembled as he peeped out furtively and with great
+caution to watch what was going on.
+
+The attic had been very still all the day after Sara had left it in the
+early morning. The stillness had only been broken by the pattering of
+the rain upon the slates and the skylight. Melchisedec had, in fact,
+found it rather dull; and when the rain ceased to patter and perfect
+silence reigned, he decided to come out and reconnoitre, though
+experience taught him that Sara would not return for some time. He
+had been rambling and sniffing about, and had just found a totally
+unexpected and unexplained crumb left from his last meal, when his
+attention was attracted by a sound on the roof. He stopped to listen
+with a palpitating heart. The sound suggested that something was moving
+on the roof. It was approaching the skylight; it reached the skylight.
+The skylight was being mysteriously opened. A dark face peered into the
+attic; then another face appeared behind it, and both looked in with
+signs of caution and interest. Two men were outside on the roof, and
+were making silent preparations to enter through the skylight itself.
+One was Ram Dass, and the other was a young man who was the Indian
+gentleman's secretary; but of course Melchisedec did not know this. He
+only knew that the men were invading the silence and privacy of the
+attic; and as the one with the dark face let himself down through the
+aperture with such lightness and dexterity that he did not make the
+slightest sound, Melchisedec turned tail and fled precipitately back to
+his hole. He was frightened to death. He had ceased to be timid with
+Sara, and knew she would never throw anything but crumbs, and would
+never make any sound other than the soft, low, coaxing whistling; but
+strange men were dangerous things to remain near. He lay close and flat
+near the entrance of his home, just managing to peep through the crack
+with a bright, alarmed eye. How much he understood of the talk he heard
+I am not in the least able to say; but, even if he had understood it
+all, he would probably have remained greatly mystified.
+
+The secretary, who was light and young, slipped through the skylight as
+noiselessly as Ram Dass had done; and he caught a last glimpse of
+Melchisedec's vanishing tail.
+
+"Was that a rat?" he asked Ram Dass in a whisper.
+
+"Yes; a rat, Sahib," answered Ram Dass, also whispering. "There are many
+in the walls."
+
+"Ugh!" exclaimed the young man; "it is a wonder the child is not
+terrified of them."
+
+Ram Dass made a gesture with his hands. He also smiled respectfully. He
+was in this place as the intimate exponent of Sara, though she had only
+spoken to him once.
+
+"The child is the little friend of all things, Sahib," he answered.
+"She is not as other children. I see her when she does not see me. I
+slip across the slates and look at her many nights to see that she is
+safe. I watch her from my window when she does not know I am near. She
+stands on the table there and looks out at the sky as if it spoke to
+her. The sparrows come at her call. The rat she has fed and tamed in
+her loneliness. The poor slave of the house comes to her for comfort.
+There is a little child who comes to her in secret; there is one older
+who worships her and would listen to her forever if she might. This I
+have seen when I have crept across the roof. By the mistress of the
+house--who is an evil woman--she is treated like a pariah; but she has
+the bearing of a child who is of the blood of kings!"
+
+"You seem to know a great deal about her," the secretary said.
+
+"All her life each day I know," answered Ram Dass. "Her going out I
+know, and her coming in; her sadness and her poor joys; her coldness
+and her hunger. I know when she sits alone until midnight, learning
+from her books; I know when her secret friends steal to her and she is
+happier--as children can be, even in the midst of poverty--because they
+come and she may laugh and talk with them in whispers. If she were ill
+I should know, and I would come and serve her if it might be done."
+
+"You are sure no one comes near this place but herself, and that she
+will not return and surprise us. She would be frightened if she found
+us here, and the Sahib Carrisford's plan would be spoiled."
+
+Ram Dass crossed noiselessly to the door and stood close to it.
+
+"None mount here but herself, Sahib," he said. "She has gone out with
+her basket and may be gone for hours. If I stand here I can hear any
+step before it reaches the last flight of the stairs."
+
+The secretary took a pencil and a tablet from his breast pocket.
+
+"Keep your ears open," he said; and he began to walk slowly and softly
+round the miserable little room, making rapid notes on his tablet as he
+looked at things.
+
+First he went to the narrow bed. He pressed his hand upon the mattress
+and uttered an exclamation.
+
+"As hard as a stone," he said. "That will have to be altered some day
+when she is out. A special journey can be made to bring it across. It
+cannot be done to-night." He lifted the covering and examined the one
+thin pillow.
+
+"Coverlet dingy and worn, blanket thin, sheets patched and ragged," he
+said. "What a bed for a child to sleep in--and in a house which calls
+itself respectable! There has not been a fire in that grate for many a
+day," glancing at the rusty fireplace.
+
+"Never since I have seen it," said Ram Dass. "The mistress of the house
+is not one who remembers that another than herself may be cold."
+
+The secretary was writing quickly on his tablet. He looked up from it as
+he tore off a leaf and slipped it into his breast pocket.
+
+"It is a strange way of doing the thing," he said. "Who planned it?"
+
+Ram Dass made a modestly apologetic obeisance.
+
+"It is true that the first thought was mine, Sahib," he said; "though it
+was naught but a fancy. I am fond of this child; we are both lonely. It
+is her way to relate her visions to her secret friends. Being sad one
+night, I lay close to the open skylight and listened. The vision she
+related told what this miserable room might be if it had comforts in it.
+She seemed to see it as she talked, and she grew cheered and warmed as
+she spoke. Then she came to this fancy; and the next day, the Sahib
+being ill and wretched, I told him of the thing to amuse him. It seemed
+then but a dream, but it pleased the Sahib. To hear of the child's
+doings gave him entertainment. He became interested in her and asked
+questions. At last he began to please himself with the thought of making
+her visions real things."
+
+"You think that it can be done while she sleeps? Suppose she awakened,"
+suggested the secretary; and it was evident that whatsoever the plan
+referred to was, it had caught and pleased his fancy as well as the
+Sahib Carrisford's.
+
+"I can move as if my feet were of velvet," Ram Dass replied; "and
+children sleep soundly--even the unhappy ones. I could have entered this
+room in the night many times, and without causing her to turn upon her
+pillow. If the other bearer passes to me the things through the window,
+I can do all and she will not stir. When she awakens she will think a
+magician has been here."
+
+He smiled as if his heart warmed under his white robe, and the secretary
+smiled back at him.
+
+"It will be like a story from the 'Arabian Nights,'" he said. "Only an
+Oriental could have planned it. It does not belong to London fogs."
+
+They did not remain very long, to the great relief of Melchisedec,
+who, as he probably did not comprehend their conversation, felt their
+movements and whispers ominous. The young secretary seemed interested
+in everything. He wrote down things about the floor, the fireplace, the
+broken footstool, the old table, the walls--which last he touched with
+his hand again and again, seeming much pleased when he found that a
+number of old nails had been driven in various places.
+
+"You can hang things on them," he said.
+
+Ram Dass smiled mysteriously.
+
+"Yesterday, when she was out," he said, "I entered, bringing with me
+small, sharp nails which can be pressed into the wall without blows from
+a hammer. I placed many in the plaster where I may need them. They are
+ready."
+
+The Indian gentleman's secretary stood still and looked round him as he
+thrust his tablets back into his pocket.
+
+"I think I have made notes enough; we can go now," he said. "The Sahib
+Carrisford has a warm heart. It is a thousand pities that he has not
+found the lost child."
+
+"If he should find her his strength would be restored to him," said Ram
+Dass. "His God may lead her to him yet."
+
+Then they slipped through the skylight as noiselessly as they had
+entered it. And, after he was quite sure they had gone, Melchisedec was
+greatly relieved, and in the course of a few minutes felt it safe to
+emerge from his hole again and scuffle about in the hope that even such
+alarming human beings as these might have chanced to carry crumbs in
+their pockets and drop one or two of them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE MAGIC
+
+
+When Sara had passed the house next door she had seen Ram Dass closing
+the shutters, and caught her glimpse of this room also.
+
+"It is a long time since I saw a nice place from the inside," was the
+thought which crossed her mind.
+
+There was the usual bright fire glowing in the grate, and the Indian
+gentleman was sitting before it. His head was resting in his hand, and
+he looked as lonely and unhappy as ever.
+
+"Poor man!" said Sara; "I wonder what _you_ are supposing."
+
+And this was what he was "supposing" at that very moment.
+
+"Suppose," he was thinking, "suppose--even if Carmichael traces the
+people to Moscow--the little girl they took from Madame Pascal's school
+in Paris is _not_ the one we are in search of. Suppose she proves to be
+quite a different child. What steps shall I take next?"
+
+When Sara went into the house she met Miss Minchin, who had come
+down-stairs to scold the cook.
+
+"Where have you wasted your time?" she demanded. "You have been out for
+hours."
+
+"It was so wet and muddy," Sara answered, "it was hard to walk, because
+my shoes were so bad and slipped about."
+
+"Make no excuses," said Miss Minchin, "and tell no falsehoods."
+
+Sara went in to the cook. The cook had received a severe lecture and was
+in a fearful temper as a result. She was only too rejoiced to have some
+one to vent her rage on, and Sara was a convenience, as usual.
+
+"Why didn't you stay all night?" she snapped.
+
+Sara laid her purchases on the table.
+
+"Here are the things," she said.
+
+The cook looked them over, grumbling. She was in a very savage humor
+indeed.
+
+"May I have something to eat?" Sara asked rather faintly.
+
+"Tea's over and done with," was the answer. "Did you expect me to keep
+it hot for you?"
+
+Sara stood silent for a second.
+
+"I had no dinner," she said next, and her voice was quite low. She made
+it low because she was afraid it would tremble.
+
+"There's some bread in the pantry," said the cook. "That's all you'll
+get at this time of day."
+
+Sara went and found the bread. It was old and hard and dry. The cook
+was in too vicious a humor to give her anything to eat with it. It was
+always safe and easy to vent her spite on Sara. Really, it was hard
+for the child to climb the three long flights of stairs leading to her
+attic. 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
+she was obliged to stop to rest. When she reached the top landing she
+was glad to see the glimmer of a light coming from under her door. That
+meant that Ermengarde had managed to creep up to pay her a visit. There
+was some comfort in that. It was better than to go into the room alone
+and find it empty and desolate. The mere presence of plump, comfortable
+Ermengarde, wrapped in her red shawl, would warm it a little.
+
+Yes; there Ermengarde was when she opened the door. She was sitting in
+the middle of the bed, with her feet tucked safely under her. She had
+never become intimate with Melchisedec and his family, though they
+rather fascinated her. When she found herself alone in the attic she
+always preferred to sit on the bed until Sara arrived. She had, in fact,
+on this occasion had time to become rather nervous, because Melchisedec
+had appeared and sniffed about a good deal, and once had made her utter
+a repressed squeal by sitting up on his hind legs and, while he looked
+at her, sniffing pointedly in her direction.
+
+"Oh, Sara," she cried out, "I _am_ glad you have come. Melchy _would_
+sniff about so. I tried to coax him to go back, but he wouldn't for such
+a long time. I like him, you know; but it does frighten me when he
+sniffs right at me. Do you think he ever _would_ jump?"
+
+"No," answered Sara.
+
+Ermengarde crawled forward on the bed to look at her.
+
+"You _do_ look tired, Sara," she said; "you are quite pale."
+
+"I _am_ tired," said Sara, dropping on to the lop-sided footstool. "Oh,
+there's Melchisedec, poor thing. He's come to ask for his supper."
+
+Melchisedec had come out of his hole as if he had been listening for
+her footstep. Sara was quite sure he knew it. He came forward with an
+affectionate, expectant expression as Sara put her hand in her pocket
+and turned it inside out, shaking her head.
+
+"I'm very sorry," she said. "I haven't one crumb left. Go home,
+Melchisedec, and tell your wife there was nothing in my pocket. I'm
+afraid I forgot because the cook and Miss Minchin were so cross."
+
+Melchisedec seemed to understand. He shuffled resignedly, if not
+contentedly, back to his home.
+
+"I did not expect to see you to-night, Ermie," Sara said.
+
+Ermengarde hugged herself in the red shawl.
+
+"Miss Amelia has gone out to spend the night with her old aunt," she
+explained. "No one else ever comes and looks into the bedrooms after we
+are in bed. I could stay here until morning if I wanted to."
+
+She pointed toward the table under the skylight. Sara had not looked
+toward it as she came in. A number of books were piled upon it.
+Ermengarde's gesture was a dejected one.
+
+"Papa has sent me some more books, Sara," she said. "There they are."
+
+Sara looked round and got up at once. She ran to the table, and picking
+up the top volume, turned over its leaves quickly. For the moment she
+forgot her discomforts.
+
+"Ah," she cried out, "how beautiful! Carlyle's 'French Revolution.' I
+have _so_ wanted to read that!"
+
+"I haven't," said Ermengarde. "And papa will be so cross if I don't.
+He'll expect me to know all about it when I go home for the holidays.
+What _shall_ I do?"
+
+Sara stopped turning over the leaves and looked at her with an excited
+flush on her cheeks.
+
+"Look here," she cried, "if you'll lend me these books, _I'll_ read
+them--and tell you everything that's in them afterward--and I'll tell it
+so that you will remember it, too."
+
+"Oh, goodness!" exclaimed Ermengarde. "Do you think you can?"
+
+"I know I can," Sara answered. "The little ones always remember what I
+tell them."
+
+"Sara," said Ermengarde, hope gleaming in her round face, "if you'll
+do that, and make me remember, I'll--I'll give you anything."
+
+"I don't want you to give me anything," said Sara. "I want your books--I
+want them!" And her eyes grew big, and her chest heaved.
+
+"Take them, then," said Ermengarde. "I wish I wanted them--but I don't.
+I'm not clever, and my father is, and he thinks I ought to be."
+
+Sara was opening one book after the other. "What are you going to tell
+your father?" she asked, a slight doubt dawning in her mind.
+
+"Oh, he needn't know," answered Ermengarde. "He'll think I've read
+them."
+
+Sara put down her book and shook her head slowly. "That's almost like
+telling lies," she said. "And lies--well, you see, they are not only
+wicked--they're _vulgar_. Sometimes"--reflectively--"I've thought
+perhaps I might do something wicked,--I might suddenly fly into a rage
+and kill Miss Minchin, you know, when she was ill-treating me,--but I
+_couldn't_ be vulgar. Why can't you tell your father _I_ read them?"
+
+"He wants me to read them," said Ermengarde, a little discouraged by
+this unexpected turn of affairs.
+
+"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 it, I should think he would
+like that."
+
+"He'll like it if I learn anything in _any_ way," said rueful
+Ermengarde. "You would if you were my father."
+
+"It's not your fault that--" began Sara. She pulled herself up and
+stopped rather suddenly. She had been going to say, "It's not your fault
+that you are stupid."
+
+"That what?" Ermengarde asked.
+
+"That you can't learn things quickly," amended Sara. "If you can't, you
+can't. If I can--why, I can; that's all."
+
+She always felt very tender of Ermengarde, and tried not to let her feel
+too strongly the difference between being able to learn anything at
+once, and not being able to learn anything at all. As she looked at her
+plump face, one of her wise, old-fashioned thoughts came to her.
+
+"Perhaps," she said, "to be able to learn things quickly isn't
+everything. To be kind is worth a great deal to other people. If Miss
+Minchin knew everything on earth and 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 have been wicked. Look at
+Robespierre--"
+
+She stopped and examined Ermengarde's countenance, which was beginning
+to look bewildered. "Don't you remember?" she demanded. "I told you
+about him not long ago. I believe you've forgotten."
+
+"Well, I don't remember _all_ of it," admitted Ermengarde.
+
+"Well, you wait a minute," said Sara, "and I'll take off my wet things
+and wrap myself in the coverlet and tell you over again."
+
+She took off her hat and coat and hung them on a nail against the wall,
+and she changed her wet shoes for an old pair of slippers. Then she
+jumped on the bed, and drawing the coverlet about her shoulders, sat
+with her arms round her knees.
+
+"Now, listen," she said.
+
+She plunged into the gory records of the French Revolution, and told
+such stories of it that Ermengarde's eyes grew round with alarm and
+she held her breath. But though she was rather terrified, there was
+a delightful thrill in listening, and she was not likely to forget
+Robespierre again, or to have any doubts about the Princesse de
+Lamballe.
+
+"You know they put her head on a pike and danced round it," Sara
+explained. "And she had beautiful floating 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."
+
+It was agreed that Mr. St. John was to be told the plan they had made,
+and for the present the books were to be left in the attic.
+
+"Now let's tell each other things," said Sara. "How are you getting on
+with your French lessons?"
+
+"Ever so much better since the last time I came up here and you
+explained the conjugations. Miss Minchin could not understand why I did
+my exercises so well that first morning."
+
+Sara laughed a little and hugged her knees.
+
+"She doesn't understand why Lottie is doing her sums so well," she said;
+"but it is because she creeps up here, too, and I help her." She glanced
+round the room. "The attic would be rather nice--if it wasn't so
+dreadful," she said, laughing again. "It's a good place to pretend in."
+
+The truth was that Ermengarde did not know anything of the sometimes
+almost unbearable side of life in the attic, and she had not a
+sufficiently vivid imagination to depict it for herself. On the rare
+occasions that she could reach Sara's room she only saw that side of it
+which was made exciting by things which were "pretended" and stories
+which were told. Her visits partook of the character of adventures; and
+though sometimes Sara looked rather pale, and it was not to be denied
+that she had grown very thin, her proud little spirit would not admit
+of complaints. She had never confessed that at times she was almost
+ravenous with hunger, as she was to-night. She was growing rapidly,
+and her constant walking and running about would have given her a keen
+appetite even if she had had abundant and regular meals of a much more
+nourishing nature than the unappetizing, inferior food snatched at such
+odd times as suited the kitchen convenience. She was growing used to a
+certain gnawing feeling in her young stomach.
+
+"I suppose soldiers feel like this when they are on a long and weary
+march," she often said to herself. She liked the sound of the phrase,
+"long and weary march." It made her feel rather like a soldier. She had
+also a quaint sense of being a hostess in the attic.
+
+"If I lived in a castle," she argued, "and Ermengarde was the lady of
+another castle, and came to see me, with knights and squires and vassals
+riding with her, and pennons flying; when I heard the clarions sounding
+outside the drawbridge I should go down to receive her, and I should
+spread feasts in the banquet-hall and call in minstrels to sing and
+play and relate romances. When she comes into the attic I can't spread
+feasts, but I can tell stories, and not let her know disagreeable
+things. I dare say poor chatelaines had to do that in times of famine,
+when their lands had been pillaged." She was a proud, brave little
+chatelaine, and dispensed generously the one hospitality she could
+offer--the dreams she dreamed--the visions she saw--the imaginings which
+were her joy and comfort.
+
+So, as they sat together, Ermengarde did not know that she was faint as
+well as ravenous, and that while she talked she now and then wondered if
+her hunger would let her sleep when she was left alone. She felt as if
+she had never been quite so hungry before.
+
+"I wish I was as thin as you, Sara," Ermengarde said suddenly. "I
+believe you are thinner than you used to be. Your eyes look so big, and
+look at the sharp little bones sticking out of your elbow!"
+
+Sara pulled down her sleeve, which had pushed itself up.
+
+"I always was a thin child," she said bravely, "and I always had big
+green eyes."
+
+"I love your queer eyes," said Ermengarde, looking into them with
+affectionate admiration. "They always look as if they saw such a long
+way. I love them--and I love them to be green--though they look black
+generally."
+
+"They are cat's eyes," laughed Sara; "but I can't see in the dark with
+them--because I have tried, and I couldn't--I wish I could."
+
+It was just at this minute that something happened at the skylight which
+neither of them saw. If either of them had chanced to turn and look,
+she would have been startled by the sight of a dark face which peered
+cautiously into the room and disappeared as quickly and almost as
+silently as it had appeared. Not _quite_ as silently, however. Sara, who
+had keen ears, suddenly turned a little and looked up at the roof.
+
+"That didn't sound like Melchisedec," she said. "It wasn't scratchy
+enough."
+
+"What?" said Ermengarde, a little startled.
+
+"Didn't you think you heard something?" asked Sara.
+
+"N-no," Ermengarde faltered. "Did you?"
+
+"Perhaps I didn't," said Sara; "but I thought I did. It sounded as if
+something was on the slates--something that dragged softly."
+
+"What could it be?" said Ermengarde. "Could it be--robbers?"
+
+"No," Sara began cheerfully. "There is nothing to steal--"
+
+She broke off in the middle of her words. They both heard the sound that
+checked her. It was not on the slates, but on the stairs below, and it
+was Miss Minchin's angry voice. Sara sprang off the bed, and put out the
+candle.
+
+"She is scolding Becky," she whispered, as she stood in the darkness.
+"She is making her cry."
+
+"Will she come in here?" Ermengarde whispered back, panic-stricken.
+
+"No. She will think I am in bed. Don't stir."
+
+It was very seldom that Miss Minchin mounted the last flight of stairs.
+Sara could only remember that she had done it once before. But now she
+was angry enough to be coming at least part of the way up, and it
+sounded as if she was driving Becky before her.
+
+"You impudent, dishonest child!" they heard her say. "Cook tells me she
+has missed things repeatedly."
+
+"'T warn't me, mum," said Becky, sobbing. "I was 'ungry enough, but 't
+warn't me--never!"
+
+"You deserve to be sent to prison," said Miss Minchin's voice. "Picking
+and stealing! Half a meat-pie, indeed!"
+
+"'T warn't me," wept Becky. "I could 'ave eat a whole un--but I never
+laid a finger on it."
+
+Miss Minchin was out of breath between temper and mounting the stairs.
+The meat-pie had been intended for her special late supper. It became
+apparent that she boxed Becky's ears.
+
+"Don't tell falsehoods," she said. "Go to your room this instant."
+
+Both Sara and Ermengarde heard the slap, and then heard Becky run in her
+slip-shod shoes up the stairs and into her attic. They heard her door
+shut, and knew that she threw herself upon her bed.
+
+"I could 'ave e't two of 'em," they heard her cry into her pillow. "An'
+I never took a bite. 'Twas cook give it to her policeman."
+
+Sara stood in the middle of the room in the darkness. She was clenching
+her little teeth and opening and shutting fiercely her outstretched
+hands. She could scarcely stand still, but she dared not move until Miss
+Minchin had gone down the stairs and all was still.
+
+"The wicked, cruel thing!" she burst forth. "The cook takes things
+herself and then says Becky steals them. She _doesn't_! She _doesn't_!
+She's so hungry sometimes that she eats crusts out of the ash-barrel!"
+She pressed her hands hard against her face and burst into passionate
+little sobs, and Ermengarde, hearing this unusual thing, was overawed
+by it. Sara was crying! The unconquerable Sara! It seemed to denote
+something new--some mood she had never known. Suppose--! Suppose--! A
+new dread possibility presented itself to her kind, slow, little mind
+all at once. She crept off the bed in the dark and found her way to the
+table where the candle stood. She struck a match and lit the candle.
+When she had lighted it, she bent forward and looked at Sara, with her
+new thought growing to definite fear in her eyes.
+
+"Sara," she said in a timid, almost awe-stricken voice, "are--are--you
+never told me--I don't want to be rude, but--are _you_ ever hungry?"
+
+It was too much just at that moment. The barrier broke down. Sara lifted
+her face from her hands.
+
+"Yes," she said in a new passionate way. "Yes, I am. I'm so hungry now
+that I could almost eat _you_. And it makes it worse to hear poor Becky.
+She's hungrier than I am."
+
+Ermengarde gasped.
+
+"Oh! Oh!" she cried wofully; "and I never knew!"
+
+"I didn't want you to know," Sara said. "It would have made me feel like
+a street beggar. I know I look like a street beggar."
+
+"No, you don't--you don't!" Ermengarde broke in. "Your clothes are a
+little queer,--but you _couldn't_ look like a street beggar. You haven't
+a street-beggar face."
+
+"A little boy once gave me a sixpence for charity," said Sara, with a
+short little laugh in spite of herself. "Here it is." And she pulled out
+the thin ribbon from her neck. "He wouldn't have given me his Christmas
+sixpence if I hadn't looked as if I needed it."
+
+Somehow the sight of the dear little sixpence was good for both of
+them. It made them laugh a little, though they both had tears in their
+eyes.
+
+"Who was he?" asked Ermengarde, looking at it quite as if it had not
+been a mere ordinary silver sixpence.
+
+"He was a darling little thing going to a party," said Sara. "He was one
+of the Large Family, the little one with the round legs--the one I call
+Guy Clarence. I suppose his nursery was crammed with Christmas presents
+and hampers full of cakes and things, and he could see I had had
+nothing."
+
+Ermengarde gave a little jump backward. The last sentences had recalled
+something to her troubled mind and given her a sudden inspiration.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she cried. "What a silly thing I am not to have thought of
+it!"
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Something splendid!" said Ermengarde, in an excited hurry. "This very
+afternoon my nicest aunt sent me a box. It is full of good things. I
+never touched it, I had so much pudding at dinner, and I was so bothered
+about papa's books." Her words began to tumble over each other. "It's
+got cake in it, and little meat-pies, and jam-tarts and buns, and
+oranges and red-currant wine, and figs and chocolate. I'll creep back
+to my room and get it this minute, and we'll eat it now."
+
+Sara almost reeled. When one is faint with hunger the mention of food
+has sometimes a curious effect. She clutched Ermengarde's arm.
+
+"Do you think--you _could_?" she ejaculated.
+
+"I know I could," answered Ermengarde, and she ran to the door--opened
+it softly--put her head out into the darkness, and listened. Then she
+went back to Sara. "The lights are out. Everybody's in bed. I can
+creep--and creep--and no one will hear."
+
+It was so delightful that they caught each other's hands and a sudden
+light sprang into Sara's eyes.
+
+"Ermie!" she said. "Let us _pretend_! Let us pretend it's a party! And
+oh, won't you invite the prisoner in the next cell?"
+
+"Yes! Yes! Let us knock on the wall now. The jailer won't hear."
+
+Sara went to the wall. Through it she could hear poor Becky crying more
+softly. She knocked four times.
+
+"That means, 'Come to me through the secret passage under the wall,' she
+explained. 'I have something to communicate.'"
+
+Five quick knocks answered her.
+
+"She is coming," she said.
+
+Almost immediately the door of the attic opened and Becky appeared. Her
+eyes were red and her cap was sliding off, and when she caught sight of
+Ermengarde she began to rub her face nervously with her apron.
+
+"Don't mind me a bit, Becky!" cried Ermengarde.
+
+"Miss Ermengarde has asked you to come in," said Sara, "because she is
+going to bring a box of good things up here to us."
+
+Becky's cap almost fell off entirely, she broke in with such
+excitement.
+
+"To eat, miss?" she said. "Things that's good to eat?"
+
+"Yes," answered Sara, "and we are going to pretend a party."
+
+"And you shall have as much as you _want_ to eat," put in Ermengarde.
+"I'll go this minute!"
+
+She was in such haste that as she tiptoed out of the attic she dropped
+her red shawl and did not know it had fallen. No one saw it for a minute
+or so. Becky was too much overpowered by the good luck which had
+befallen her.
+
+"Oh, miss! oh, miss!" she gasped; "I know it was you that asked her to
+let me come. It--it makes me cry to think of it." And she went to Sara's
+side and stood and looked at her worshippingly.
+
+But in Sara's hungry eyes the old light had begun to glow and transform
+her world for her. Here in the attic--with the cold night outside--with
+the afternoon in the sloppy streets barely passed--with the memory of
+the awful unfed look in the beggar child's eyes not yet faded--this
+simple, cheerful thing had happened like a thing of magic.
+
+She caught her breath.
+
+"Somehow, something always happens," she cried, "just before things get
+to the very worst. It is as if the Magic did it. If I could only just
+remember that always. The worst thing never _quite_ comes."
+
+She gave Becky a little cheerful shake.
+
+"No, no! You mustn't cry!" she said. "We must make haste and set the
+table."
+
+"Set the table, miss?" said Becky, gazing round the room. "What'll we
+set it with?"
+
+Sara looked round the attic, too.
+
+"There doesn't seem to be much," she answered, half laughing.
+
+That moment she saw something and pounced upon it. It was Ermengarde's
+red shawl which lay upon the floor.
+
+"Here's the shawl," she cried. "I know she won't mind it. It will make
+such a nice red table-cloth."
+
+They pulled the old table forward, and threw the shawl over it. Red is
+a wonderfully kind and comfortable color. It began to make the room look
+furnished directly.
+
+"How nice a red rug would look on the floor!" exclaimed Sara. "We must
+pretend there is one!"
+
+Her eye swept the bare boards with a swift glance of admiration. The rug
+was laid down already.
+
+"How soft and thick it is!" she said, with the little laugh which Becky
+knew the meaning of; and she raised and set her foot down again
+delicately, as if she felt something under it.
+
+"Yes, miss," answered Becky, watching her with serious rapture. She was
+always quite serious.
+
+"What next, now?" said Sara, and she stood still and put her hands over
+her eyes. "Something will come if I think and wait a little"--in a soft,
+expectant voice. "The Magic will tell me."
+
+One of her favorite fancies was that on "the outside," as she called it,
+thoughts were waiting for people to call them. Becky had seen her stand
+and wait many a time before, and knew that in a few seconds she would
+uncover an enlightened, laughing face.
+
+In a moment she did.
+
+"There!" she cried. "It has come! I know now! I must look among the
+things in the old trunk I had when I was a princess."
+
+She flew to its corner and kneeled down. It had not been put in the
+attic for her benefit, but because there was no room for it elsewhere.
+Nothing had been left in it but rubbish. But she knew she should find
+something. The Magic always arranged that kind of thing in one way or
+another.
+
+In a corner lay a package so insignificant-looking that it had been
+overlooked, and when she herself had found it she had kept it as a
+relic. It contained a dozen small white handkerchiefs. She seized them
+joyfully and ran to the table. She began to arrange them upon the red
+table-cover, patting and coaxing them into shape with the narrow lace
+edge curling outward, her Magic working its spells for her as she did
+it.
+
+"These are the plates," she said. "They are golden plates. These are the
+richly embroidered napkins. Nuns worked them in convents in Spain."
+
+"Did they, miss?" breathed Becky, her very soul uplifted by the
+information.
+
+"You must pretend it," said Sara. "If you pretend it enough, you will
+see them."
+
+"Yes, miss," said Becky; and as Sara returned to the trunk she devoted
+herself to the effort of accomplishing an end so much to be desired.
+
+Sara turned suddenly to find her standing by the table, looking very
+queer indeed. She had shut her eyes, and was twisting her face in
+strange, convulsive contortions, her hands hanging stiffly clenched at
+her sides. She looked as if she was trying to lift some enormous weight.
+
+"What is the matter, Becky?" Sara cried. "What are you doing?"
+
+Becky opened her eyes with a start.
+
+"I was a-'pretendin',' miss," she answered a little sheepishly; "I was
+tryin' to see it like you do. I almost did," with a hopeful grin. "But
+it takes a lot o' stren'th."
+
+"Perhaps it does if you are not used to it," said Sara, with friendly
+sympathy; "but you don't know how easy it is when you've done it often.
+I wouldn't try so hard just at first. It will come to you after a while.
+I'll just tell you what things are. Look at these."
+
+She held an old summer hat in her hand which she had fished out of the
+bottom of the trunk. There was a wreath of flowers on it. She pulled the
+wreath off.
+
+"These are garlands for the feast," she said grandly. "They fill all the
+air with perfume. There's a mug on the wash-stand, Becky. Oh--and bring
+the soap-dish for a centrepiece."
+
+Becky handed them to her reverently.
+
+"What are they now, miss?" she inquired. "You'd think they was made of
+crockery,--but I know they ain't."
+
+"This is a carven flagon," said Sara, arranging tendrils of the wreath
+about the mug. "And this"--bending tenderly over the soap-dish and
+heaping it with roses--"is purest alabaster encrusted with gems."
+
+She touched the things gently, a happy smile hovering about her lips
+which made her look as if she were a creature in a dream.
+
+"My, ain't it lovely!" whispered Becky.
+
+"If we just had something for bonbon-dishes," Sara murmured.
+"There!"--darting to the trunk again. "I remember I saw something this
+minute."
+
+It was only a bundle of wool wrapped in red and white tissue-paper, but
+the tissue-paper was soon twisted into the form of little dishes, and
+was combined with the remaining flowers to ornament the candlestick
+which was to light the feast. Only the Magic could have made it more
+than an old table covered with a red shawl and set with rubbish from a
+long-unopened trunk. But Sara drew back and gazed at it, seeing wonders;
+and Becky, after staring in delight, spoke with bated breath.
+
+"This 'ere," she suggested, with a glance round the attic--"is it the
+Bastille now--or has it turned into somethin' different?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes!" said Sara; "quite different. It is a banquet-hall!"
+
+"My eye, miss!" ejaculated Becky. "A blanket-'all!" and she turned to
+view the splendors about her with awed bewilderment.
+
+"A banquet-hall," said Sara. "A vast chamber where feasts are given. It
+has a vaulted roof, and a minstrels' gallery, and a huge chimney filled
+with blazing oaken logs, and it is brilliant with waxen tapers twinkling
+on every side."
+
+"My eye, Miss Sara!" gasped Becky again.
+
+Then the door opened, and Ermengarde came in, rather staggering under
+the weight of her hamper. She started back with an exclamation of joy.
+To enter from the chill darkness outside, and find one's self confronted
+by a totally unanticipated festal board, draped with red, adorned with
+white napery, and wreathed with flowers, was to feel that the
+preparations were brilliant indeed.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she cried out. "You are the cleverest girl I ever saw!"
+
+"Isn't it nice?" said Sara. "They are things out of my old trunk. I
+asked my Magic, and it told me to go and look."
+
+"But oh, miss," cried Becky, "wait till she's told you what they are!
+They ain't just--oh, miss, please tell her," appealing to Sara.
+
+So Sara told her, and because her Magic helped her she made her _almost_
+see it all: the golden platters--the vaulted spaces--the blazing
+logs--the twinkling waxen tapers. As the things were taken out of the
+hamper--the frosted cakes--the fruits--the bonbons and the wine--the
+feast became a splendid thing.
+
+"It's like a real party!" cried Ermengarde.
+
+"It's like a queen's table," sighed Becky.
+
+Then Ermengarde had a sudden brilliant thought.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Sara," she said. "Pretend you are a princess now
+and this is a royal feast."
+
+"But it's your feast," said Sara; "you must be the princess, and we will
+be your maids of honor."
+
+"Oh, I can't," said Ermengarde. "I'm too fat, and I don't know how.
+_You_ be her."
+
+"Well, if you want me to," said Sara.
+
+But suddenly she thought of something else and ran to the rusty grate.
+
+"There is a lot of paper and rubbish stuffed in here!" she exclaimed.
+"If we light it, there will be a bright blaze for a few minutes, and we
+shall feel as if it was a real fire." She struck a match and lighted it
+up with a great specious glow which illuminated the room.
+
+"By the time it stops blazing," Sara said, "we shall forget about its
+not being real."
+
+She stood in the dancing glow and smiled.
+
+"Doesn't it _look_ real?" she said. "Now we will begin the party."
+
+She led the way to the table. She waved her hand graciously to
+Ermengarde and Becky. She was in the midst of her dream.
+
+"Advance, fair damsels," she said in her happy dream-voice, "and be
+seated at the banquet-table. My noble father, the king, who is absent
+on a long journey, has commanded me to feast you." She turned her head
+slightly toward the corner of the room. "What, ho! there, minstrels!
+Strike up with your viols and bassoons. Princesses," she explained
+rapidly to Ermengarde and Becky, "always had minstrels to play at their
+feasts. Pretend there is a minstrel gallery up there in the corner. Now
+we will begin."
+
+They had barely had time to take their pieces of cake into their
+hands--not one of them had time to do more, when--they all
+three sprang to their feet and turned pale faces toward the
+door--listening--listening.
+
+Some one was coming up the stairs. There was no mistake about it. Each
+of them recognized the angry, mounting tread and knew that the end of
+all things had come.
+
+"It's--the missus!" choked Becky, and dropped her piece of cake upon the
+floor.
+
+"Yes," said Sara, her eyes growing shocked and large in her small white
+face. "Miss Minchin has found us out."
+
+Miss Minchin struck the door open with a blow of her hand. She was pale
+herself, but it was with rage. She looked from the frightened faces to
+the banquet-table, and from the banquet-table to the last flicker of the
+burnt paper in the grate.
+
+"I have been suspecting something of this sort," she exclaimed; "but I
+did not dream of such audacity. Lavinia was telling the truth."
+
+So they knew that it was Lavinia who had somehow guessed their secret
+and had betrayed them. Miss Minchin strode over to Becky and boxed her
+ears for a second time.
+
+"You impudent creature!" she said. "You leave the house in the morning!"
+
+Sara stood quite still, her eyes growing larger, her face paler.
+Ermengarde burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, don't send her away," she sobbed. "My aunt sent me the hamper.
+We're--only--having a party."
+
+"So I see," said Miss Minchin, witheringly. "With the Princess Sara at
+the head of the table." She turned fiercely on Sara. "It is your doing,
+I know," she cried. "Ermengarde would never have thought of such a
+thing. You decorated the table, I suppose--with this rubbish." She
+stamped her foot at Becky. "Go to your attic!" she commanded, and Becky
+stole away, her face hidden in her apron, her shoulders shaking.
+
+Then it was Sara's turn again.
+
+"I will attend to you to-morrow. You shall have neither breakfast,
+dinner, nor supper!"
+
+"I have not had either dinner or supper to-day, Miss Minchin," said
+Sara, rather faintly.
+
+"Then all the better. You will have something to remember. Don't stand
+there. Put those things into the hamper again."
+
+She began to sweep them off the table into the hamper herself, and
+caught sight of Ermengarde's new books.
+
+"And you"--to Ermengarde--"have brought your beautiful new books into
+this dirty attic. Take them up and go back to bed. You will stay there
+all day to-morrow, and I shall write to your papa. What would _he_ say
+if he knew where you are to-night?"
+
+Something she saw in Sara's grave, fixed gaze at this moment made her
+turn on her fiercely.
+
+"What are you thinking of?" she demanded. "Why do you look at me like
+that?"
+
+"I was wondering," answered Sara, as she had answered that notable day
+in the school-room.
+
+"What were you wondering?"
+
+It was very like the scene in the school-room. There was no pertness in
+Sara's manner. It was only sad and quiet.
+
+"I was wondering," she said in a low voice, "what _my_ papa would say if
+he knew where I am to-night."
+
+Miss Minchin was infuriated just as she had been before, and her anger
+expressed itself, as before, in an intemperate fashion. She flew at her
+and shook her.
+
+"You insolent, unmanageable child!" she cried. "How dare you! How dare
+you!"
+
+She picked up the books, swept the rest of the feast back into the
+hamper in a jumbled heap, thrust it into Ermengarde's arms, and pushed
+her before her toward the door.
+
+"I will leave you to wonder," she said. "Go to bed this instant." And
+she shut the door behind herself and poor stumbling Ermengarde, and left
+Sara standing quite alone.
+
+The dream was quite at an end. The last spark had died out of the paper
+in the grate and left only black tinder; the table was left bare, the
+golden plates and richly embroidered napkins, and the garlands were
+transformed again into old handkerchiefs, scraps of red and white
+paper, and discarded artificial flowers all scattered on the floor; the
+minstrels in the minstrel gallery had stolen away, and the viols and
+bassoons were still. Emily was sitting with her back against the wall,
+staring very hard. Sara saw her, and went and picked her up with
+trembling hands.
+
+"There isn't any banquet left, Emily," she said. "And there isn't any
+princess. There is nothing left but the prisoners in the Bastille." And
+she sat down and hid her face.
+
+What would have happened if she had not hidden it just then, and if
+she had chanced to look up at the skylight at the wrong moment, I do
+not know--perhaps the end of this chapter might have been quite
+different--because if she had glanced at the skylight she would
+certainly have been startled by what she would have seen. She would
+have seen exactly the same face pressed against the glass and peering
+in at her as it had peered in earlier in the evening when she had been
+talking to Ermengarde.
+
+But she did not look up. She sat with her little black head in her arms
+for some time. She always sat like that when she was trying to bear
+something in silence. Then she got up and went slowly to the bed.
+
+"I can't pretend anything else--while I am awake," she said. "There
+wouldn't be any use in trying. If I go to sleep, perhaps a dream will
+come and pretend for me."
+
+She suddenly felt so tired--perhaps through want of food--that she sat
+down on the edge of the bed quite weakly.
+
+"Suppose there was a bright fire in the grate, with lots of little
+dancing flames," she murmured. "Suppose there was a comfortable chair
+before it--and suppose there was a small table near, with a little
+hot--hot supper on it. And suppose"--as she drew the thin coverings over
+her--"suppose this was a beautiful soft bed, with fleecy blankets and
+large downy pillows. Suppose--suppose--" And her very weariness was
+good to her, for her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+She did not know how long she slept. But she had been tired enough to
+sleep deeply and profoundly--too deeply and soundly to be disturbed by
+anything, even by the squeaks and scamperings of Melchisedec's entire
+family, if all his sons and daughters had chosen to come out of their
+hole to fight and tumble and play.
+
+When she awakened it was rather suddenly, and she did not know that
+any particular thing had called her out of her sleep. The truth
+was, however, that it was a sound which had called her back--a real
+sound--the click of the skylight as it fell in closing after a lithe
+white figure which slipped through it and crouched down close by upon
+the slates of the roof--just near enough to see what happened in the
+attic, but not near enough to be seen.
+
+At first she did not open her eyes. She felt too sleepy and--curiously
+enough--too warm and comfortable. She was so warm and comfortable,
+indeed, that she did not believe she was really awake. She never was as
+warm and cosey as this except in some lovely vision.
+
+"What a nice dream!" she murmured. "I feel quite warm.
+I--don't--want--to--wake--up."
+
+Of course it was a dream. She felt as if warm, delightful bedclothes
+were heaped upon her. She could actually _feel_ blankets, and when she
+put out her hand it touched something exactly like a satin-covered
+eider-down quilt. She must not awaken from this delight--she must be
+quite still and make it last.
+
+But she could not--even though she kept her eyes closed tightly, she
+could not. Something was forcing her to awaken--something in the room.
+It was a sense of light, and a sound--the sound of a crackling, roaring
+little fire.
+
+"Oh, I am awakening," she said mournfully. "I can't help it--I can't."
+
+Her eyes opened in spite of herself. And then she actually smiled--for
+what she saw she had never seen in the attic before, and knew she never
+should see.
+
+"Oh, I _haven't_ awakened," she whispered, daring to rise on her elbow
+and look all about her. "I am dreaming yet." She knew it _must_ be a
+dream, for if she were awake such things could not--could not be.
+
+Do you wonder that she felt sure she had not come back to earth? This is
+what she saw. In the grate there was a glowing, blazing fire; on the hob
+was a little brass kettle hissing and boiling; spread upon the floor was
+a thick, warm crimson rug; before the fire a folding-chair, unfolded,
+and with cushions on it; by the chair a small folding-table, unfolded,
+covered with a white cloth, and upon it spread small covered dishes,
+a cup, a saucer, a tea-pot; on the bed were new warm coverings and a
+satin-covered down quilt; at the foot a curious wadded silk robe, a pair
+of quilted slippers, and some books. The room of her dream seemed
+changed into fairyland--and it was flooded with warm light, for a bright
+lamp stood on the table covered with a rosy shade.
+
+She sat up, resting on her elbow, and her breathing came short and fast.
+
+"It does not--melt away," she panted. "Oh, I never had such a dream
+before." She scarcely dared to stir; but at last she pushed the
+bedclothes aside, and put her feet on the floor with a rapturous smile.
+
+"I am dreaming--I am getting out of bed," she heard her own voice say;
+and then, as she stood up in the midst of it all, turning slowly from
+side to side,--"I am dreaming it stays--real! I'm dreaming it _feels_
+real. It's bewitched--or I'm bewitched. I only _think_ I see it all."
+Her words began to hurry themselves. "If I can only keep on thinking
+it," she cried, "I don't care! I don't care!"
+
+She stood panting a moment longer, and then cried out again.
+
+"Oh, it isn't true!" she said. "It _can't_ be true! But oh, how true it
+seems!"
+
+The blazing fire drew her to it, and she knelt down and held out her
+hands close to it--so close that the heat made her start back.
+
+"A fire I only dreamed wouldn't be _hot_," she cried.
+
+She sprang up, touched the table, the dishes, the rug; she went to the
+bed and touched the blankets. She took up the soft wadded dressing-gown,
+and suddenly clutched it to her breast and held it to her cheek.
+
+"It's warm. It's soft!" she almost sobbed. "It's real. It must be!"
+
+She threw it over her shoulders, and put her feet into the slippers.
+
+"They are real, too. It's all real!" she cried. "I am _not_--I am _not_
+dreaming!"
+
+She almost staggered to the books and opened the one which lay upon the
+top. Something was written on the fly-leaf--just a few words, and they
+were these:
+
+"To the little girl in the attic. From a friend."
+
+When she saw that--wasn't it a strange thing for her to do?--she put her
+face down upon the page and burst into tears.
+
+"I don't know who it is," she said; "but somebody cares for me a little.
+I have a friend."
+
+She took her candle and stole out of her own room and into Becky's, and
+stood by her bedside.
+
+"Becky, Becky!" she whispered as loudly as she dared. "Wake up!"
+
+When Becky wakened, and she sat upright staring aghast, her face still
+smudged with traces of tears, beside her stood a little figure in a
+luxurious wadded robe of crimson silk. The face she saw was a shining,
+wonderful thing. The Princess Sara--as she remembered her--stood at her
+very bedside, holding a candle in her hand.
+
+"Come," she said. "Oh, Becky, come!"
+
+Becky was too frightened to speak. She simply got up and followed her,
+with her mouth and eyes open, and without a word.
+
+And when they crossed the threshold, Sara shut the door gently and drew
+her into the warm, glowing midst of things which made her brain reel and
+her hungry senses faint.
+
+"It's true! It's true!" she cried. "I've touched them all. They are as
+real as we are. The Magic has come and done it, Becky, while we were
+asleep--the Magic that won't let those worst things _ever_ quite
+happen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE VISITOR
+
+
+Imagine, if you can, what the rest of the evening was like. How they
+crouched by the fire which blazed and leaped and made so much of itself
+in the little grate. How they removed the covers of the dishes, and
+found rich, hot, savory soup, which was a meal in itself, and sandwiches
+and toast and muffins enough for both of them. The mug from the
+washstand was used as Becky's tea-cup, and the tea was so delicious that
+it was not necessary to pretend that it was anything else but tea. They
+were warm and full-fed and happy, and it was just like Sara that, having
+found her strange good fortune real, she should give herself up to the
+enjoyment of it to the utmost. She had lived such a life of imaginings
+that she was quite equal to accepting any wonderful thing that happened,
+and almost to cease, in a short time, to find it bewildering.
+
+"I don't know any one in the world who could have done it," she
+said; "but there has been some one. And here we are sitting by their
+fire--and--and--it's _true_! And whoever it is--wherever they are--I
+have a friend, Becky--some one is my friend."
+
+It cannot be denied that as they sat before the blazing fire, and ate
+the nourishing, comfortable food, they felt a kind of rapturous awe, and
+looked into each other's eyes with something like doubt.
+
+"Do you think," Becky faltered once, in a whisper--"do you think it
+could melt away, miss? Hadn't we better be quick?" And she hastily
+crammed her sandwich into her mouth. If it was only a dream, kitchen
+manners would be overlooked.
+
+"No, it won't melt away," said Sara. "I am _eating_ this muffin, and I
+can taste it. You never really eat things in dreams. You only think you
+are going to eat them. Besides, I keep giving myself pinches; and I
+touched a hot piece of coal just now, on purpose."
+
+The sleepy comfort which at length almost overpowered them was a
+heavenly thing. It was the drowsiness of happy, well-fed childhood, and
+they sat in the fire-glow and luxuriated in it until Sara found herself
+turning to look at her transformed bed.
+
+There were even blankets enough to share with Becky. The narrow couch in
+the next attic was more comfortable that night than its occupant had
+ever dreamed that it could be.
+
+As she went out of the room, Becky turned upon the threshold and looked
+about her with devouring eyes.
+
+"If it ain't here in the mornin', miss," she said, "it's been here
+to-night, anyways, an' I sha'n't never forget it." She looked at
+each particular thing, as if to commit it to memory. "The fire was
+_there_," pointing with her finger, "an' the table was before it; an'
+the lamp was there, an' the light looked rosy red; an' there was a
+satin cover on your bed, an' a warm rug on the floor, an' everythin'
+looked beautiful; an'"--she paused a second, and laid her hand on her
+stomach tenderly--"there _was_ soup an' sandwiches an' muffins--there
+_was_." And, with this conviction a reality at least, she went away.
+
+Through the mysterious agency which works in schools and among servants,
+it was quite well known in the morning that Sara Crewe was in horrible
+disgrace, that Ermengarde was under punishment, and that Becky would
+have been packed out of the house before breakfast, but that a
+scullery-maid could not be dispensed with at once. The servants knew
+that she was allowed to stay because Miss Minchin could not easily find
+another creature helpless and humble enough to work like a bounden slave
+for so few shillings a week. The elder girls in the school-room knew
+that if Miss Minchin did not send Sara away it was for practical reasons
+of her own.
+
+"She's growing so fast and learning such a lot, somehow," said Jessie to
+Lavinia, "that she will be given classes soon, and Miss Minchin knows
+she will have to work for nothing. It was rather nasty of you, Lavvy, to
+tell about her having fun in the garret. How did you find it out?"
+
+"I got it out of Lottie. She's such a baby she didn't know she was
+telling me. There was nothing nasty at all in speaking to Miss Minchin.
+I felt it my duty"--priggishly. "She was being deceitful. And it's
+ridiculous that she should look so grand, and be made so much of, in her
+rags and tatters!"
+
+"What were they doing when Miss Minchin caught them?"
+
+"Pretending some silly thing. Ermengarde had taken up her hamper to
+share with Sara and Becky. She never invites us to share things. Not
+that I care, but it's rather vulgar of her to share with servant-girls
+in attics. I wonder Miss Minchin didn't turn Sara out--even if she does
+want her for a teacher."
+
+"If she was turned out where would she go?" inquired Jessie, a trifle
+anxiously.
+
+"How do I know?" snapped Lavinia. "She'll look rather queer when she
+comes into the school-room this morning, I should think--after what's
+happened. She had no dinner yesterday, and she's not to have any
+to-day."
+
+Jessie was not as ill-natured as she was silly. She picked up her book
+with a little jerk.
+
+"Well, I think it's horrid," she said. "They've no right to starve her
+to death."
+
+When Sara went into the kitchen that morning the cook looked askance at
+her, and so did the housemaids; but she passed them hurriedly. She had,
+in fact, overslept herself a little, and as Becky had done the same,
+neither had had time to see the other, and each had come down-stairs in
+haste.
+
+Sara went into the scullery. Becky was violently scrubbing a kettle, and
+was actually gurgling a little song in her throat. She looked up with a
+wildly elated face.
+
+"It was there when I wakened, miss--the blanket," she whispered
+excitedly. "It was as real as it was last night."
+
+"So was mine," said Sara. "It is all there now--all of it. While I was
+dressing I ate some of the cold things we left."
+
+"Oh, laws! oh, laws!" Becky uttered the exclamation in a sort of
+rapturous groan, and ducked her head over her kettle just in time, as
+the cook came in from the kitchen.
+
+Miss Minchin had expected to see in Sara, when she appeared in the
+school-room, very much what Lavinia had expected to see. Sara had always
+been an annoying puzzle to her, because severity never made her cry
+or look frightened. When she was scolded she stood still and listened
+politely with a grave face; when she was punished she performed her
+extra tasks or went without her meals, making no complaint or outward
+sign of rebellion. The very fact that she never made an impudent
+answer seemed to Miss Minchin a kind of impudence in itself. But after
+yesterday's deprivation of meals, the violent scene of last night, the
+prospect of hunger to-day, she must surely have broken down. It would
+be strange indeed if she did not come down-stairs with pale cheeks and
+red eyes and an unhappy, humbled face.
+
+Miss Minchin saw her for the first time when she entered the school-room
+to hear the little French class its lessons and superintend its
+exercises. And she came in with a springing step, color in her cheeks,
+and a smile hovering about the corners of her mouth. It was the most
+astonishing thing Miss Minchin had ever known. It gave her quite a
+shock. What was the child made of? What could such a thing mean? She
+called her at once to her desk.
+
+"You do not look as if you realize that you are in disgrace," she said.
+"Are you absolutely hardened?"
+
+The truth is that when one is still a child--or even if one is grown
+up--and has been well fed, and has slept long and softly and warm; when
+one has gone to sleep in the midst of a fairy story, and has wakened to
+find it real, one cannot be unhappy or even look as if one were; and one
+could not, if one tried, keep a glow of joy out of one's eyes. Miss
+Minchin was almost struck dumb by the look of Sara's eyes when she
+lifted them and made her perfectly respectful answer.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Miss Minchin," she said; "I know that I am in
+disgrace."
+
+"Be good enough not to forget it and look as if you had come into a
+fortune. It is an impertinence. And remember you are to have no food
+to-day."
+
+"Yes, Miss Minchin," Sara answered; but as she turned away her heart
+leaped with the memory of what yesterday had been. "If the Magic had not
+saved me just in time," she thought, "how horrible it would have been!"
+
+"She can't be very hungry," whispered Lavinia. "Just look at her.
+Perhaps she is pretending she has had a good breakfast"--with a spiteful
+laugh.
+
+"She's different from other people," said Jessie, watching Sara with her
+class. "Sometimes I'm a bit frightened of her."
+
+"Ridiculous thing!" ejaculated Lavinia.
+
+All through the day the light was in Sara's face, and the color in her
+cheek. The servants cast puzzled glances at her, and whispered to
+each other, and Miss Amelia's small blue eyes wore an expression of
+bewilderment. What such an audacious look of well-being, under august
+displeasure, could mean she could not understand. It was, however, just
+like Sara's singular obstinate way. She was probably determined to brave
+the matter out.
+
+One thing Sara had resolved upon, as she thought things over. The
+wonders which had happened must be kept a secret, if such a thing were
+possible. If Miss Minchin should choose to mount to the attic again, of
+course all would be discovered. But it did not seem likely that she
+would do so for some time at least, unless she was led by suspicion.
+Ermengarde and Lottie would be watched with such strictness that they
+would not dare to steal out of their beds again. Ermengarde could be
+told the story and trusted to keep it secret. If Lottie made any
+discoveries, she could be bound to secrecy also. Perhaps the Magic
+itself would help to hide its own marvels.
+
+"But whatever happens," Sara kept saying to herself all day--"what_ever_
+happens, somewhere in the world there is a heavenly kind person who is
+my friend--my friend. If I never know who it is--if I never can even
+thank him--I shall never feel quite so lonely. Oh, the Magic was _good_
+to me!"
+
+If it was possible for weather to be worse than it had been the day
+before, it was worse this day--wetter, muddier, colder. There were more
+errands to be done, the cook was more irritable, and, knowing that Sara
+was in disgrace, she was more savage. But what does anything matter when
+one's Magic has just proved itself one's friend. Sara's supper of the
+night before had given her strength, she knew that she should sleep well
+and warmly, and, even though she had naturally begun to be hungry again
+before evening, she felt that she could bear it until breakfast-time on
+the following day, when her meals would surely be given to her again. It
+was quite late when she was at last allowed to go up-stairs. She had
+been told to go into the school-room and study until ten o'clock, and
+she had become interested in her work, and remained over her books
+later.
+
+When she reached the top flight of stairs and stood before the attic
+door, it must be confessed that her heart beat rather fast.
+
+"Of course it _might_ all have been taken away," she whispered, trying
+to be brave. "It might only have been lent to me for just that one awful
+night. But it _was_ lent to me--I had it. It was real."
+
+She pushed the door open and went in. Once inside, she gasped slightly,
+shut the door, and stood with her back against it, looking from side to
+side.
+
+The Magic had been there again. It actually had, and it had done even
+more than before. The fire was blazing, in lovely leaping flames, more
+merrily than ever. A number of new things had been brought into the
+attic which so altered the look of it that if she had not been past
+doubting, she would have rubbed her eyes. Upon the low table another
+supper stood--this time with cups and plates for Becky as well as
+herself; a piece of bright, heavy, strange embroidery 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 of rich colors had been
+fastened against the wall with fine, sharp tacks--so sharp that they
+could be pressed into the wood and plaster without hammering. Some
+brilliant fans were pinned up, and there were several large cushions,
+big and substantial enough to use as seats. A wooden box was covered
+with a rug, and some cushions lay on it, so that it wore quite the air
+of a sofa.
+
+Sara slowly moved away from the door and simply sat down and looked and
+looked again.
+
+"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
+or bags of gold--and they would appear! _That_ wouldn't be any stranger
+than this. Is this my garret? Am I the same cold, ragged, damp Sara? And
+to think I used to pretend and pretend and wish there were fairies!
+The one thing I always wanted was to see a fairy story come true. I am
+_living_ in a fairy story. I feel as if I might be a fairy myself, and
+able to turn things into anything else."
+
+She rose and knocked upon the wall for the prisoner in the next cell,
+and the prisoner came.
+
+When she entered she almost dropped in a heap upon the floor. For a few
+seconds she quite lost her breath.
+
+"Oh, laws!" she gasped, "Oh, laws, miss!" just as she had done in the
+scullery.
+
+"You see," said Sara.
+
+On this night Becky sat on a cushion upon the hearth-rug and had a cup
+and saucer of her own.
+
+When Sara went to bed she found that she had a new thick mattress and
+big downy pillows. Her old mattress and pillow had been removed to
+Becky's bedstead, and, consequently, with these additions Becky had been
+supplied with unheard-of comfort.
+
+"Where does it all come from?" Becky broke forth once. "Laws! who does
+it, miss?"
+
+"Don't let us even _ask_" said Sara. "If it were not that I want to say,
+'Oh, thank you,' I would rather not know. It makes it more beautiful."
+
+From that time life became more wonderful day by day. The fairy story
+continued. Almost every day something new was done. Some new comfort or
+ornament appeared each time Sara opened the door at night, until in a
+short time the attic was a beautiful little room full of all sorts of
+odd and luxurious things. The ugly walls were gradually entirely covered
+with pictures and draperies, ingenious pieces of folding furniture
+appeared, a book-shelf was hung up and filled with books, new comforts
+and conveniences appeared one by one, until there seemed nothing left to
+be desired. When Sara went down-stairs in the morning, the remains of
+the supper were on the table; and when she returned to the attic in the
+evening, the magician had removed them and left another nice little
+meal. Miss Minchin was as harsh and insulting as ever, Miss Amelia as
+peevish, and the servants were as vulgar and rude. Sara was sent on
+errands in all weathers, and scolded and driven hither and thither; she
+was scarcely allowed to speak to Ermengarde and Lottie; Lavinia sneered
+at the increasing shabbiness of her clothes; and the other girls stared
+curiously at her when she appeared in the school-room. But what did it
+all matter while she was living in this wonderful mysterious story? It
+was more romantic and delightful than anything she had ever invented to
+comfort her starved young soul and save herself from despair. Sometimes,
+when she was scolded, she could scarcely keep from smiling.
+
+"If you only knew!" she was saying to herself. "If you only knew!"
+
+The comfort and happiness she enjoyed were making her stronger, and she
+had them always to look forward to. If she came home from her errands
+wet and tired and hungry, she knew she would soon be warm and well fed
+after she had climbed the stairs. During the hardest day she could
+occupy herself blissfully by thinking of what she should see when she
+opened the attic door, and wondering what new delight had been prepared
+for her. In a very short time she began to look less thin. Color came
+into her cheeks, and her eyes did not seem so much too big for her face.
+
+"Sara Crewe looks wonderfully well," Miss Minchin remarked
+disapprovingly to her sister.
+
+"Yes," answered poor, silly Miss Amelia. "She is absolutely fattening.
+She was beginning to look like a little starved crow."
+
+"Starved!" exclaimed Miss Minchin, angrily. "There was no reason why she
+should look starved. She always had plenty to eat!"
+
+"Of--of course," agreed Miss Amelia, humbly, alarmed to find that she
+had, as usual, said the wrong thing.
+
+"There is something very disagreeable in seeing that sort of thing in a
+child of her age," said Miss Minchin, with haughty vagueness.
+
+"What--sort of thing?" Miss Amelia ventured.
+
+"It might almost be called defiance," answered Miss Minchin, feeling
+annoyed because she knew the thing she resented was nothing like
+defiance, and she did not know what other unpleasant term to use. "The
+spirit and will of any other child would have been entirely humbled and
+broken by--by the changes she has had to submit to. But, upon my word,
+she seems as little subdued as if--as if she were a princess."
+
+"Do you remember," put in the unwise Miss Amelia, "what she said to you
+that day in the school-room about what you would do if you found out
+that she was--"
+
+"No, I don't," said Miss Minchin. "Don't talk nonsense." But she
+remembered very clearly indeed.
+
+Very naturally, even Becky was beginning to look plumper and less
+frightened. She could not help it. She had her share in the secret fairy
+story, too. She had two mattresses, two pillows, plenty of bed-covering,
+and every night a hot supper and a seat on the cushions by the fire.
+The Bastille had melted away, the prisoners no longer existed. Two
+comforted children sat in the midst of delights. Sometimes Sara read
+aloud from her books, sometimes she learned her own lessons, sometimes
+she sat and looked into the fire and tried to imagine who her friend
+could be, and wished she could say to him some of the things in her
+heart.
+
+Then it came about 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 right-hand attic."
+
+Sara herself was sent to open the door and took them in. She laid the
+two largest parcels on the hall table, and was looking at the address,
+when Miss Minchin came down the stairs and saw her.
+
+"Take the things to the young lady to whom they belong," she said
+severely. "Don't stand there staring at them."
+
+"They belong to me," answered Sara, quietly.
+
+"To you?" exclaimed Miss Minchin. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I don't know where they come from," said Sara, "but they are addressed
+to me. I sleep in the right-hand attic. Becky has the other one."
+
+Miss Minchin came to her side and looked at the parcels with an excited
+expression.
+
+"What is in them?" she demanded.
+
+"I don't know," replied Sara.
+
+"Open them," she ordered.
+
+Sara did as she was told. When the packages were unfolded Miss
+Minchin's countenance wore suddenly a singular expression. What she saw
+was pretty and comfortable clothing--clothing of different kinds: shoes,
+stockings, and gloves, and a warm and beautiful coat. There were even a
+nice hat and an umbrella. They were all good and expensive things, and
+on the pocket of the coat was pinned a paper, on which were written
+these words: "To be worn every day.--Will be replaced by others when
+necessary."
+
+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 neglected child had some powerful
+though eccentric friend in the background--perhaps some previously
+unknown relation, who had suddenly traced her whereabouts, and chose to
+provide for her in this mysterious and fantastic way? Relations were
+sometimes very odd--particularly rich old bachelor uncles, who did not
+care for having children near them. A man of that sort might prefer to
+overlook his young relation's welfare at a distance. Such a person,
+however, would be sure to be crotchety and hot-tempered enough to be
+easily offended. It would not be very pleasant if there were such a one,
+and he should learn all the truth about the thin, shabby clothes, the
+scant food, and the hard work. She felt very queer indeed, and very
+uncertain, and she gave a side glance at Sara.
+
+"Well," she said, in a voice such as she had never used since the little
+girl lost her father, "some one is very kind to you. As the things have
+been sent, and you are to have new ones when they are worn out, you may
+as well go and put them on and look respectable. After you are dressed
+you may come down-stairs and learn your lessons in the school-room. You
+need not go out on any more errands to-day."
+
+About half an hour afterward, when the school-room door opened and Sara
+walked in, the entire seminary was struck dumb with amazement.
+
+"My word!" ejaculated Jessie, jogging Lavinia's elbow. "Look at the
+Princess Sara!"
+
+Everybody was looking, and when Lavinia looked she turned quite red.
+
+It was the Princess Sara indeed. At least, since the days when she had
+been a princess, Sara had never looked as she did now. She did not seem
+the Sara they had seen come down the back stairs a few hours ago. She
+was dressed in the kind of frock Lavinia had been used to envying her
+the possession of. It was deep and warm in color, and beautifully made.
+Her slender feet looked as they had done when Jessie had admired them,
+and the hair, whose heavy locks had made her look rather like a Shetland
+pony when it fell loose about her small, odd face, was tied back with a
+ribbon.
+
+"Perhaps some one has left her a fortune," Jessie whispered. "I always
+thought something would happen to her. She is so queer."
+
+"Perhaps the diamond-mines have suddenly appeared again," said Lavinia,
+scathingly. "Don't please her by staring at her in that way, you silly
+thing."
+
+"Sara," broke in Miss Minchin's deep voice, "come and sit here."
+
+And while the whole school-room stared and pushed with elbows, and
+scarcely made any effort to conceal its excited curiosity, Sara went to
+her old seat of honor, and bent her head over her books.
+
+That night, when she went to her room, after she and Becky had eaten
+their supper she sat and looked at the fire seriously for a long time.
+
+"Are you making something up in your head, miss?" Becky inquired with
+respectful softness. When Sara sat in silence and looked into the coals
+with dreaming eyes it generally meant that she was making a new story.
+But this time she was not, and she shook her head.
+
+"No," she answered. "I am wondering what I ought to do."
+
+Becky stared--still respectfully. She was filled with something
+approaching reverence for everything Sara did and said.
+
+"I can't help thinking about my friend," Sara explained. "If he wants to
+keep himself a secret, it would be rude to try and find out who he is.
+But I do so want him to know how thankful I am to him--and how happy he
+has made me. Any one who is kind wants to know when people have been
+made happy. They care for that more than for being thanked. I wish--I do
+wish--"
+
+She stopped short because her eyes at that instant fell upon something
+standing on a table in a corner. It was something she had found in the
+room when she came up to it only two days before. It was a little
+writing-case fitted with paper and envelopes and pens and ink.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "why did I not think of that before?"
+
+She rose and went to the corner and brought the case back to the fire.
+
+"I can write to him," she said joyfully, "and leave it on the table.
+Then perhaps the person who takes the things away will take it, too. I
+won't ask him anything. He won't mind my thanking him, I feel sure."
+
+So she wrote a note. This is what she said:
+
+  "I hope you will not think it is impolite that I should write this
+  note to you when you wish to keep yourself a secret. Please believe
+  I do not mean to be impolite or try to find out anything at all;
+  only I want to thank you for being so kind to me--so heavenly
+  kind--and making everything like a fairy story. I am so grateful
+  to you, and I am so happy--and so is Becky. Becky feels just as
+  thankful as I do--it is all just as beautiful and wonderful to her
+  as it is to me. We used to be so lonely and cold and hungry, and
+  now--oh, just think what you have done for us! Please let me say
+  just these words. It seems as if I _ought_ to say them. _Thank_
+  you--_thank_ you--_thank_ you!
+
+                             "THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE ATTIC."
+
+The next morning she left this on the little table, and in the evening
+it had been taken away with the other things; so she knew the Magician
+had received it, and she was happier for the thought. She was reading
+one of her new books to Becky just before they went to their respective
+beds, when her attention was attracted by a sound at the skylight. When
+she looked up from her page she saw that Becky had heard the sound also,
+as she had turned her head to look and was listening rather nervously.
+
+"Something's there, miss," she whispered.
+
+"Yes," said Sara, slowly. "It sounds--rather like a cat--trying to get
+in."
+
+She left her chair and went to the skylight. It was a queer little sound
+she heard--like a soft scratching. She suddenly remembered something and
+laughed. She remembered a quaint little intruder who had made his way
+into the attic once before. She had seen him that very afternoon,
+sitting disconsolately on a table before a window in the Indian
+gentleman's house.
+
+"Suppose," she whispered in pleased excitement--"just suppose it was the
+monkey who had got away again. Oh, I wish it was!"
+
+She climbed on a chair, very cautiously raised the skylight, and peeped
+out. It had been snowing all day, and on the snow, quite near her,
+crouched a tiny, shivering figure, whose small black face wrinkled
+itself piteously at sight of her.
+
+"It _is_ the monkey," she cried out. "He has crept out of the Lascar's
+attic, and he saw the light."
+
+Becky ran to her side.
+
+"Are you going to let him in, miss?" she said.
+
+"Yes," Sara answered joyfully. "It's too cold for monkeys to be out.
+They're delicate. I'll coax him in."
+
+She put a hand out delicately, speaking in a coaxing voice--as she spoke
+to the sparrows and to Melchisedec--as if she were some friendly little
+animal herself and lovingly understood their timid wildness.
+
+"Come along, monkey darling," she said. "I won't hurt you."
+
+He knew she would not hurt him. He knew it before she laid her soft,
+caressing little paw on him and drew him toward her. He had felt human
+love in the slim brown hands of Ram Dass, and he felt it in hers. He let
+her lift him through the skylight, and when he found himself in her arms
+he cuddled up to her breast and took friendly hold of a piece of her
+hair, looking up into her face.
+
+"Nice monkey! Nice monkey!" she crooned, kissing his funny head. "Oh, I
+do love little animal things."
+
+[Illustration: She sat down and held him on her knee.]
+
+He was evidently glad to get to the fire, and when she sat down and held
+him on her knee he looked from her to Becky with mingled interest and
+appreciation.
+
+"He _is_ plain-looking, miss, ain't he?" said Becky.
+
+"He looks like a very ugly baby," laughed Sara. "I beg your pardon,
+monkey; but I'm glad you are not a baby. Your mother _couldn't_ be proud
+of you, and no one would dare to say you looked like any of your
+relations. Oh, I do like you!"
+
+She leaned back in her chair and reflected.
+
+"Perhaps he's sorry he's so ugly," she said, "and it's always on his
+mind. I wonder if he _has_ a mind. Monkey, my love, have you a mind?"
+
+But the monkey only put up a tiny paw and scratched his head.
+
+"What shall you do with him?" Becky asked.
+
+"I shall let him sleep with me to-night, and then take him back to the
+Indian gentleman to-morrow. I am sorry to take you back, monkey; but you
+must go. You ought to be fondest of your own family; and I'm not a
+_real_ relation."
+
+And when she went to bed she made him a nest at her feet, and he curled
+up and slept there as if he were a baby and much pleased with his
+quarters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+"IT IS THE CHILD!"
+
+
+The next afternoon three members of the Large Family sat in the Indian
+gentleman's library, doing their best to cheer him up. They had been
+allowed to come in to perform this office because he had specially
+invited them. He had been living in a state of suspense for some time,
+and to-day he was waiting for a certain event very anxiously. This event
+was the return of Mr. Carmichael from Moscow. His stay there had been
+prolonged from week to week. On his first arrival there, he had not been
+able satisfactorily to trace the family he had gone in search of. When
+he felt at last sure that he had found them and had gone to their house,
+he had been told that they were absent on a journey. His efforts to
+reach them had been unavailing, so he had decided to remain in Moscow
+until their return. Mr. Carrisford sat in his reclining-chair, and Janet
+sat on the floor beside him. He was very fond of Janet. Nora had found a
+footstool, and Donald was astride the tiger's head which ornamented the
+rug made of the animal's skin. It must be owned that he was riding it
+rather violently.
+
+"Don't chirrup so loud, Donald," Janet said. "When you come to cheer an
+ill person up you don't cheer him up at the top of your voice. Perhaps
+cheering up is too loud, Mr. Carrisford?" turning to the Indian
+gentleman.
+
+But he only patted her shoulder.
+
+"No, it isn't," he answered. "And it keeps me from thinking too much."
+
+"I'm going to be quiet," Donald shouted. "We'll all be as quiet as
+mice."
+
+"Mice don't make a noise like that," said Janet.
+
+Donald made a bridle of his handkerchief and bounced up and down on the
+tiger's head.
+
+"A whole lot of mice might," he said cheerfully. "A thousand mice
+might."
+
+"I don't believe fifty thousand mice would," said Janet, severely; "and
+we have to be as quiet as _one_ mouse."
+
+Mr. Carrisford laughed and patted her shoulder again.
+
+"Papa won't be very long now," she said. "May we talk about the lost
+little girl?"
+
+"I don't think I could talk much about anything else just now," the
+Indian gentleman answered, knitting his forehead with a tired look.
+
+"We like her so much," said Nora. "We call her the little _un_-fairy
+princess."
+
+"Why?" the Indian gentleman inquired, because the fancies of the Large
+Family always made him forget things a little.
+
+It was Janet who answered.
+
+"It is because, though she is not exactly a fairy, she will be so rich
+when she is found that she will be like a princess in a fairy tale. We
+called her the fairy princess at first, but it didn't quite suit."
+
+"Is it true," said Nora, "that her papa gave all his money to a friend
+to put in a mine that had diamonds in it, and then the friend thought he
+had lost it all and ran away because he felt as if he was a robber?"
+
+"But he wasn't really, you know," put in Janet, hastily.
+
+The Indian gentleman took hold of her hand quickly.
+
+"No, he wasn't really," he said.
+
+"I am sorry for the friend," Janet said; "I can't help it. He didn't
+mean to do it, and it would break his heart. I am sure it would break
+his heart."
+
+"You are an understanding little woman, Janet," the Indian gentleman
+said, and he held her hand close.
+
+"Did you tell Mr. Carrisford," Donald shouted again, "about the
+little-girl-who-isn't-a-beggar? Did you tell him she has new nice
+clothes? P'r'aps she's been found by somebody when she was lost."
+
+"There's a cab!" exclaimed Janet. "It's stopping before the door. It is
+papa!"
+
+They all ran to the windows to look out.
+
+"Yes, it's papa," Donald proclaimed. "But there is no little girl."
+
+All three of them incontinently fled from the room and tumbled into the
+hall. It was in this way they always welcomed their father. They were to
+be heard jumping up and down, clapping their hands, and being caught up
+and kissed.
+
+Mr. Carrisford made an effort to rise and sank back again into his
+chair.
+
+"It is no use," he said. "What a wreck I am!"
+
+Mr. Carmichael's voice approached the door.
+
+"No, children," he was saying; "you may come in after I have talked to
+Mr. Carrisford. Go and play with Ram Dass."
+
+Then the door opened and he came in. He looked rosier than ever, and
+brought an atmosphere of freshness and health with him; but his eyes
+were disappointed and anxious as they met the invalid's look of eager
+question even as they grasped each other's hands.
+
+"What news?" Mr. Carrisford asked. "The child the Russian people
+adopted?"
+
+"She is not the child we are looking for," was Mr. Carmichael's answer.
+"She is much younger than Captain Crewe's little girl. Her name is Emily
+Carew. I have seen and talked to her. The Russians were able to give me
+every detail."
+
+How wearied and miserable the Indian gentleman looked! His hand dropped
+from Mr. Carmichael's.
+
+"Then the search has to be begun over again," he said. "That is all.
+Please sit down."
+
+Mr. Carmichael took a seat. Somehow, he had gradually grown fond of this
+unhappy man. He was himself so well and happy, and so surrounded by
+cheerfulness and love, that desolation and broken health seemed
+pitifully unbearable things. If there had been the sound of just one gay
+little high-pitched voice in the house, it would have been so much less
+forlorn. And that a man should be compelled to carry about in his breast
+the thought that he had seemed to wrong and desert a child was not a
+thing one could face.
+
+"Come, come," he said in his cheery voice; "we'll find her yet."
+
+"We must begin at once. No time must be lost," Mr. Carrisford fretted.
+"Have you any new suggestion to make--any whatsoever?"
+
+Mr. Carmichael felt rather restless, and he rose and began to pace the
+room with a thoughtful, though uncertain face.
+
+"Well, perhaps," he said. "I don't know what it may be worth. The fact
+is, an idea occurred to me as I was thinking the thing over in the train
+on the journey from Dover."
+
+"What was it? If she is alive, she is somewhere."
+
+"Yes; she is _somewhere_. We have searched the schools in Paris. Let us
+give up Paris and begin in London. That was my idea--to search London."
+
+"There are schools enough in London," said Mr. Carrisford. Then he
+slightly started, roused by a recollection. "By the way, there is one
+next door."
+
+"Then we will begin there. We cannot begin nearer than next door."
+
+"No," said Carrisford. "There is a child there who interests me; but she
+is not a pupil. And she is a little dark, forlorn creature, as unlike
+poor Crewe as a child could be."
+
+Perhaps the Magic was at work again at that very moment--the beautiful
+Magic. It really seemed as if it might be so. What was it that brought
+Ram Dass into the room--even as his master spoke--salaaming
+respectfully, but with a scarcely concealed touch of excitement in his
+dark, flashing eyes?
+
+"Sahib," he said, "the child herself has come--the child the sahib felt
+pity for. She brings back the monkey who had again run away to her attic
+under the roof. I have asked that she remain. It was my thought that it
+would please the sahib to see and speak with her."
+
+"Who is she?" inquired Mr. Carmichael.
+
+"God knows," Mr. Carrisford answered. "She is the child I spoke of.
+A little drudge at the school." He waved his hand to Ram Dass, and
+addressed him. "Yes, I should like to see her. Go and bring her in."
+Then he turned to Mr. Carmichael. "While you have been away," he
+explained, "I have been desperate. The days were so dark and long.
+Ram Dass told me of this child's miseries, and together we invented a
+romantic plan to help her. I suppose it was a childish thing to do; but
+it gave me something to plan and think of. Without the help of an agile,
+soft-footed Oriental like Ram Dass, however, it could not have been
+done."
+
+Then Sara came into the room. She carried the monkey in her arms, and
+he evidently did not intend to part from her, if it could be helped.
+He was clinging to her and chattering, and the interesting excitement
+of finding herself in the Indian gentleman's room had brought a flush
+to Sara's cheeks.
+
+"Your monkey ran away again," she said, in her pretty voice. "He came
+to my garret window last night, and I took him in because it was so
+cold. I would have brought him back if it had not been so late. I knew
+you were ill and might not like to be disturbed."
+
+The Indian gentleman's hollow eyes dwelt on her with curious interest.
+
+"That was very thoughtful of you," he said.
+
+Sara looked toward Ram Dass, who stood near the door.
+
+"Shall I give him to the Lascar?" she asked.
+
+"How do you know he is a Lascar?" said the Indian gentleman, smiling a
+little.
+
+"Oh, I know Lascars," Sara said, handing over the reluctant monkey. "I
+was born in India."
+
+The Indian gentleman sat upright so suddenly, and with such a change of
+expression, that she was for a moment quite startled.
+
+"You were born in India," he exclaimed, "were you? Come here." And he
+held out his hand.
+
+Sara went to him and laid her hand in his, as he seemed to want to take
+it. She stood still, and her green-gray eyes met his wonderingly.
+Something seemed to be the matter with him.
+
+"You live next door?" he demanded.
+
+"Yes; I live at Miss Minchin's seminary."
+
+"But you are not one of her pupils?"
+
+A strange little smile hovered about Sara's mouth. She hesitated a
+moment.
+
+"I don't think I know exactly _what_ I am," she replied.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"At first I was a pupil, and a parlor-boarder; but now--"
+
+"You were a pupil! What are you now?"
+
+The queer little sad smile was on Sara's lips again.
+
+"I sleep in the attic, next to the scullery-maid," she said. "I run
+errands for the cook--I do anything she tells me; and I teach the little
+ones their lessons."
+
+"Question her, Carmichael," said Mr. Carrisford, sinking back as if he
+had lost his strength. "Question her; I cannot."
+
+The big, kind father of the Large Family knew how to question little
+girls. Sara realized how much practice he had had when he spoke to her
+in his nice, encouraging voice.
+
+"What do you mean by 'At first,' my child?" he inquired.
+
+"When I was first taken there by my papa."
+
+"Where is your papa?"
+
+"He died," said Sara, very quietly. "He lost all his money and there was
+none left for me. There was no one to take care of me or to pay Miss
+Minchin."
+
+"Carmichael!" the Indian gentleman cried out loudly; "Carmichael!"
+
+"We must not frighten her," Mr. Carmichael said aside to him in a quick,
+low voice; and he added aloud to Sara: "So you were sent up into the
+attic, and made into a little drudge. That was about it, wasn't it?"
+
+"There was no one to take care of me," said Sara. "There was no money; I
+belong to nobody."
+
+"How did your father lose his money?" the Indian gentleman broke in
+breathlessly.
+
+"He did not lose it himself," Sara answered, wondering still more each
+moment. "He had a friend he was very fond of--he was _very_ fond of him.
+It was his friend who took his money. He trusted his friend too much."
+
+The Indian gentleman's breath came more quickly.
+
+"The friend might have _meant_ to do no harm," he said. "It might have
+happened through a mistake."
+
+Sara did not know how unrelenting her quiet young voice sounded as she
+answered. If she had known, she would surely have tried to soften it for
+the Indian gentleman's sake.
+
+"The suffering was just as bad for my papa," she said. "It killed him."
+
+"What was your father's name?" the Indian gentleman said. "Tell me."
+
+"His name was Ralph Crewe," Sara answered, feeling startled. "Captain
+Crewe. He died in India."
+
+The haggard face contracted, and Ram Dass sprang to his master's side.
+
+"Carmichael," the invalid gasped, "it is the child--the child!"
+
+For a moment Sara thought he was going to die. Ram Dass poured out drops
+from a bottle, and held them to his lips. Sara stood near, trembling a
+little. She looked in a bewildered way at Mr. Carmichael.
+
+"What child am I?" she faltered.
+
+"He was your father's friend," Mr. Carmichael answered her. "Don't be
+frightened. We have been looking for you for two years."
+
+Sara put her hand up to her forehead, and her mouth trembled. She spoke
+as if she were in a dream.
+
+"And I was at Miss Minchin's all the while," she half whispered. "Just
+on the other side of the wall."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+"I TRIED NOT TO BE"
+
+
+It was pretty, comfortable Mrs. Carmichael who explained everything. She
+was sent for at once, and came across the square to take Sara into her
+warm arms and make clear to her all that had happened. The excitement of
+the totally unexpected discovery had been temporarily almost
+overpowering to Mr. Carrisford in his weak condition.
+
+"Upon my word," he said faintly to Mr. Carmichael, when it was suggested
+that the little girl should go into another room, "I feel as if I do not
+want to lose sight of her."
+
+"I will take care of her," Janet said, "and mamma will come in a few
+minutes." And it was Janet who led her away.
+
+"We're so glad you are found," she said. "You don't know how glad we are
+that you are found."
+
+Donald stood with his hands in his pockets, and gazed at Sara with
+reflecting and self-reproachful eyes.
+
+"If I'd just asked what your name was when I gave you my sixpence," he
+said, "you would have told me it was Sara Crewe, and then you would
+have been found in a minute."
+
+Then Mrs. Carmichael came in. She looked very much moved, and suddenly
+took Sara in her arms and kissed her.
+
+"You look bewildered, poor child," she said. "And it is not to be
+wondered at."
+
+Sara could only think of one thing.
+
+"Was he," she said, with a glance toward the closed door of the
+library--"was _he_ the wicked friend? Oh, do tell me!"
+
+Mrs. Carmichael was crying as she kissed her again. She felt as if she
+ought to be kissed very often because she had not been kissed for so
+long.
+
+"He was not wicked, my dear," she answered. "He did not really lose your
+papa's money. He only thought he had lost it; and because he loved him
+so much his grief made him so ill that for a time he was not in his
+right mind. He almost died of brain-fever, and long before he began to
+recover your poor papa was dead."
+
+"And he did not know where to find me," murmured Sara. "And I was so
+near." Somehow, she could not forget that she had been so near.
+
+"He believed you were in school in France," Mrs. Carmichael explained.
+"And he was continually misled by false clues. He has looked for you
+everywhere. When he saw you pass by, looking so sad and neglected, he
+did not dream that you were his friend's poor child; but because you
+were a little girl, too, he was sorry for you, and wanted to make you
+happier. And he told Ram Dass to climb into your attic window and try
+to make you comfortable."
+
+Sara gave a start of joy; her whole look changed.
+
+"Did Ram Dass bring the things?" she cried out; "did he tell Ram Dass to
+do it? Did he make the dream that came true!"
+
+"Yes, my dear--yes! He is kind and good, and he was sorry for you, for
+little lost Sara Crewe's sake."
+
+The library door opened and Mr. Carmichael appeared, calling Sara to him
+with a gesture.
+
+"Mr. Carrisford is better already," he said. "He wants you to come to
+him."
+
+Sara did not wait. When the Indian gentleman looked at her as she
+entered, he saw that her face was all alight.
+
+She went and stood before his chair, with her hands clasped together
+against her breast.
+
+"You sent the things to me," she said, in a joyful emotional little
+voice--"the beautiful, beautiful things? _You_ sent them!"
+
+"Yes, poor, dear child, I did," he answered her. He was weak and broken
+with long illness and trouble, but he looked at her with the look she
+remembered in her father's eyes--that look of loving her and wanting to
+take her in his arms. It made her kneel down by him, just as she used to
+kneel by her father when they were the dearest friends and lovers in the
+world.
+
+"Then it is you who are my friend," she said; "it is you who are my
+friend!" And she dropped her face on his thin hand and kissed it again
+and again.
+
+"The man will be himself again in three weeks," Mr. Carmichael said
+aside to his wife. "Look at his face already."
+
+In fact, he did look changed. Here was the "little missus," and he had
+new things to think of and plan for already. In the first place, there
+was Miss Minchin. She must be interviewed and told of the change which
+had taken place in the fortunes of her pupil.
+
+Sara was not to return to the seminary at all. The Indian gentleman was
+very determined upon that point. She must remain where she was, and Mr.
+Carmichael should go and see Miss Minchin himself.
+
+"I am glad I need not go back," said Sara. "She will be very angry. She
+does not like me; though perhaps it is my fault, because I do not like
+her."
+
+But, oddly enough, Miss Minchin made it unnecessary for Mr. Carmichael
+to go to her, by actually coming in search of her pupil herself. She had
+wanted Sara for something, and on inquiry had heard an astonishing
+thing. One of the housemaids had seen her steal out of the area with
+something hidden under her cloak, and had also seen her go up the steps
+of the next door and enter the house.
+
+"What does she mean!" cried Miss Minchin to Miss Amelia.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure, sister," answered Miss Amelia. "Unless she has
+made friends with him because he has lived in India."
+
+"It would be just like her to thrust herself upon him and try to gain
+his sympathies in some such impertinent fashion," said Miss Minchin.
+"She must have been in the house two hours. I will not allow such
+presumption. I shall go and inquire into the matter, and apologize for
+her intrusion."
+
+Sara was sitting on a footstool close to Mr. Carrisford's knee, and
+listening to some of the many things he felt it necessary to try to
+explain to her, when Ram Dass announced the visitor's arrival.
+
+Sara rose involuntarily, and became rather pale; but Mr. Carrisford saw
+that she stood quietly, and showed none of the ordinary signs of child
+terror.
+
+Miss Minchin entered the room with a sternly dignified manner. She was
+correctly and well dressed, and rigidly polite.
+
+"I am sorry to disturb Mr. Carrisford," she said; "but I have
+explanations to make. I am Miss Minchin, the proprietress of the Young
+Ladies' Seminary next door."
+
+The Indian gentleman looked at her for a moment in silent scrutiny. He
+was a man who had naturally a rather hot temper, and he did not wish it
+to get too much the better of him.
+
+"So you are Miss Minchin?" he said.
+
+"I am, sir."
+
+"In that case," the Indian gentleman replied, "you have arrived at the
+right time. My solicitor, Mr. Carmichael, was just on the point of going
+to see you."
+
+Mr. Carmichael bowed slightly, and Miss Minchin looked from him to Mr.
+Carrisford in amazement.
+
+"Your solicitor!" she said. "I do not understand. I have come here as a
+matter of duty. I have just discovered that you have been intruded upon
+through the forwardness of one of my pupils--a charity pupil. I came to
+explain that she intruded without my knowledge." She turned upon Sara.
+"Go home at once," she commanded indignantly. "You shall be severely
+punished. Go home at once."
+
+The Indian gentleman drew Sara to his side and patted her hand.
+
+"She is not going."
+
+Miss Minchin felt rather as if she must be losing her senses.
+
+"Not going!" she repeated.
+
+"No," said Mr. Carrisford. "She is not going _home_--if you give your
+house that name. Her home for the future will be with me."
+
+Miss Minchin fell back in amazed indignation.
+
+"With _you_! With _you_, sir! What does this mean?"
+
+"Kindly explain the matter, Carmichael," said the Indian gentleman; "and
+get it over as quickly as possible." And he made Sara sit down again,
+and held her hands in his--which was another trick of her papa's.
+
+Then Mr. Carmichael explained--in the quiet, level-toned, steady manner
+of a man who knew his subject, and all its legal significance, which was
+a thing Miss Minchin understood as a business woman, and did not enjoy.
+
+"Mr. Carrisford, madam," he said, "was an intimate friend of the late
+Captain Crewe. He was his partner in certain large investments. The
+fortune which Captain Crewe supposed he had lost has been recovered,
+and is now in Mr. Carrisford's hands."
+
+"The fortune!" cried Miss Minchin; and she really lost color as she
+uttered the exclamation. "Sara's fortune!"
+
+"It _will_ be Sara's fortune," replied Mr. Carmichael, rather coldly.
+"It _is_ Sara's fortune now, in fact. Certain events have increased it
+enormously. The diamond-mines have retrieved themselves."
+
+"The diamond-mines!" Miss Minchin gasped out. If this was true, nothing
+so horrible, she felt, had ever happened to her since she was born.
+
+"The diamond-mines," Mr. Carmichael repeated, and he could not help
+adding, with a rather sly, unlawyer-like smile: "There are not many
+princesses, Miss Minchin, who are richer than your little charity pupil,
+Sara Crewe, will be. Mr. Carrisford has been searching for her for
+nearly two years; he has found her at last, and he will keep her."
+
+After which he asked Miss Minchin to sit down while he explained matters
+to her fully, and went into such detail as was necessary to make it
+quite clear to her that Sara's future was an assured one, and that what
+had seemed to be lost was to be restored to her tenfold; also, that she
+had in Mr. Carrisford a guardian as well as a friend.
+
+Miss Minchin was not a clever woman, and in her excitement she was silly
+enough to make one desperate effort to regain what she could not help
+seeing she had lost through her own worldly folly.
+
+"He found her under my care," she protested. "I have done everything
+for her. But for me she would have starved in the streets."
+
+Here the Indian gentleman lost his temper.
+
+"As to starving in the streets," he said, "she might have starved more
+comfortably there than in your attic."
+
+"Captain Crewe left her in my charge," Miss Minchin argued. "She must
+return to it until she is of age. She can be a parlor-boarder again. She
+must finish her education. The law will interfere in my behalf."
+
+"Come, come, Miss Minchin," Mr. Carmichael interposed, "the law will do
+nothing of the sort. If Sara herself wishes to return to you, I dare say
+Mr. Carrisford might not refuse to allow it. But that rests with Sara."
+
+"Then," said Miss Minchin, "I appeal to Sara. I have not spoiled you,
+perhaps," she said awkwardly to the little girl; "but you know that your
+papa was pleased with your progress. And--ahem!--I have always been fond
+of you."
+
+Sara's green-gray eyes fixed themselves on her with the quiet, clear
+look Miss Minchin particularly disliked.
+
+"Have _you_, Miss Minchin?" she said; "I did not know that."
+
+Miss Minchin reddened and drew herself up.
+
+"You ought to have known it," said she; "but children, unfortunately,
+never know what is best for them. Amelia and I always said you were the
+cleverest child in the school. Will you not do your duty to your poor
+papa and come home with me?"
+
+Sara took a step toward her and stood still. She was thinking of the
+day when she had been told that she belonged to nobody, and was in
+danger of being turned into the street; she was thinking of the cold,
+hungry hours she had spent alone with Emily and Melchisedec in the
+attic. She looked Miss Minchin steadily in the face.
+
+"You know why I will not go home with you, Miss Minchin," she said; "you
+know quite well."
+
+A hot flush showed itself on Miss Minchin's hard, angry face.
+
+"You will never see your companions again," she began. "I will see that
+Ermengarde and Lottie are kept away--"
+
+Mr. Carmichael stopped her with polite firmness.
+
+"Excuse me," he said; "she will see any one she wishes to see. The
+parents of Miss Crewe's fellow-pupils are not likely to refuse her
+invitations to visit her at her guardian's house. Mr. Carrisford will
+attend to that."
+
+It must be confessed that even Miss Minchin flinched. This was worse
+than the eccentric bachelor uncle who might have a peppery temper and be
+easily offended at the treatment of his niece. A woman of sordid mind
+could easily believe that most people would not refuse to allow their
+children to remain friends with a little heiress of diamond-mines. And
+if Mr. Carrisford chose to tell certain of her patrons how unhappy Sara
+Crewe had been made, many unpleasant things might happen.
+
+"You have not undertaken an easy charge," she said to the Indian
+gentleman, as she turned to leave the room; "you will discover that very
+soon. The child is neither truthful nor grateful. I suppose"--to
+Sara--"that you feel now that you are a princess again."
+
+Sara looked down and flushed a little, because she thought her pet fancy
+might not be easy for strangers--even nice ones--to understand at first.
+
+"I--tried not to be anything else," she answered in a low voice--"even
+when I was coldest and hungriest--I _tried_ not to be."
+
+"Now it will not be necessary to try," said Miss Minchin, acidly, as Ram
+Dass salaamed her out of the room.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+She returned home and, going to her sitting-room, sent at once for Miss
+Amelia. She sat closeted with her all the rest of the afternoon, and it
+must be admitted that poor Miss Amelia passed through more than one bad
+quarter of an hour. She shed a good many tears, and mopped her eyes a
+good deal. One of her unfortunate remarks almost caused her sister to
+snap her head entirely off, but it resulted in an unusual manner.
+
+"I'm not as clever as you, sister," she said, "and I am always afraid to
+say things to you for fear of making you angry. Perhaps if I were not so
+timid it would be better for the school and for both of us. I must say
+I've often thought it would have been better if you had been less severe
+on Sara Crewe, and had seen that she was decently dressed and more
+comfortable. I know she was worked too hard for a child of her age, and
+I _know_ she was only half fed--"
+
+"How dare you say such a thing!" exclaimed Miss Minchin.
+
+"I don't know how I dare," Miss Amelia answered, with a kind of reckless
+courage; "but now I've begun I may as well finish, whatever happens to
+me. The child was a clever child and a good child--and she would have
+paid you for any kindness you had shown her. But you didn't show her
+any. The fact was, she was too clever for you, and you always disliked
+her for that reason. She used to see through us both--"
+
+"Amelia!" gasped her infuriated elder, looking as if she would box her
+ears and knock her cap off, as she had often done to Becky.
+
+But Miss Amelia's disappointment had made her hysterical enough not to
+care what occurred next.
+
+"She did! She did!" she cried. "She saw through us both. She saw that
+you were a hard-hearted, worldly woman, and that I was a weak fool, and
+that we were both of us vulgar and mean enough to grovel on our knees
+before her money, and behave ill to her because it was taken from
+her--though she behaved herself like a little princess even when she was
+a beggar. She did--she did--like a little princess!" and her hysterics
+got the better of the poor woman, and she began to laugh and cry both at
+once, and rock herself backward and forward in such a way as made Miss
+Minchin stare aghast.
+
+"And now you've lost her," she cried wildly; "and some other school will
+get her and her money; and if she were like any other child she'd tell
+how she's been treated, and all our pupils would be taken away and we
+should be ruined. And it serves us right; but it serves you right more
+than it does me, for you are a hard woman, Maria Minchin--you're a hard,
+selfish, worldly woman!"
+
+And she was in danger of making so much noise with her hysterical chokes
+and gurgles that her sister was obliged to go to her and apply salts and
+sal volatile to quiet her, instead of pouring forth her indignation at
+her audacity.
+
+And from that time forward, it may be mentioned, the elder Miss Minchin
+actually began to stand a little in awe of a sister who, while she
+looked so foolish, was evidently not quite so foolish as she looked, and
+might, consequently, break out and speak truths people did not want to
+hear.
+
+That evening, when the pupils were gathered together before the fire in
+the school-room, as was their custom before going to bed, Ermengarde
+came in with a letter in her hand and a queer expression on her round
+face. It was queer because, while it was an expression of delighted
+excitement, it was combined with such amazement as seemed to belong to
+a kind of shock just received.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" cried two or three voices at once.
+
+"Is it anything to do with the row that has been going on?" said
+Lavinia, eagerly. "There has been such a row in Miss Minchin's room,
+Miss Amelia has had something like hysterics and has had to go to bed."
+
+Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half stunned.
+
+"I have just had this letter from Sara," she said, holding it out to let
+them see what a long letter it was.
+
+"From Sara!" Every voice joined in that exclamation.
+
+"Where is she?" almost shrieked Jessie.
+
+"Next door," said Ermengarde, still slowly; "with the Indian gentleman."
+
+"Where? Where? Has she been sent away? Does Miss Minchin know? Was the
+row about that? Why did she write? Tell us! Tell us!"
+
+There was a perfect babel, and Lottie began to cry plaintively.
+
+Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half plunged out into
+what, at the moment, seemed the most important and self-explaining
+thing.
+
+"There _were_ diamond-mines," she said stoutly; "there _were_!"
+
+Open mouths and open eyes confronted her.
+
+"They were real," she hurried on. "It was all a mistake about them.
+Something happened for a time, and Mr. Carrisford thought they were
+ruined--"
+
+"Who is Mr. Carrisford?" shouted Jessie.
+
+"The Indian gentleman. And Captain Crewe thought so, too--and he died;
+and Mr. Carrisford had brain-fever and ran away, and _he_ almost died.
+And he did not know where Sara was. And it turned out that there were
+millions and millions of diamonds in the mines; and half of them belong
+to Sara; and they belonged to her when she was living in the attic with
+no one but Melchisedec for a friend, and the cook ordering her about.
+And Mr. Carrisford found her this afternoon, and he has got her in his
+home--and she will never come back--and she will be more a princess than
+she ever was--a hundred and fifty thousand times more. And I am going to
+see her to-morrow afternoon. There!"
+
+Even Miss Minchin herself could scarcely have controlled the uproar
+after this; and though she heard the noise, she did not try. She was not
+in the mood to face anything more than she was facing in her room, while
+Miss Amelia was weeping in bed. She knew that the news had penetrated
+the walls in some mysterious manner, and that every servant and every
+child would go to bed talking about it.
+
+So until almost midnight the entire seminary, realizing somehow that all
+rules were laid aside, crowded round Ermengarde in the school-room and
+heard read and re-read the letter containing a story which was quite as
+wonderful as any Sara herself had ever invented, and which had the
+amazing charm of having happened to Sara herself and the mystic Indian
+gentleman in the very next house.
+
+Becky, who had heard it also, managed to creep up-stairs earlier than
+usual. She wanted to get away from people and go and look at the little
+magic room once more. She did not know what would happen to it. It was
+not likely that it would be left to Miss Minchin. It would be taken
+away, and the attic would be bare and empty again. Glad as she was for
+Sara's sake, she went up the last flight of stairs with a lump in her
+throat and tears blurring her sight. There would be no fire to-night,
+and no rosy lamp; no supper, and no princess sitting in the glow
+reading or telling stories--no princess!
+
+She choked down a sob as she pushed the attic door open, and then she
+broke into a low cry.
+
+The lamp was flushing the room, the fire was blazing, the supper was
+waiting; and Ram Dass was standing smiling into her startled face.
+
+"Missee sahib remembered," he said. "She told the sahib all. She wished
+you to know the good fortune which has befallen her. Behold a letter on
+the tray. She has written. She did not wish that you should go to sleep
+unhappy. The sahib commands you to come to him to-morrow. You are to be
+the attendant of missee sahib. To-night I take these things back over
+the roof."
+
+And having said this with a beaming face, he made a little salaam and
+slipped through the skylight with an agile silentness of movement which
+showed Becky how easily he had done it before.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+"ANNE"
+
+
+Never had such joy reigned in the nursery of the Large Family. Never had
+they dreamed of such delights as resulted from an intimate acquaintance
+with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. The mere fact of her
+sufferings and adventures made her a priceless possession. Everybody
+wanted to be told over and over again the things which had happened to
+her. When one was sitting by a warm fire in a big, glowing room, it was
+quite delightful to hear how cold it could be in an attic. It must be
+admitted that the attic was rather delighted in, and that its coldness
+and bareness quite sank into insignificance when Melchisedec was
+remembered, and one heard about the sparrows and things one could see if
+one climbed on the table and stuck one's head and shoulders out of the
+skylight.
+
+Of course the thing loved best was the story of the banquet and the
+dream which was true. Sara told it for the first time the day after she
+had been found. Several members of the Large Family came to take tea
+with her, and as they sat or curled up on the hearth-rug she told the
+story in her own way, and the Indian gentleman listened and watched
+her. When she had finished she looked up at him and put her hand on his
+knee.
+
+"That is my part," she said. "Now won't you tell your part of it, Uncle
+Tom?" He had asked her to call him always "Uncle Tom." "I don't know
+your part yet, and it must be beautiful."
+
+So he told them how, when he sat alone, ill and dull and irritable, Ram
+Dass had tried to distract him by describing the passers by, and there
+was one child who passed oftener than any one else; he had begun to be
+interested in her--partly perhaps because he was thinking a great deal
+of a little girl, and partly because Ram Dass had been able to relate
+the incident of his visit to the attic in chase of the monkey. He had
+described its cheerless look, and the bearing of the child, who seemed
+as if she was not of the class of those who were treated as drudges
+and servants. Bit by bit, Ram Dass had made discoveries concerning the
+wretchedness of her life. He had found out how easy a matter it was to
+climb across the few yards of roof to the skylight, and this fact had
+been the beginning of all that followed.
+
+"Sahib," he had said one day, "I could cross the slates and make the
+child a fire when she is out on some errand. When she returned, wet and
+cold, to find it blazing, she would think a magician had done it."
+
+The idea had been so fanciful that Mr. Carrisford's sad face had lighted
+with a smile, and Ram Dass had been so filled with rapture that he had
+enlarged upon it and explained to his master how simple it would be to
+accomplish numbers of other things. He had shown a childlike pleasure
+and invention, and the preparations for the carrying out of the plan
+had filled many a day with interest which would otherwise have dragged
+wearily. On the night of the frustrated banquet Ram Dass had kept watch,
+all his packages being in readiness in the attic which was his own; and
+the person who was to help him had waited with him, as interested as
+himself in the odd adventure. Ram Dass had been lying flat upon the
+slates, looking in at the skylight, when the banquet had come to its
+disastrous conclusion; he had been sure of the profoundness of Sara's
+wearied sleep; and then, with a dark lantern, he had crept into the
+room, while his companion had remained outside and handed the things
+to him. When Sara had stirred ever so faintly, Ram Dass had closed
+the lantern-slide and lain flat upon the floor. These and many other
+exciting things the children found out by asking a thousand questions.
+
+"I am so glad," Sara said. "I am so _glad_ it was you who were my
+friend!"
+
+There never were such friends as these two became. Somehow, they seemed
+to suit each other in a wonderful way. The Indian gentleman had never
+had a companion he liked quite as much as he liked Sara. In a month's
+time he was, as Mr. Carmichael had prophesied he would be, a new man.
+He was always amused and interested, and he began to find an actual
+pleasure in the possession of the wealth he had imagined that he loathed
+the burden of. There were so many charming things to plan for Sara.
+There was a little joke between them that he was a magician, and it
+was one of his pleasures to invent things to surprise her. She found
+beautiful new flowers growing in her room, whimsical little gifts tucked
+under pillows, and once, as they sat together in the evening, they heard
+the scratch of a heavy paw on the door, and when Sara went to find out
+what it was, there stood a great dog--a splendid Russian boarhound--with
+a grand silver and gold collar bearing an inscription in raised letters.
+"I am Boris," it read; "I serve the Princess Sara."
+
+There was nothing the Indian gentleman loved more than the recollection
+of the little princess in rags and tatters. The afternoons in which the
+Large Family, or Ermengarde and Lottie, gathered to rejoice together
+were very delightful. But the hours when Sara and the Indian gentleman
+sat alone and read or talked had a special charm of their own. During
+their passing many interesting things occurred.
+
+[Illustration: Noticed that his companion ... sat gazing into the fire.]
+
+One evening, Mr. Carrisford, looking up from his book, noticed that his
+companion had not stirred for some time, but sat gazing into the fire.
+
+"What are you 'supposing,' Sara?" he asked.
+
+Sara looked up, with a bright color on her cheek.
+
+"I _was_ supposing," she said; "I was remembering that hungry day, and a
+child I saw."
+
+"But there were a great many hungry days," said the Indian gentleman,
+with rather a sad tone in his voice. "Which hungry day was it?"
+
+"I forgot you didn't know," said Sara. "It was the day the dream came
+true."
+
+Then she told him the story of the bun-shop, and the fourpence she
+picked up out of the sloppy mud, and the child who was hungrier than
+herself. She told it quite simply, and in as few words as possible; but
+somehow the Indian gentleman found it necessary to shade his eyes with
+his hand and look down at the carpet.
+
+"And I was supposing a kind of plan," she said, when she had finished.
+"I was thinking I should like to do something."
+
+"What was it?" said Mr. Carrisford, in a low tone. "You may do anything
+you like to do, princess."
+
+"I was wondering," rather hesitated Sara--"you know, you say I have so
+much money--I was wondering if I could go to 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. Could I do that?"
+
+"You shall do it to-morrow morning," said the Indian gentleman.
+
+"Thank you," said Sara. "You see, I know what it is to be hungry, and it
+is very hard when one cannot even _pretend_ it away."
+
+"Yes, yes, my dear," said the Indian gentleman. "Yes, yes, it must be.
+Try to forget it. Come and sit on this footstool near my knee, and only
+remember you are a princess."
+
+"Yes," said Sara, smiling; "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) drew her small
+dark head down upon his knee and stroked her hair.
+
+The next morning, Miss Minchin, in looking out of her window, saw the
+thing she perhaps least enjoyed seeing. The Indian gentleman's carriage,
+with its tall horses, drew up before the door of the next house, and its
+owner and a little figure, warm with soft, rich furs, descended the
+steps to get into it. The little figure was a familiar one, and reminded
+Miss Minchin of days in the past. It was followed by another as
+familiar--the sight of which she found very irritating. It was Becky,
+who, in the character of delighted attendant, always accompanied her
+young mistress to her carriage, carrying wraps and belongings. Already
+Becky had a pink, round face.
+
+A little later the carriage drew up before the door of the baker's shop,
+and its occupants 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.
+
+"I'm sure that I remember you, miss," she said. "And yet--"
+
+"Yes," said Sara; "once you gave me six buns for fourpence, and--"
+
+"And you gave five of 'em to a beggar child," the woman broke in on
+her. "I've always remembered it. I couldn't make it out at first." She
+turned round to the Indian gentleman and spoke her next words to him. "I
+beg your 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,"--to Sara,--"but you look rosier and--well, better than
+you did that--that--"
+
+"I am better, thank you," said Sara. "And--I am much happier--and I have
+come to ask you to do something for me."
+
+"Me, miss!" exclaimed the bun-woman, smiling cheerfully. "Why, bless
+you! yes, miss. What can I do?"
+
+And then Sara, leaning on the counter, made her little proposal
+concerning the dreadful days and the hungry waifs and the hot buns.
+
+The woman watched her, and listened with an astonished face.
+
+"Why, bless me!" she said again when she had heard it all; "it'll be a
+pleasure to me to do it. I am a working-woman myself and cannot 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 away many
+a bit of bread since that wet afternoon, just along o' thinking of
+you--an' how wet an' cold you was, an' how hungry you looked; an' yet
+you gave away your hot buns as if you was a princess."
+
+The Indian gentleman smiled involuntarily at this, and Sara smiled a
+little, too, remembering what she had said to herself when she put the
+buns down on the ravenous child's ragged lap.
+
+"She looked so hungry," she said. "She was even hungrier than I was."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, have you seen her since then?" exclaimed Sara. "Do you know where
+she is?"
+
+"Yes, I do," answered the woman, smiling more good-naturedly than ever.
+"Why, she's in that there back room, miss, an' has been for a month; an'
+a decent, well-meanin' girl she's goin' to turn out, an' such a help to
+me in the shop an' in the kitchen as you'd scarce believe, knowin' how
+she's lived."
+
+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. She knew Sara in an instant, and stood and
+looked at her as if she could never look enough.
+
+"You see," said the woman, "I told her to come when she was hungry, and
+when she'd come I'd give her odd jobs to do; an' I found she was
+willing, and somehow I got to like her; and the end of it was, I've
+given her a place an' a home, and she helps me, an' behaves well, an' is
+as thankful as a girl can be. Her name's Anne. She has no other."
+
+The children stood and looked at each other for a few minutes; and then
+Sara took her hand out of her muff and held it out across the counter,
+and Anne took it, and they looked straight into each other's eyes.
+
+"I am so glad," Sara said. "And I have just thought of something.
+Perhaps Mrs. Brown will let you be the one to 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."
+
+"Yes, miss," said the girl.
+
+And, somehow, Sara felt as if she understood her, though she said so
+little, and only stood still and looked and looked after her as she went
+out of the shop with the Indian gentleman, and they got into the
+carriage and drove away.
+
+
+
+
+Scribner Illustrated Classics for Younger Readers
+
+
+Stories which have been loved by young readers for several generations
+are included in the Scribner Illustrated Classics. They are all books of
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+The volume you want will be available in one of the two groups.
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+      _By Robert Louis Stevenson_
+  DAVID BALFOUR
+  THE BLACK ARROW
+  KIDNAPPED
+  TREASURE ISLAND
+  A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
+
+      _By Eugene Field_
+  POEMS OF CHILDHOOD
+
+      _By Jules Verne_
+  MICHAEL STROGOFF
+  THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND
+  TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA
+
+      _By Frances Hodgson Burnett_
+  LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY
+  A LITTLE PRINCESS
+
+      _By J. M. Barrie_
+  PETER PAN AND WENDY
+
+          &
+
+  HANS BRINKER
+    _By_ MARY MAPES DODGE
+
+  THE DEERSLAYER
+    _By_ J. FENIMORE COOPER
+
+  QUENTIN DURWARD
+    _By_ SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart.
+
+  SMOKY
+    _By_ WILL JAMES
+
+  LONE COWBOY
+    _By_ WILL JAMES
+
+  DRUMS
+    _By_ JAMES BOYD
+
+  THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED
+    _By_ JAMES BALDWIN
+
+  THE CHILDREN'S BIBLE
+    _By_ HENRY A. SHERMAN _and_ CHARLES FOSTER KENT
+
+  JINGLEBOB
+    _By_ PHILIP ASHTON ROLLINS
+
+  THE STORY OF ROLAND
+    _By_ JAMES BALDWIN
+
+  THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME
+    _By_ JOHN FOX, JR.
+
+  THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS
+    _By_ JANE PORTER
+
+  WESTWARD HO!
+    _By_ CHARLES KINGSLEY
+
+  GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES
+
+  THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS
+    _By_ J. FENIMORE COOPER
+
+  THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR
+    _By_ SIDNEY LANIER
+
+  THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
+
+  THE CHILDREN OF DICKENS
+    _By_ SAMUEL MCCHORD CROTHERS
+
+  THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS
+    _By_ KENNETH GRAHAME
+
+  THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM AND OTHER FANCIFUL TALES
+    _By_ FRANK R. STOCKTON
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's notes: Spaces have been removed from contractions like
+"she 's" and "you 'd". Original spelling and hyphenation have been
+preserved. The illustrations have been moved slightly for reader
+convenience.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Little Princess, Being the whole story of Sara Crewe now told for the first time, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  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: A Little Princess
+       Being the whole story of Sara Crewe now told for the first time
+
+Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
+Illustrator: Ethel Franklin Betts
+
+Release Date: September 7, 2011 [EBook #37332]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE PRINCESS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, eagkw and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcover">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="551" height="600" alt="Cover" title="Cover" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a>
+<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="400" height="531" alt="&ldquo;I am not&mdash;I am not dreaming!&rdquo;" title="Frontispiece" />
+<br /><span class="caption"><a href="#Page_211">&ldquo;I am <em>not</em>&mdash;I am <em>not</em> dreaming!&rdquo;</a></span>
+</div>
+
+
+<h1>A<br />
+
+LITTLE PRINCESS</h1>
+
+<p class="tp1">BEING THE WHOLE STORY OF SARA CREWE<br />
+NOW TOLD FOR THE FIRST TIME</p>
+
+<p class="tp1">BY</p>
+
+<p class="author">FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT</p>
+
+<p class="tp1">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLORS BY<br />
+<span class="f11">ETHEL FRANKLIN BETTS</span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="tp1"><big>CHARLES SCRIBNER&rsquo;S SONS</big><br />
+<big>NEW YORK</big> &nbsp;&nbsp; . &nbsp;&nbsp; . &nbsp;&nbsp; . &nbsp;&nbsp; . &nbsp;&nbsp; . &nbsp;&nbsp; 1937
+</p>
+
+<hr class="l2"/>
+
+<p class="tp2"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1888 and 1905, by</span><br />
+CHARLES SCRIBNER&rsquo;S SONS</p>
+<hr class="l3"/>
+<p class="tp2"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1916, by</span><br />
+FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT</p>
+<hr class="l3"/>
+<p class="tp2">Printed in the United States of America</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="rights">All rights reserved. No part of this book<br />
+may be reproduced in any form without<br />
+the permission of Charles Scribner&rsquo;s Sons</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/logo.png" width="75" height="86" alt="logo" title="logo" />
+</div>
+<hr class="l2"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="wholestory">
+<h2>THE WHOLE OF THE STORY</h2>
+
+
+<p>I do not know whether many people realize how much
+more than is ever written there really is in a story&mdash;how
+many parts of it are never told&mdash;how much more really
+happened than there is in the book one holds in one&rsquo;s hand
+and pores over. Stories are something like letters. When
+a letter is written, how often one remembers things omitted
+and says, &ldquo;Ah, why did I not tell them that?&rdquo; In writing
+a book one relates all that one remembers at the time, and if
+one told all that really happened perhaps the book would
+never end. Between the lines of every story there is another
+story, and that is one that is never heard and can only
+be guessed at by the people who are good at guessing. The
+person who writes the story may never know all of it, but
+sometimes he does and wishes he had the chance to begin
+again.</p>
+
+<p>When I wrote the story of &ldquo;Sara Crewe&rdquo; I guessed that
+a great deal more had happened at Miss Minchin&rsquo;s than I
+had had time to find out just then. I knew, of course, that
+there must have been chapters full of things going on all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span>
+the time; and when I began to make a play out of the book
+and called it &ldquo;A Little Princess,&rdquo; I discovered three acts
+full of things. What interested me most was that I found
+that there had been girls at the school whose names I had
+not even known before. There was a little girl whose name
+was Lottie, who was an amusing little person; there was a
+hungry scullery-maid who was Sara&rsquo;s adoring friend; Ermengarde
+was much more entertaining than she had
+seemed at first; things happened in the garret which had
+never been hinted at in the book; and a certain gentleman
+whose name was Melchisedec was an intimate friend of
+Sara&rsquo;s who should never have been left out of the story if
+he had only walked into it in time. He and Becky and
+Lottie lived at Miss Minchin&rsquo;s, and I cannot understand
+why they did not mention themselves to me at first. They
+were as real as Sara, and it was careless of them not to come
+out of the story shadowland and say, &ldquo;Here I am&mdash;tell
+about me.&rdquo; But they did not&mdash;which was their fault and
+not mine. People who live in the story one is writing ought
+to come forward at the beginning and tap the writing person
+on the shoulder and say, &ldquo;Hallo, what about me?&rdquo; If
+they don&rsquo;t, no one can be blamed but themselves and their
+slouching, idle ways.</p>
+
+<p>After the play of &ldquo;A Little Princess&rdquo; was produced in
+New York, and so many children went to see it and liked
+Becky and Lottie and Melchisedec, my publishers asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span>
+me if I could not write Sara&rsquo;s story over again and put
+into it all the things and people who had been left out before,
+and so I have done it; and when I began I found there
+were actually pages and pages of things which had happened
+that had never been put even into the play, so in this
+new &ldquo;Little Princess&rdquo; I have put all I have been able to
+discover.</p>
+
+<p class="right">FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="l2"/>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td class="col1"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td class="col2">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">I</td><td class="col2">SARA</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">II</td><td class="col2">A FRENCH LESSON</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">III</td><td class="col2">ERMENGARDE</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">IV</td><td class="col2">LOTTIE</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">V</td><td class="col2">BECKY</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">VI</td><td class="col2">THE DIAMOND-MINES</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">VII</td><td class="col2">THE DIAMOND-MINES AGAIN</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">VIII</td><td class="col2">IN THE ATTIC</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">IX</td><td class="col2">MELCHISEDEC</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">X</td><td class="col2">THE INDIAN GENTLEMAN</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XI</td><td class="col2">RAM DASS</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XII</td><td class="col2">THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XIII</td><td class="col2">ONE OF THE POPULACE</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XIV</td><td class="col2">WHAT MELCHISEDEC HEARD AND SAW</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XV</td><td class="col2">THE MAGIC</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XVI</td><td class="col2">THE VISITOR</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XVII</td><td class="col2">&ldquo;IT IS THE CHILD!&rdquo;</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XVIII</td><td class="col2">&ldquo;I TRIED NOT TO BE&rdquo;</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col1">XIX</td><td class="col2">&ldquo;ANNE&rdquo;</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="l2"/>
+
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td class="col4">&ldquo;I am <em>not</em>&mdash;I am <em>not</em> dreaming!&rdquo;</td><td align="right"><i><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col4">She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of eyes
+watching her</td><td class="col3"><a href="#illus028">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col4">More than once she had been known to have a tea-party</td><td class="col3"><a href="#illus052">38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col4">The children crowded clamoring around her</td><td class="col3"><a href="#illus092">76</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col4">She seldom cried. She did not cry now</td><td class="col3"><a href="#illus112">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col4">The sparrows twittered and hopped about quite without
+fear</td><td class="col3"><a href="#illus132">112</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col4">The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner</td><td class="col3"><a href="#illus190">168</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col4">She sat down and held him on her knee</td><td class="col3"><a href="#illus254">230</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="col4">Noticed that his companion &hellip; sat gazing into the fire</td><td class="col3"><a href="#illus286">260</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h1><small>A LITTLE PRINCESS</small></h1>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER I<br />
+
+<small>SARA</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Once</span> on a dark winter&rsquo;s day, when the yellow fog
+hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London
+that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows
+blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little
+girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather
+slowly through the big thoroughfares.</p>
+
+<p>She sat with her feet tucked under her, and leaned
+against her father, who held her in his arm, as she stared
+out of the window at the passing people with a queer old-fashioned
+thoughtfulness in her big eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She was such a little girl that one did not expect to see
+such a look on her small face. It would have been an old
+look for a child of twelve, and Sara Crewe was only seven.
+The fact was, however, that she was always dreaming and
+thinking odd things and could not herself remember any
+time when she had not been thinking things about grown-up
+people and the world they belonged to. She felt as if
+she had lived a long, long time.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment she was remembering the voyage she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
+had just made from Bombay with her father, Captain
+Crewe. She was thinking of the big ship, of the Lascars
+passing silently to and fro on it, of the children playing
+about on the hot deck, and of some young officers&rsquo; wives
+who used to try to make her talk to them and laugh at the
+things she said.</p>
+
+<p>Principally, she was thinking of what a queer thing it
+was that at one time one was in India in the blazing sun,
+and then in the middle of the ocean, and then driving in a
+strange vehicle through strange streets where the day was
+as dark as the night. She found this so puzzling that she
+moved closer to her father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; she said in a low, mysterious little voice which
+was almost a whisper, &ldquo;papa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, darling?&rdquo; Captain Crewe answered, holding
+her closer and looking down into her face. &ldquo;What is
+Sara thinking of?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is this the place?&rdquo; Sara whispered, cuddling still
+closer to him. &ldquo;Is it, papa?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, little Sara, it is. We have reached it at last.&rdquo;
+And though she was only seven years old, she knew that
+he felt sad when he said it.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to her many years since he had begun to prepare
+her mind for &ldquo;the place,&rdquo; as she always called it. Her
+mother had died when she was born, so she had never known
+or missed her. Her young, handsome, rich, petting father
+seemed to be the only relation she had in the world. They
+had always played together and been fond of each other.
+She only knew he was rich because she had heard people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
+say so when they thought she was not listening, and she had
+also heard them say that when she grew up she would be
+rich, too. She did not know all that being rich meant. She
+had always lived in a beautiful bungalow, and had been
+used to seeing many servants who made salaams to her and
+called her &ldquo;Missee Sahib,&rdquo; and gave her her own way in
+everything. She had had toys and pets and an ayah who
+worshipped her, and she had gradually learned that people
+who were rich had these things. That, however, was all she
+knew about it.</p>
+
+<p>During her short life only one thing had troubled her,
+and that thing was &ldquo;the place&rdquo; she was to be taken to some
+day. The climate of India was very bad for children, and
+as soon as possible they were sent away from it&mdash;generally
+to England and to school. She had seen other children go
+away, and had heard their fathers and mothers talk about
+the letters they received from them. She had known that
+she would be obliged to go also, and though sometimes her
+father&rsquo;s stories of the voyage and the new country had attracted
+her, she had been troubled by the thought that he
+could not stay with her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t you go to that place with me, papa?&rdquo; she
+had asked when she was five years old. &ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t you go
+to school, too? I would help you with your lessons.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you will not have to stay for a very long time, little
+Sara,&rdquo; he had always said. &ldquo;You will go to a nice house
+where there will be a lot of little girls, and you will play
+together, and I will send you plenty of books, and you
+will grow so fast that it will seem scarcely a year before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
+you are big enough and clever enough to come back and
+take care of papa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had liked to think of that. To keep the house
+for her father; to ride with him, and sit at the head
+of his table when he had dinner-parties; to talk to him
+and read his books&mdash;that would be what she would like
+most in the world, and if one must go away to &ldquo;the place&rdquo;
+in England to attain it, she must make up her mind to go.
+She did not care very much for other little girls, but if she
+had plenty of books she could console herself. She liked
+books more than anything else, and was, in fact, always inventing
+stories of beautiful things and telling them to herself.
+Sometimes she had told them to her father, and he
+had liked them as much as she did.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, papa,&rdquo; she said softly, &ldquo;if we are here I suppose
+we must be resigned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He laughed at her old-fashioned speech and kissed her.
+He was really not at all resigned himself, though he knew
+he must keep that a secret. His quaint little Sara had been
+a great companion to him, and he felt he should be a lonely
+fellow when, on his return to India, he went into his bungalow
+knowing he need not expect to see the small figure in
+its white frock come forward to meet him. So he held
+her very closely in his arm as the cab rolled into the big,
+dull square in which stood the house which was their destination.</p>
+
+<p>It was a big, dull, brick house, exactly like all the others
+in its row, but that on the front door there shone a brass
+plate on which was engraved in black letters:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap">Miss Minchin,</span><br />
+Select Seminary for Young Ladies.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here we are, Sara,&rdquo; said Captain Crewe, making his
+voice sound as cheerful as possible. Then he lifted her out
+of the cab and they mounted the steps and rang the bell.
+Sara often thought afterward that the house was somehow
+exactly like Miss Minchin. It was respectable and well
+furnished, but everything in it was ugly; and the very arm-chairs
+seemed to have hard bones in them. In the hall
+everything was hard and polished&mdash;even the red cheeks of
+the moon face on the tall clock in the corner had a severe
+varnished look. The drawing-room into which they were
+ushered was covered by a carpet with a square pattern upon
+it, the chairs were square, and a heavy marble timepiece
+stood upon the heavy marble mantel.</p>
+
+<p>As she sat down in one of the stiff mahogany chairs,
+Sara cast one of her quick looks about her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like it, papa,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But then I dare say
+soldiers&mdash;even brave ones&mdash;don&rsquo;t really <em>like</em> going into
+battle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Crewe laughed outright at this. He was young
+and full of fun, and he never tired of hearing Sara&rsquo;s queer
+speeches.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, little Sara,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What shall I do when I
+have no one to say solemn things to me? No one else is
+quite as solemn as you are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But why do solemn things make you laugh so?&rdquo; inquired
+Sara.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because you are such fun when you say them,&rdquo; he answered,
+laughing still more. And then suddenly he swept
+her into his arms and kissed her very hard, stopping laughing
+all at once and looking almost as if tears had come into
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>It was just then that Miss Minchin entered the room. She
+was very like her house, Sara felt: tall and dull, and respectable
+and ugly. She had large, cold, fishy eyes, and a large,
+cold, fishy smile. It spread itself into a very large smile
+when she saw Sara and Captain Crewe. She had heard a
+great many desirable things of the young soldier from the
+lady who had recommended her school to him. Among
+other things, she had heard that he was a rich father who
+was willing to spend a great deal of money on his little
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will be a great privilege to have charge of such a
+beautiful and promising child, Captain Crewe,&rdquo; she said,
+taking Sara&rsquo;s hand and stroking it. &ldquo;Lady Meredith has
+told me of her unusual cleverness. A clever child is a great
+treasure in an establishment like mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stood quietly, with her eyes fixed upon Miss Minchin&rsquo;s
+face. She was thinking something odd, as usual.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why does she say I am a beautiful child,&rdquo; she was
+thinking. &ldquo;I am not beautiful at all. Colonel Grange&rsquo;s
+little girl, Isobel, is beautiful. She has dimples and rose-colored
+cheeks, and long hair the color of gold. I have
+short black hair and green eyes; besides which, I am a thin
+child and not fair in the least. I am one of the ugliest children
+I ever saw. She is beginning by telling a story.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She was mistaken, however, in thinking she was an ugly
+child. She was not in the least like Isobel Grange, who had
+been the beauty of the regiment, but she had an odd charm
+of her own. She was a slim, supple creature, rather tall for
+her age, and had an intense, attractive little face. Her hair
+was heavy and quite black and only curled at the tips; her
+eyes were greenish gray, it is true, but they were big, wonderful
+eyes with long, black lashes, and though she herself
+did not like the color of them, many other people did. Still
+she was very firm in her belief that she was an ugly little
+girl, and she was not at all elated by Miss Minchin&rsquo;s flattery.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should be telling a story if I said she was beautiful,&rdquo;
+she thought; &ldquo;and I should know I was telling a story. I
+believe I am as ugly as she is&mdash;in my way. What did she
+say that for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After she had known Miss Minchin longer she learned
+why she had said it. She discovered that she said the same
+thing to each papa and mamma who brought a child to her
+school.</p>
+
+<p>Sara stood near her father and listened while he and Miss
+Minchin talked. She had been brought to the seminary
+because Lady Meredith&rsquo;s two little girls had been educated
+there, and Captain Crewe had a great respect for
+Lady Meredith&rsquo;s experience. Sara was to be what was
+known as &ldquo;a parlor-boarder,&rdquo; and she was to enjoy
+even greater privileges than parlor-boarders usually did.
+She was to have a pretty bedroom and sitting-room of
+her own; she was to have a pony and a carriage, and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+maid to take the place of the ayah who had been her nurse
+in India.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not in the least anxious about her education,&rdquo;
+Captain Crewe said, with his gay laugh, as he held Sara&rsquo;s
+hand and patted it. &ldquo;The difficulty will be to keep her
+from learning too fast and too much. She is always sitting
+with her little nose burrowing into books. She doesn&rsquo;t
+read them, Miss Minchin; she gobbles them up as if she
+were a little wolf instead of a little girl. She is always
+starving for new books to gobble, and she wants grown-up
+books&mdash;great, big, fat ones&mdash;French and German as well
+as English&mdash;history and biography and poets, and all sorts
+of things. Drag her away from her books when she reads
+too much. Make her ride her pony in the Row or go out
+and buy a new doll. She ought to play more with dolls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;You see, if I went out and bought
+a new doll every few days I should have more than I could
+be fond of. Dolls ought to be intimate friends. Emily is
+going to be my intimate friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Crewe looked at Miss Minchin and Miss Minchin
+looked at Captain Crewe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is Emily?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell her, Sara,&rdquo; Captain Crewe said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Sara&rsquo;s green-gray eyes looked very solemn and quite soft
+as she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is a doll I haven&rsquo;t got yet,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;She is a doll
+papa is going to buy for me. We are going out together to
+find her. I have called her Emily. She is going to be my
+friend when papa is gone. I want her to talk to about
+him.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin&rsquo;s large, fishy smile became very flattering
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What an original child!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;What a darling
+little creature!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Captain Crewe, drawing Sara close. &ldquo;She
+is a darling little creature. Take great care of her for me,
+Miss Minchin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stayed with her father at his hotel for several days;
+in fact, she remained with him until he sailed away again to
+India. They went out and visited many big shops together,
+and bought a great many things. They bought,
+indeed, a great many more things than Sara needed; but
+Captain Crewe was a rash, innocent young man and wanted
+his little girl to have everything she admired and everything
+he admired himself, so between them they collected
+a wardrobe much too grand for a child of seven. There
+were velvet dresses trimmed with costly furs, and lace
+dresses, and embroidered ones, and hats with great, soft ostrich
+feathers, and ermine coats and muffs, and boxes of
+tiny gloves and handkerchiefs and silk stockings in such
+abundant supplies that the polite young women behind the
+counters whispered to each other that the odd little girl
+with the big, solemn eyes must be at least some foreign
+princess&mdash;perhaps the little daughter of an Indian rajah.</p>
+
+<p>And at last they found Emily, but they went to a number
+of toy-shops and looked at a great many dolls before
+they finally discovered her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want her to look as if she wasn&rsquo;t a doll really,&rdquo; Sara
+said. &ldquo;I want her to look as if she <em>listens</em> when I talk to
+her. The trouble with dolls, papa&rdquo;&mdash;and she put her head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+on one side and reflected as she said it&mdash;&ldquo;the trouble with
+dolls is that they never seem to <em>hear</em>.&rdquo; So they looked at
+big ones and little ones&mdash;at dolls with black eyes and dolls
+with blue&mdash;at dolls with brown curls and dolls with golden
+braids, dolls dressed and dolls undressed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; Sara said when they were examining one
+who had no clothes. &ldquo;If, when I find her, she has no frocks,
+we can take her to a dressmaker and have her things made
+to fit. They will fit better if they are tried on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After a number of disappointments they decided to walk
+and look in at the shop windows and let the cab follow
+them. They had passed two or three places without even
+going in, when, as they were approaching a shop which was
+really not a very large one, Sara suddenly started and
+clutched her father&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, papa!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;There is Emily!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A flush had risen to her face and there was an expression
+in her green-gray eyes as if she had just recognized some
+one she was intimate with and fond of.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is actually waiting for us!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Let us go
+in to her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; said Captain Crewe; &ldquo;I feel as if we ought
+to have some one to introduce us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must introduce me and I will introduce you,&rdquo; said
+Sara. &ldquo;But I knew her the minute I saw her&mdash;so perhaps
+she knew me, too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps she had known her. She had certainly a very
+intelligent expression in her eyes when Sara took her in her
+arms. She was a large doll, but not too large to carry about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+easily; she had naturally curling golden-brown hair, which
+hung like a mantle about her, and her eyes were a deep,
+clear, gray blue, with soft, thick eyelashes which were real
+eyelashes and not mere painted lines.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said Sara, looking into her face as she held
+her on her knee&mdash;&ldquo;of course, papa, this is Emily.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Emily was bought and actually taken to a children&rsquo;s
+outfitter&rsquo;s shop, and measured for a wardrobe as grand as
+Sara&rsquo;s own. She had lace frocks, too, and velvet and muslin
+ones, and hats and coats and beautiful lace-trimmed
+underclothes, and gloves and handkerchiefs and furs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like her always to look as if she was a child
+with a good mother,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m her mother, though
+I am going to make a companion of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Crewe would really have enjoyed the shopping
+tremendously, but that a sad thought kept tugging at his
+heart. This all meant that he was going to be separated
+from his beloved, quaint little comrade.</p>
+
+<p>He got out of his bed in the middle of that night and
+went and stood looking down at Sara, who lay asleep with
+Emily in her arms. Her black hair was spread out on the
+pillow and Emily&rsquo;s golden-brown hair mingled with it, both
+of them had lace-ruffled night-gowns, and both had long
+eyelashes which lay and curled up on their cheeks. Emily
+looked so like a real child that Captain Crewe felt glad she
+was there. He drew a big sigh and pulled his mustache
+with a boyish expression.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heigh-ho, little Sara!&rdquo; he said to himself. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+believe you know how much your daddy will miss you.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The next day he took her to Miss Minchin&rsquo;s and left her
+there. He was to sail away the next morning. He explained
+to Miss Minchin that his solicitors, Messrs. Barrow
+&amp; Skipworth, had charge of his affairs in England and
+would give her any advice she wanted, and that they would
+pay the bills she sent in for Sara&rsquo;s expenses. He would
+write to Sara twice a week, and she was to be given every
+pleasure she asked for.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is a sensible little thing, and she never wants anything
+it isn&rsquo;t safe to give her,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Then he went with Sara into her little sitting-room and
+they bade each other good-by. Sara sat on his knee and
+held the lapels of his coat in her small hands, and looked
+long and hard at his face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you learning me by heart, little Sara,&rdquo; he said,
+stroking her hair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;I know you by heart. You are
+inside my heart.&rdquo; And they put their arms round each
+other and kissed as if they would never let each other go.</p>
+
+<p>When the cab drove away from the door, Sara was sitting
+on the floor of her sitting-room, with her hands under her
+chin and her eyes following it until it had turned the corner
+of the square. Emily was sitting by her, and she looked
+after it, too. When Miss Minchin sent her sister, Miss
+Amelia, to see what the child was doing, she found she
+could not open the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have locked it,&rdquo; said a queer, polite little voice from
+inside. &ldquo;I want to be quite by myself, if you please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Amelia was fat and dumpy, and stood very much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+in awe of her sister. She was really the better-natured person
+of the two, but she never disobeyed Miss Minchin. She
+went down-stairs again, looking almost alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never saw such a funny, old-fashioned child, sister,&rdquo;
+she said. &ldquo;She has locked herself in, and she is not making
+the least particle of noise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is much better than if she kicked and screamed, as
+some of them do,&rdquo; Miss Minchin answered. &ldquo;I expected
+that a child as much spoiled as she is would set the whole
+house in an uproar. If ever a child was given her own way
+in everything, she is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been opening her trunks and putting her things
+away,&rdquo; said Miss Amelia. &ldquo;I never saw anything like
+them&mdash;sable and ermine on her coats, and real Valenciennes
+lace on her underclothing. You have seen some of her
+clothes. What <em>do</em> you think of them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think they are perfectly ridiculous,&rdquo; replied Miss
+Minchin, sharply; &ldquo;but they will look very well at the head
+of the line when we take the school-children to church on
+Sunday. She has been provided for as if she were a little
+princess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And up-stairs in the locked room Sara and Emily sat
+on the floor and stared at the corner round which the cab
+had disappeared, while Captain Crewe looked backward,
+waving and kissing his hand as if he could not bear to stop.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER II<br />
+
+<small>A FRENCH LESSON</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">When</span> Sara entered the school-room the next
+morning everybody looked at her with wide,
+interested eyes. By that time every pupil&mdash;from
+Lavinia Herbert, who was nearly thirteen and felt
+quite grown up, to Lottie Legh, who was only just four
+and the baby of the school&mdash;had heard a great deal about
+her. They knew very certainly that she was Miss Minchin&rsquo;s
+show pupil and was considered a credit to the establishment.
+One or two of them had even caught a glimpse
+of her French maid, Mariette, who had arrived the evening
+before. Lavinia had managed to pass Sara&rsquo;s room when
+the door was open, and had seen Mariette opening a box
+which had arrived late from some shop.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was full of petticoats with lace frills on them&mdash;frills
+and frills,&rdquo; she whispered to her friend Jessie as she bent
+over her geography. &ldquo;I saw her shaking them out. I
+heard Miss Minchin say to Miss Amelia that her clothes
+were so grand that they were ridiculous for a child. My
+mamma says that children should be dressed simply. She
+has got one of those petticoats on now. I saw it when she
+sat down.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She has silk stockings on!&rdquo; whispered Jessie, bending
+over her geography also. &ldquo;And what little feet! I never
+saw such little feet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; sniffed Lavinia, spitefully, &ldquo;that is the way her
+slippers are made. My mamma says that even big feet can
+be made to look small if you have a clever shoemaker. I
+don&rsquo;t think she is pretty at all. Her eyes are such a queer
+color.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She isn&rsquo;t pretty as other pretty people are,&rdquo; said Jessie,
+stealing a glance across the room; &ldquo;but she makes you want
+to look at her again. She has tremendously long eyelashes,
+but her eyes are almost green.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="illus028" id="illus028"></a>
+<img src="images/illus028.jpg" width="400" height="542" alt="She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of eyes watching her." title="" />
+<br /><span class="caption">She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of eyes watching her.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Sara was sitting quietly in her seat, waiting to be told
+what to do. She had been placed near Miss Minchin&rsquo;s
+desk. She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of
+eyes watching her. She was interested and looked back
+quietly at the children who looked at her. She wondered
+what they were thinking of, and if they liked Miss Minchin,
+and if they cared for their lessons, and if any of them had
+a papa at all like her own. She had had a long talk with
+Emily about her papa that morning.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is on the sea now, Emily,&rdquo; she had said. &ldquo;We
+must be very great friends to each other and tell each other
+things. Emily, look at me. You have the nicest eyes I
+ever saw,&mdash;but I wish you could speak.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was a child full of imaginings and whimsical
+thoughts, and one of her fancies was that there would be a
+great deal of comfort in even pretending that Emily was
+alive and really heard and understood. After Mariette had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+dressed her in her dark-blue school-room frock and tied her
+hair with a dark-blue ribbon, she went to Emily, who sat
+in a chair of her own, and gave her a book.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can read that while I am down-stairs,&rdquo; she said;
+and, seeing Mariette looking at her curiously, she spoke to
+her with a serious little face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What I believe about dolls,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;is that they can
+do things they will not let us know about. Perhaps, really,
+Emily can read and talk and walk, but she will only do it
+when people are out of the room. That is her secret. You
+see, if people knew that dolls could do things, they would
+make them work. So, perhaps, they have promised each
+other to keep it a secret. If you stay in the room, Emily
+will just sit there and stare; but if you go out, she will begin
+to read, perhaps, or go and look out of the window. Then
+if she heard either of us coming, she would just run back
+and jump into her chair and pretend she had been there all
+the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Comme elle est drôle!&rdquo;</i> Mariette said to herself, and when
+she went down-stairs she told the head housemaid about it.
+But she had already begun to like this odd little girl who
+had such an intelligent small face and such perfect manners.
+She had taken care of children before who were not
+so polite. Sara was a very fine little person, and had a gentle,
+appreciative way of saying, &ldquo;If you please, Mariette,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Thank you, Mariette,&rdquo; which was very charming. Mariette
+told the head housemaid that she thanked her as if she
+was thanking a lady.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Elle a l&rsquo;air d&rsquo;une princesse, cette petite,</i>&rdquo; she said. Indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+she was very much pleased with her new little mistress
+and liked her place greatly.</p>
+
+<p>After Sara had sat in her seat in the school-room for a
+few minutes, being looked at by the pupils, Miss Minchin
+rapped in a dignified manner upon her desk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Young ladies,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I wish to introduce you to
+your new companion.&rdquo; All the little girls rose in their
+places, and Sara rose also. &ldquo;I shall expect you all to be
+very agreeable to Miss Crewe; she has just come to us from
+a great distance&mdash;in fact, from India. As soon as lessons
+are over you must make each other&rsquo;s acquaintance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The pupils bowed ceremoniously, and Sara made a little
+courtesy, and then they sat down and looked at each other
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin in her school-room manner,
+&ldquo;come here to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had taken a book from the desk and was turning over
+its leaves. Sara went to her politely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As your papa has engaged a French maid for you,&rdquo; she
+began, &ldquo;I conclude that he wishes you to make a special
+study of the French language.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara felt a little awkward.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think he engaged her,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;because he&mdash;he
+thought I would like her, Miss Minchin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin, with a slightly sour
+smile, &ldquo;that you have been a very spoiled little girl and
+always imagine that things are done because you like them.
+My impression is that your papa wished you to learn
+French.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>If Sara had been older or less punctilious about being
+quite polite to people, she could have explained herself in a
+very few words. But, as it was, she felt a flush rising on
+her cheeks. Miss Minchin was a very severe and imposing
+person, and she seemed so absolutely sure that Sara knew
+nothing whatever of French that she felt as if it would be
+almost rude to correct her. The truth was that Sara could
+not remember the time when she had not seemed to know
+French. Her father had often spoken it to her when
+she had been a baby. Her mother had been a Frenchwoman,
+and Captain Crewe had loved her language, so it
+happened that Sara had always heard and been familiar
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I have never really learned French, but&mdash;but&mdash;&rdquo;
+she began, trying shyly to make herself clear.</p>
+
+<p>One of Miss Minchin&rsquo;s chief secret annoyances was that
+she did not speak French herself, and was desirous of concealing
+the irritating fact. She, therefore, had no intention
+of discussing the matter and laying herself open to innocent
+questioning by a new little pupil.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is enough,&rdquo; she said with polite tartness. &ldquo;If
+you have not learned, you must begin at once. The French
+master, Monsieur Dufarge, will be here in a few minutes.
+Take this book and look at it until he arrives.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara&rsquo;s cheeks felt warm. She went back to her seat and
+opened the book. She looked at the first page with a grave
+face. She knew it would be rude to smile, and she was very
+determined not to be rude. But it was very odd to find herself
+expected to study a page which told her that &ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
+père</i>&rdquo; meant &ldquo;the father,&rdquo; and &ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la mère</i>&rdquo; meant &ldquo;the
+mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin glanced toward her scrutinizingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You look rather cross, Sara,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I am sorry
+you do not like the idea of learning French.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am very fond of it,&rdquo; answered Sara, thinking she
+would try again; &ldquo;but&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must not say &lsquo;but&rsquo; when you are told to do
+things,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin. &ldquo;Look at your book again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Sara did so, and did not smile, even when she found
+that &ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le fils</i>&rdquo; meant &ldquo;the son,&rdquo; and &ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le frère</i>&rdquo; meant
+&ldquo;the brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When Monsieur Dufarge comes,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;I can
+make him understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur Dufarge arrived very shortly afterward. He
+was a very nice, intelligent, middle-aged Frenchman, and
+he looked interested when his eyes fell upon Sara trying
+politely to seem absorbed in her little book of phrases.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is this a new pupil for me, madame?&rdquo; he said to Miss
+Minchin. &ldquo;I hope that is my good fortune.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Her papa&mdash;Captain Crewe&mdash;is very anxious that she
+should begin the language. But I am afraid she has a
+childish prejudice against it. She does not seem to wish to
+learn,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry of that, mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said kindly to
+Sara. &ldquo;Perhaps, when we begin to study together, I may
+show you that it is a charming tongue.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Little Sara rose in her seat. She was beginning to feel
+rather desperate, as if she were almost in disgrace. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+looked up into Monsieur Dufarge&rsquo;s face with her big,
+green-gray eyes, and they were quite innocently appealing.
+She knew that he would understand as soon as she spoke.
+She began to explain quite simply in pretty and fluent
+French. Madame had not understood. She had not
+learned French exactly,&mdash;not out of books,&mdash;but her papa
+and other people had always spoken it to her, and she had
+read it and written it as she had read and written English.
+Her papa loved it, and she loved it because he did. Her
+dear mamma, who had died when she was born, had been
+French. She would be glad to learn anything monsieur
+would teach her, but what she had tried to explain to madame
+was that she already knew the words in this book&mdash;and
+she held out the little book of phrases.</p>
+
+<p>When she began to speak Miss Minchin started quite
+violently and sat staring at her over her eye-glasses, almost
+indignantly, until she had finished. Monsieur Dufarge
+began to smile, and his smile was one of great pleasure. To
+hear this pretty childish voice speaking his own language so
+simply and charmingly made him feel almost as if he were
+in his native land&mdash;which in dark, foggy days in London
+sometimes seemed worlds away. When she had finished,
+he took the phrase-book from her, with a look almost affectionate.
+But he spoke to Miss Minchin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, madame,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there is not much I can teach
+her. She has not <em>learned</em> French; she <em>is</em> French. Her accent
+is exquisite.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to have told me,&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Minchin,
+much mortified, turning on Sara.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I tried,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I&mdash;I suppose I did not begin
+right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin knew she had tried, and that it had not
+been her fault that she was not allowed to explain. And
+when she saw that the pupils had been listening and that
+Lavinia and Jessie were giggling behind their French
+grammars, she felt infuriated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Silence, young ladies!&rdquo; she said severely, rapping upon
+the desk. &ldquo;Silence at once!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she began from that minute to feel rather a grudge
+against her show pupil.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER III<br />
+
+<small>ERMENGARDE</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">On</span> that first morning, when Sara sat at Miss Minchin&rsquo;s
+side, aware that the whole school-room was
+devoting itself to observing her, she had noticed
+very soon one little girl, about her own age, who looked at
+her very hard with a pair of light, rather dull, blue eyes. She
+was a fat child who did not look as if she were in the least
+clever, but she had a good-naturedly pouting mouth. Her
+flaxen hair was braided in a tight pigtail, tied with a ribbon,
+and she had pulled this pigtail round her neck, and
+was biting the end of the ribbon, resting her elbows on the
+desk, as she stared wonderingly at the new pupil. When
+Monsieur Dufarge began to speak to Sara, she looked a
+little frightened; and when Sara stepped forward and,
+looking at him with the innocent, appealing eyes, answered
+him, without any warning, in French, the fat little girl gave
+a startled jump, and grew quite red in her awed amazement.
+Having wept hopeless tears for weeks in her efforts
+to remember that &ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la mère</i>&rdquo; meant &ldquo;the mother,&rdquo; and &ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le
+père</i>,&rdquo; &ldquo;the father,&rdquo;&mdash;when one spoke sensible English,&mdash;it
+was almost too much for her to suddenly find herself
+listening to a child her own age who seemed not only quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+familiar with these words, but apparently knew any number
+of others, and could mix them up with verbs as if they
+were mere trifles.</p>
+
+<p>She stared so hard and bit the ribbon on her pigtail so
+fast that she attracted the attention of Miss Minchin, who,
+feeling extremely cross at the moment, immediately
+pounced upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss St. John!&rdquo; she exclaimed severely. &ldquo;What do
+you mean by such conduct? Remove your elbows! Take
+your ribbon out of your mouth! Sit up at once!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Upon which Miss St. John gave another jump, and
+when Lavinia and Jessie tittered she became redder than
+ever&mdash;so red, indeed, that she almost looked as if tears were
+coming into her poor, dull, childish eyes; and Sara saw her
+and was so sorry for her that she began to rather like her
+and want to be her friend. It was a way of hers always to
+want to spring into any fray in which some one was made
+uncomfortable or unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If Sara had been a boy and lived a few centuries ago,&rdquo;
+her father used to say, &ldquo;she would have gone about the
+country with her sword drawn, rescuing and defending
+every one in distress. She always wants to fight when she
+sees people in trouble.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So she took rather a fancy to fat, slow, little Miss St.
+John, and kept glancing toward her through the morning.
+She saw that lessons were no easy matter to her, and that
+there was no danger of her ever being spoiled by being
+treated as a show pupil. Her French lesson was a pathetic
+thing. Her pronunciation made even Monsieur Dufarge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+smile in spite of himself, and Lavinia and Jessie and the
+more fortunate girls either giggled or looked at her in wondering
+disdain. But Sara did not laugh. She tried to look
+as if she did not hear when Miss St. John called &ldquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le bon
+pain</i>,&rdquo; &ldquo;<cite>lee bong pang</cite>.&rdquo; She had a fine, hot little temper
+of her own, and it made her feel rather savage when she
+heard the titters and saw the poor, stupid, distressed child&rsquo;s
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t funny, really,&rdquo; she said between her teeth, as
+she bent over her book. &ldquo;They ought not to laugh.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When lessons were over and the pupils gathered together
+in groups to talk, Sara looked for Miss St. John,
+and finding her bundled rather disconsolately in a window-seat,
+she walked over to her and spoke. She only said
+the kind of thing little girls always say to each other
+by way of beginning an acquaintance, but there was something
+nice and friendly about Sara, and people always
+felt it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>To explain Miss St. John&rsquo;s amazement one must recall
+that a new pupil is, for a short time, a somewhat uncertain
+thing; and of this new pupil the entire school had talked
+the night before until it fell asleep quite exhausted by excitement
+and contradictory stories. A new pupil with a
+carriage and a pony and a maid, and a voyage from India
+to discuss, was not an ordinary acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My name&rsquo;s Ermengarde St. John,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mine is Sara Crewe,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;Yours is very
+pretty. It sounds like a story-book.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you like it?&rdquo; fluttered Ermengarde. &ldquo;I&mdash;I like
+yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss St. John&rsquo;s chief trouble in life was that she had a
+clever father. Sometimes this seemed to her a dreadful calamity.
+If you have a father who knows everything, who
+speaks seven or eight languages, and has thousands of
+volumes which he has apparently learned by heart, he frequently
+expects you to be familiar with the contents of
+your lesson-books at least; and it is not improbable that he
+will feel you ought to be able to remember a few incidents
+of history and to write a French exercise. Ermengarde
+was a severe trial to Mr. St. John. He could not understand
+how a child of his could be a notably and unmistakably
+dull creature who never shone in anything.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good heavens!&rdquo; he had said more than once, as he
+stared at her, &ldquo;there are times when I think she is as stupid
+as her Aunt Eliza!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If her Aunt Eliza had been slow to learn and quick to
+forget a thing entirely when she had learned it, Ermengarde
+was strikingly like her. She was the monumental
+dunce of the school, and it could not be denied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She must be <em>made</em> to learn,&rdquo; her father said to Miss
+Minchin.</p>
+
+<p>Consequently Ermengarde spent the greater part of her
+life in disgrace or in tears. She learned things and forgot
+them; or, if she remembered them, she did not understand
+them. So it was natural that, having made Sara&rsquo;s acquaintance,
+she should sit and stare at her with profound admiration.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can speak French, can&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; she said respectfully.</p>
+
+<p>Sara got on to the window-seat, which was a big, deep
+one, and, tucking up her feet, sat with her hands clasped
+round her knees.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can speak it because I have heard it all my life,&rdquo;
+she answered. &ldquo;You could speak it if you had always
+heard it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, I couldn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Ermengarde. &ldquo;I <em>never</em> could
+speak it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; inquired Sara, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde shook her head so that the pigtail wabbled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You heard me just now,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m always like
+that. I can&rsquo;t <em>say</em> the words. They&rsquo;re so queer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She paused a moment, and then added with a touch of
+awe in her voice:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are <em>clever</em>, aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked out of the window into the dingy square,
+where the sparrows were hopping and twittering on the
+wet, iron railings and the sooty branches of the trees. She
+reflected a few moments. She had heard it said very often
+that she was &ldquo;clever,&rdquo; and she wondered if she was,&mdash;and
+<em>if</em> she was, how it had happened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t tell.&rdquo; Then, seeing
+a mournful look on the round, chubby face, she gave a little
+laugh and changed the subject.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would you like to see Emily?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is Emily?&rdquo; Ermengarde asked, just as Miss Minchin
+had done.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come up to my room and see,&rdquo; said Sara, holding out
+her hand.</p>
+
+<p>They jumped down from the window-seat together, and
+went up-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it true,&rdquo; Ermengarde whispered, as they went
+through the hall&mdash;&ldquo;is it true that you have a play-room all
+to yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Sara answered. &ldquo;Papa asked Miss Minchin to
+let me have one, because&mdash;well, it was because when I play
+I make up stories and tell them to myself, and I don&rsquo;t like
+people to hear me. It spoils it if I think people listen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They had reached the passage leading to Sara&rsquo;s room
+by this time, and Ermengarde stopped short, staring, and
+quite losing her breath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You <em>make up</em> stories!&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;Can you do that&mdash;as
+well as speak French? <em>Can</em> you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked at her in simple surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, any one can make up things,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Have
+you never tried?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put her hand warningly on Ermengarde&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us go very quietly to the door,&rdquo; she whispered,
+&ldquo;and then I will open it quite suddenly; perhaps we may
+catch her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was half laughing, but there was a touch of mysterious
+hope in her eyes which fascinated Ermengarde,
+though she had not the remotest idea what it meant, or
+whom it was she wanted to &ldquo;catch,&rdquo; or why she wanted to
+catch her. Whatsoever she meant, Ermengarde was sure
+it was something delightfully exciting. So, quite thrilled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+with expectation, she followed her on tiptoe along the passage.
+They made not the least noise until they reached
+the door. Then Sara suddenly turned the handle, and
+threw it wide open. Its opening revealed the room quite
+neat and quiet, a fire gently burning in the grate, and a
+wonderful doll sitting in a chair by it, apparently reading
+a book.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, she got back to her seat before we could see her!&rdquo;
+Sara exclaimed. &ldquo;Of course they always do. They are as
+quick as lightning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde looked from her to the doll and back again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can she&mdash;walk?&rdquo; she asked breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Sara. &ldquo;At least I believe she can. At
+least I <em>pretend</em> I believe she can. And that makes it seem
+as if it were true. Have you never pretended things?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Ermengarde. &ldquo;Never. I&mdash;tell me about
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was so bewitched by this odd, new companion that
+she actually stared at Sara instead of at Emily&mdash;notwithstanding
+that Emily was the most attractive doll person
+she had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us sit down,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;and I will tell you. It&rsquo;s
+so easy that when you begin you can&rsquo;t stop. You just go
+on and on doing it always. And it&rsquo;s beautiful. Emily,
+you must listen. This is Ermengarde St. John, Emily.
+Ermengarde, this is Emily. Would you like to hold her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, may I?&rdquo; said Ermengarde. &ldquo;May I, really? She
+<em>is</em> beautiful!&rdquo; And Emily was put into her arms.</p>
+
+<p>Never in her dull, short life had Miss St. John dreamed
+of such an hour as the one she spent with the queer new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+pupil before they heard the lunch-bell ring and were
+obliged to go down-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Sara sat upon the hearth-rug and told her strange things.
+She sat rather huddled up, and her green eyes shone and
+her cheeks flushed. She told stories of the voyage, and
+stories of India; but what fascinated Ermengarde the
+most was her fancy about the dolls who walked and talked,
+and who could do anything they chose when the human
+beings were out of the room, but who must keep their powers
+a secret and so flew back to their places &ldquo;like lightning&rdquo;
+when people returned to the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>We</em> couldn&rsquo;t do it,&rdquo; said Sara, seriously. &ldquo;You see,
+it&rsquo;s a kind of magic.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Once, when she was relating the story of the search for
+Emily, Ermengarde saw her face suddenly change. A
+cloud seemed to pass over it and put out the light in her
+shining eyes. She drew her breath in so sharply that it
+made a funny, sad little sound, and then she shut her lips
+and held them tightly closed, as if she was determined
+either to do or <em>not</em> to do something. Ermengarde had an
+idea that if she had been like any other little girl, she might
+have suddenly burst out sobbing and crying. But she did
+not.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you a&mdash;a pain?&rdquo; Ermengarde ventured.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Sara answered, after a moment&rsquo;s silence. &ldquo;But
+it is not in my body.&rdquo; Then she added something in
+a low voice which she tried to keep quite steady, and it was
+this: &ldquo;Do you love your father more than anything else in
+all the whole world?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde&rsquo;s mouth fell open a little. She knew that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+it would be far from behaving like a respectable child at a
+select seminary to say that it had never occurred to you
+that you <em>could</em> love your father, that you would do anything
+desperate to avoid being left alone in his society for
+ten minutes. She was, indeed, greatly embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I scarcely ever see him,&rdquo; she stammered. &ldquo;He is
+always in the library&mdash;reading things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I love mine more than all the world ten times over,&rdquo;
+Sara said. &ldquo;That is what my pain is. He has gone away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put her head quietly down on her little, huddled-up
+knees, and sat very still for a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s going to cry out loud,&rdquo; thought Ermengarde,
+fearfully.</p>
+
+<p>But she did not. Her short, black locks tumbled about
+her ears, and she sat still. Then she spoke without lifting
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I promised him I would bear it,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And I
+will. You have to bear things. Think what soldiers bear!
+Papa is a soldier. If there was a war he would have to bear
+marching and thirstiness and, perhaps, deep wounds. And
+he would never say a word&mdash;not one word.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde could only gaze at her, but she felt that she
+was beginning to adore her. She was so wonderful and
+different from any one else.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, she lifted her face and shook back her black
+locks, with a queer little smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I go on talking and talking,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and telling
+you things about pretending, I shall bear it better. You
+don&rsquo;t forget, but you bear it better.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde did not know why a lump came into her
+throat and her eyes felt as if tears were in them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lavinia and Jessie are &lsquo;best friends,&rsquo;&rdquo; she said rather
+huskily. &ldquo;I wish we could be &lsquo;best friends.&rsquo; Would you
+have me for yours? You&rsquo;re clever, and I&rsquo;m the stupidest
+child in the school, but I&mdash;oh, I do so like you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad of that,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;It makes you thankful
+when you are liked. Yes. We will be friends. And
+I&rsquo;ll tell you what&rdquo;&mdash;a sudden gleam lighting her face&mdash;&ldquo;I
+can help you with your French lessons.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER IV<br />
+
+<small>LOTTIE</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">If</span> Sara had been a different kind of child, the life she
+led at Miss Minchin&rsquo;s Select Seminary for the next
+ten years would not have been at all good for her.
+She was treated more as if she were a distinguished guest at
+the establishment than as if she were a mere little girl. If
+she had been a self-opinionated, domineering child, she
+might have become disagreeable enough to be unbearable
+through being so much indulged and flattered. If she had
+been an indolent child, she would have learned nothing.
+Privately Miss Minchin disliked her, but she was far too
+worldly a woman to do or say anything which might make
+such a desirable pupil wish to leave her school. She knew
+quite well that if Sara wrote to her papa to tell him she was
+uncomfortable or unhappy, Captain Crewe would remove
+her at once. Miss Minchin&rsquo;s opinion was that if a child
+were continually praised and never forbidden to do what
+she liked, she would be sure to be fond of the place where
+she was so treated. Accordingly, Sara was praised for her
+quickness at her lessons, for her good manners, for her amiability
+to her fellow-pupils, for her generosity if she gave
+sixpence to a beggar out of her full little purse; the simplest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+thing she did was treated as if it were a virtue, and if
+she had not had a disposition and a clever little brain, she
+might have been a very self-satisfied young person. But
+the clever little brain told her a great many sensible and
+true things about herself and her circumstances, and now
+and then she talked these things over to Ermengarde as
+time went on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Things happen to people by accident,&rdquo; she used to say.
+&ldquo;A lot of nice accidents have happened to me. It just
+<em>happened</em> that I always liked lessons and books, and could
+remember things when I learned them. It just happened
+that I was born with a father who was beautiful and nice
+and clever, and could give me everything I liked. Perhaps
+I have not really a good temper at all, but if you have
+everything you want and every one is kind to you, how can
+you help but be good-tempered? I don&rsquo;t know&rdquo;&mdash;looking
+quite serious&mdash;&ldquo;how I shall ever find out whether I am
+really a nice child or a horrid one. Perhaps I&rsquo;m a <em>hideous</em>
+child, and no one will ever know, just because I never have
+any trials.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lavinia has no trials,&rdquo; said Ermengarde, stolidly, &ldquo;and
+she is horrid enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara rubbed the end of her little nose reflectively, as she
+thought the matter over.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said at last, &ldquo;perhaps&mdash;perhaps that is because
+Lavinia is <em>growing</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was the result of a charitable recollection of having
+heard Miss Amelia say that Lavinia was growing so fast
+that she believed it affected her health and temper.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lavinia, in fact, was spiteful. She was inordinately
+jealous of Sara. Until the new pupil&rsquo;s arrival, she had felt
+herself the leader in the school. She had led because she
+was capable of making herself extremely disagreeable if
+the others did not follow her. She domineered over the little
+children, and assumed grand airs with those big enough
+to be her companions. She was rather pretty, and had
+been the best-dressed pupil in the procession when the
+Select Seminary walked out two by two, until Sara&rsquo;s velvet
+coats and sable muffs appeared, combined with drooping
+ostrich feathers, and were led by Miss Minchin at the head
+of the line. This, at the beginning, had been bitter enough;
+but as time went on it became apparent that Sara was a
+leader, too, and not because she could make herself disagreeable,
+but because she never did.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one thing about Sara Crewe,&rdquo; Jessie had enraged
+her &ldquo;best friend&rdquo; by saying honestly,&mdash;&ldquo;she&rsquo;s never
+&lsquo;grand&rsquo; about herself the least bit, and you know she might
+be, Lavvie. I believe I couldn&rsquo;t help being&mdash;just a little&mdash;if
+I had so many fine things and was made such a fuss
+over. It&rsquo;s disgusting, the way Miss Minchin shows her off
+when parents come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Dear Sara must come into the drawing-room and talk
+to Mrs. Musgrave about India,&rsquo;&rdquo; mimicked Lavinia, in her
+most highly flavored imitation of Miss Minchin. &ldquo;&lsquo;Dear
+Sara must speak French to Lady Pitkin. Her accent is so
+perfect.&rsquo; She didn&rsquo;t learn her French at the Seminary, at
+any rate. And there&rsquo;s nothing so clever in her knowing it.
+She says herself she didn&rsquo;t learn it at all. She just picked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+it up, because she always heard her papa speak it. And, as
+to her papa, there is nothing so grand in being an Indian
+officer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Jessie, slowly, &ldquo;he&rsquo;s killed tigers. He
+killed the one in the skin Sara has in her room. That&rsquo;s why
+she likes it so. She lies on it and strokes its head, and talks
+to it as if it was a cat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s always doing something silly,&rdquo; snapped Lavinia.
+&ldquo;My mamma says that way of hers of pretending
+things is silly. She says she will grow up eccentric.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was quite true that Sara was never &ldquo;grand.&rdquo; She was
+a friendly little soul, and shared her privileges and belongings
+with a free hand. The little ones, who were accustomed
+to being disdained and ordered out of the way by
+mature ladies aged ten and twelve, were never made to
+cry by this most envied of them all. She was a motherly
+young person, and when people fell down and scraped their
+knees, she ran and helped them up and patted them, or
+found in her pocket a bonbon or some other article of a
+soothing nature. She never pushed them out of her way
+or alluded to their years as a humiliation and a blot upon
+their small characters.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you are four you are four,&rdquo; she said severely to Lavinia
+on an occasion of her having&mdash;it must be confessed&mdash;slapped
+Lottie and called her &ldquo;a brat&rdquo;; &ldquo;but you will be
+five next year, and six the year after that. And,&rdquo; opening
+large, convicting eyes, &ldquo;it only takes sixteen years to make
+you twenty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; said Lavinia; &ldquo;how we can calculate!&rdquo; In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+fact, it was not to be denied that sixteen and four made
+twenty,&mdash;and twenty was an age the most daring were
+scarcely bold enough to dream of.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="illus052" id="illus052"></a>
+<img src="images/illus052.jpg" width="400" height="540" alt="More than once she had been known to have a tea-party.&hellip;" title="" />
+<br /><span class="caption">More than once she had been known to have a tea-party.&hellip;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>So the younger children adored Sara. More than once
+she had been known to have a tea-party, made up of these
+despised ones, in her own room. And Emily had been
+played with, and Emily&rsquo;s own tea-service used&mdash;the one
+with cups which held quite a lot of much-sweetened weak
+tea and had blue flowers on them. No one had seen such
+a very real doll&rsquo;s tea-set before. From that afternoon Sara
+was regarded as a goddess and a queen by the entire alphabet
+class.</p>
+
+<p>Lottie Legh worshipped her to such an extent that if
+Sara had not been a motherly person, she would have found
+her tiresome. Lottie had been sent to school by a rather
+flighty young papa who could not imagine what else to do
+with her. Her young mother had died, and as the child had
+been treated like a favorite doll or a very spoiled pet monkey
+or lap-dog ever since the first hour of her life, she was a
+very appalling little creature. When she wanted anything
+or did not want anything she wept and howled; and, as she
+always wanted the things she could not have, and did not
+want the things that were best for her, her shrill little voice
+was usually to be heard uplifted in wails in one part of the
+house or another.</p>
+
+<p>Her strongest weapon was that in some mysterious way
+she had found out that a very small girl who had lost her
+mother was a person who ought to be pitied and made
+much of. She had probably heard some grown-up people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+talking her over in the early days, after her mother&rsquo;s
+death. So it became her habit to make great use of this
+knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>The first time Sara took her in charge was one morning
+when, on passing a sitting-room, she heard both Miss Minchin
+and Miss Amelia trying to suppress the angry wails
+of some child who, evidently, refused to be silenced. She
+refused so strenuously indeed that Miss Minchin was
+obliged to almost shout&mdash;in a stately and severe manner&mdash;to
+make herself heard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What <em>is</em> she crying for?&rdquo; she almost yelled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh&mdash;oh&mdash;oh!&rdquo; Sara heard; &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t got any mam&mdash;ma-a!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Lottie!&rdquo; screamed Miss Amelia. &ldquo;Do stop, darling!
+Don&rsquo;t cry! Please don&rsquo;t!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! oh! oh!&rdquo; Lottie howled tempestuously. &ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t&mdash;got&mdash;any&mdash;mam&mdash;ma-a!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She ought to be whipped,&rdquo; Miss Minchin proclaimed.
+&ldquo;You <em>shall</em> be whipped, you naughty child!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lottie wailed more loudly than ever. Miss Amelia began
+to cry. Miss Minchin&rsquo;s voice rose until it almost thundered,
+then suddenly she sprang up from her chair in impotent
+indignation and flounced out of the room, leaving Miss
+Amelia to arrange the matter.</p>
+
+<p>Sara had paused in the hall, wondering if she ought to
+go into the room, because she had recently begun a friendly
+acquaintance with Lottie and might be able to quiet her.
+When Miss Minchin came out and saw her, she looked
+rather annoyed. She realized that her voice, as heard from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+inside the room, could not have sounded either dignified or
+amiable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara!&rdquo; she exclaimed, endeavoring to produce a
+suitable smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I stopped,&rdquo; explained Sara, &ldquo;because I knew it was
+Lottie,&mdash;and I thought, perhaps&mdash;just perhaps, I could
+make her be quiet. May I try, Miss Minchin?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you can. You are a clever child,&rdquo; answered Miss
+Minchin, drawing in her mouth sharply. Then, seeing that
+Sara looked slightly chilled by her asperity, she changed
+her manner. &ldquo;But you are clever in everything,&rdquo; she said
+in her approving way. &ldquo;I dare say you can manage her.
+Go in.&rdquo; And she left her.</p>
+
+<p>When Sara entered the room, Lottie was lying upon the
+floor, screaming and kicking her small fat legs violently,
+and Miss Amelia was bending over her in consternation
+and despair, looking quite red and damp with heat. Lottie
+had always found, when in her own nursery at home, that
+kicking and screaming would always be quieted by any
+means she insisted on. Poor plump Miss Amelia was trying
+first one method, and then another.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor darling!&rdquo; she said one moment; &ldquo;I know you
+haven&rsquo;t any mamma, poor&mdash;&rdquo; Then in quite another tone:
+&ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t stop, Lottie, I will shake you. Poor little
+angel! There&mdash;there! You wicked, bad, detestable child,
+I will smack you! I will!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara went to them quietly. She did not know at all what
+she was going to do, but she had a vague inward conviction
+that it would be better not to say such different kinds of
+things quite so helplessly and excitedly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Amelia,&rdquo; she said in a low voice, &ldquo;Miss Minchin
+says I may try to make her stop&mdash;may I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Amelia turned and looked at her hopelessly. &ldquo;Oh,
+<em>do</em> you think you can?&rdquo; she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether I <em>can</em>,&rdquo; answered Sara, still in
+her half-whisper; &ldquo;but I will try.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Amelia stumbled up from her knees with a heavy
+sigh, and Lottie&rsquo;s fat little legs kicked as hard as ever.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you will steal out of the room,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;I will
+stay with her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara!&rdquo; almost whimpered Miss Amelia. &ldquo;We
+never had such a dreadful child before. I don&rsquo;t believe we
+<em>can</em> keep her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But she crept out of the room, and was very much relieved
+to find an excuse for doing it.</p>
+
+<p>Sara stood by the howling, furious child for a few moments,
+and looked down at her without saying anything.
+Then she sat down flat on the floor beside her and waited.
+Except for Lottie&rsquo;s angry screams, the room was quite
+quiet. This was a new state of affairs for little Miss Legh,
+who was accustomed, when she screamed, to hear other people
+protest and implore and command and coax by turns.
+To lie and kick and shriek, and find the only person near
+you not seeming to mind in the least, attracted her attention.
+She opened her tight-shut streaming eyes to see who
+this person was. And it was only another little girl. But
+it was the one who owned Emily and all the nice things.
+And she was looking at her steadily and as if she was
+merely thinking. Having paused for a few seconds to find
+this out, Lottie thought she must begin again, but the quiet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+of the room and of Sara&rsquo;s odd, interested face made her
+first howl rather half-hearted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;haven&rsquo;t&mdash;any&mdash;ma&mdash;ma&mdash;ma-a!&rdquo; she announced;
+but her voice was not so strong.</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked at her still more steadily, but with a sort of
+understanding in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Neither have I,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>This was so unexpected that it was astounding. Lottie
+actually dropped her legs, gave a wriggle, and lay and
+stared. A new idea will stop a crying child when nothing
+else will. Also it was true that while Lottie disliked Miss
+Minchin, who was cross, and Miss Amelia, who was foolishly
+indulgent, she rather liked Sara, little as she knew her.
+She did not want to give up her grievance, but her thoughts
+were distracted from it, so she wriggled again, and, after a
+sulky sob, said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara paused a moment. Because she had been told that
+her mamma was in heaven, she had thought a great deal
+about the matter, and her thoughts had not been quite like
+those of other people.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She went to heaven,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But I am sure she
+comes out sometimes to see me&mdash;though I don&rsquo;t see her.
+So does yours. Perhaps they can both see us now. Perhaps
+they are both in this room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lottie sat bolt upright, and looked about her. She
+was a pretty, little, curly-headed creature, and her round
+eyes were like wet forget-me-nots. If her mamma had
+seen her during the last half-hour, she might not have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+thought her the kind of child who ought to be related to
+an angel.</p>
+
+<p>Sara went on talking. Perhaps some people might think
+that what she said was rather like a fairy story, but it was
+all so real to her own imagination that Lottie began to listen
+in spite of herself. She had been told that her mamma
+had wings and a crown, and she had been shown pictures of
+ladies in beautiful white night-gowns, who were said to be
+angels. But Sara seemed to be telling a real story about a
+lovely country where real people were.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are fields and fields of flowers,&rdquo; she said, forgetting
+herself, as usual, when she began, and talking rather
+as if she were in a dream&mdash;&ldquo;fields and fields of lilies&mdash;and
+when the soft wind blows over them it wafts the scent of
+them into the air&mdash;and everybody always breathes it, because
+the soft wind is always blowing. And little children
+run about in the lily-fields and gather armsful of them,
+and laugh and make little wreaths. And the streets are
+shining. And no one is ever tired, however far they walk.
+They can float anywhere they like. And there are walls
+made of pearl and gold all round the city, but they are low
+enough for the people to go and lean on them, and look
+down on to the earth and smile, and send beautiful messages.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Whatsoever story she had begun to tell, Lottie would, no
+doubt, have stopped crying, and been fascinated into listening;
+but there was no denying that this story was prettier
+than most others. She dragged herself close to Sara, and
+drank in every word until the end came&mdash;far too soon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+When it did come, she was so sorry that she put up her lip
+ominously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to go there,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I&mdash;haven&rsquo;t any
+mamma in this school.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara saw the danger-signal, and came out of her dream.
+She took hold of the chubby hand and pulled her close to
+her side with a coaxing little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will be your mamma,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We will play that
+you are my little girl. And Emily shall be your sister.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lottie&rsquo;s dimples all began to show themselves.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall she?&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Sara, jumping to her feet. &ldquo;Let us
+go and tell her. And then I will wash your face and brush
+your hair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To which Lottie agreed quite cheerfully, and trotted out
+of the room and up-stairs with her, without seeming even
+to remember that the whole of the last hour&rsquo;s tragedy had
+been caused by the fact that she had refused to be washed
+and brushed for lunch and Miss Minchin had been called
+in to use her majestic authority.</p>
+
+<p>And from that time Sara was an adopted mother.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER V<br />
+
+<small>BECKY</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Of</span> course the greatest power Sara possessed and the
+one which gained her even more followers than
+her luxuries and the fact that she was &ldquo;the show
+pupil,&rdquo; the power that Lavinia and certain other girls
+were most envious of, and at the same time most fascinated
+by in spite of themselves, was her power of telling stories
+and of making everything she talked about seem like a
+story, whether it was one or not.</p>
+
+<p>Any one who has been at school with a teller of stories
+knows what the wonder means&mdash;how he or she is followed
+about and besought in a whisper to relate romances; how
+groups gather round and hang on the outskirts of the favored
+party in the hope of being allowed to join it and
+listen. Sara not only could tell stories, but she adored telling
+them. When she sat or stood in the midst of a circle
+and began to invent wonderful things, her green eyes grew
+big and shining, her cheeks flushed, and, without knowing
+that she was doing it, she began to act and made what she
+told lovely or alarming by the raising or dropping of her
+voice, the bend and sway of her slim body, and the dramatic
+movement of her hands. She forgot that she was talking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+to listening children; she saw and lived with the fairy folk,
+or the kings and queens and beautiful ladies, whose adventures
+she was narrating. Sometimes when she had finished
+her story, she was quite out of breath with excitement, and
+would lay her hand on her thin, little, quick-rising chest,
+and half laugh as if at herself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I am telling it,&rdquo; she would say, &ldquo;it doesn&rsquo;t seem
+as if it was only made up. It seems more real than you
+are&mdash;more real than the school-room. I feel as if I were
+all the people in the story&mdash;one after the other. It <em>is</em>
+queer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had been at Miss Minchin&rsquo;s school about two years
+when, one foggy winter&rsquo;s afternoon, as she was getting
+out of her carriage, comfortably wrapped up in her warmest
+velvets and furs and looking very much grander than
+she knew, she caught sight, as she crossed the pavement,
+of a dingy little figure standing on the area steps, and
+stretching its neck so that its wide-open eyes might peer at
+her through the railings. Something in the eagerness and
+timidity of the smudgy face made her look at it, and when
+she looked she smiled because it was her way to smile at
+people.</p>
+
+<p>But the owner of the smudgy face and the wide-open
+eyes evidently was afraid that she ought not to have been
+caught looking at pupils of importance. She dodged out
+of sight like a Jack-in-the-box and scurried back into the
+kitchen, disappearing so suddenly that if she had not been
+such a poor, little forlorn thing, Sara would have laughed
+in spite of herself. That very evening, as Sara was sitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+in the midst of a group of listeners in a corner of the school-room
+telling one of her stories, the very same figure timidly
+entered the room, carrying a coal-box much too heavy
+for her, and knelt down upon the hearth-rug to replenish
+the fire and sweep up the ashes.</p>
+
+<p>She was cleaner than she had been when she peeped
+through the area railings, but she looked just as frightened.
+She was evidently afraid to look at the children or seem to
+be listening. She put on pieces of coal cautiously with her
+fingers so that she might make no disturbing noise, and
+she swept about the fire-irons very softly. But Sara saw
+in two minutes that she was deeply interested in what was
+going on, and that she was doing her work slowly in the
+hope of catching a word here and there. And realizing
+this, she raised her voice and spoke more clearly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Mermaids swam softly about in the crystal-green
+water, and dragged after them a fishing-net woven of deep-sea
+pearls,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The Princess sat on the white rock
+and watched them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a wonderful story about a princess who was loved
+by a Prince Merman, and went to live with him in shining
+caves under the sea.</p>
+
+<p>The small drudge before the grate swept the hearth once
+and then swept it again. Having done it twice, she did it
+three times; and, as she was doing it the third time, the
+sound of the story so lured her to listen that she fell under
+the spell and actually forgot that she had no right to listen
+at all, and also forgot everything else. She sat down upon
+her heels as she knelt on the hearth-rug, and the brush hung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+idly in her fingers. The voice of the story-teller went on
+and drew her with it into winding grottos under the sea,
+glowing with soft, clear blue light, and paved with pure
+golden sands. Strange sea flowers and grasses waved
+about her, and far away faint singing and music echoed.</p>
+
+<p>The hearth-brush fell from the work-roughened hand,
+and Lavinia Herbert looked round.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That girl has been listening,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>The culprit snatched up her brush, and scrambled to her
+feet. She caught at the coal-box and simply scuttled out
+of the room like a frightened rabbit.</p>
+
+<p>Sara felt rather hot-tempered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I knew she was listening,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Why shouldn&rsquo;t
+she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lavinia tossed her head with great elegance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she remarked, &ldquo;I do not know whether your
+mamma would like you to tell stories to servant girls, but I
+know <em>my</em> mamma wouldn&rsquo;t like <em>me</em> to do it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My mamma!&rdquo; said Sara, looking odd. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe
+she would mind in the least. She knows that stories
+belong to everybody.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; retorted Lavinia, in severe recollection,
+&ldquo;that your mamma was dead. How can she know things?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think she <em>doesn&rsquo;t</em> know things?&rdquo; said Sara, in
+her stern little voice. Sometimes she had a rather stern
+little voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara&rsquo;s mamma knows everything,&rdquo; piped in Lottie.
+&ldquo;So does my mamma&mdash;&rsquo;cept Sara is my mamma at Miss
+Minchin&rsquo;s&mdash;my other one knows everything. The streets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+are shining, and there are fields and fields of lilies, and
+everybody gathers them. Sara tells me when she puts me
+to bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You wicked thing,&rdquo; said Lavinia, turning on Sara;
+&ldquo;making fairy stories about heaven.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are much more splendid stories in Revelation,&rdquo;
+returned Sara. &ldquo;Just look and see! How do you know
+mine are fairy stories? But I can tell you&rdquo;&mdash;with a fine bit
+of unheavenly temper&mdash;&ldquo;you will never find out whether
+they are or not if you&rsquo;re not kinder to people than you are
+now. Come along, Lottie.&rdquo; And she marched out of the
+room, rather hoping that she might see the little servant
+again somewhere, but she found no trace of her when she
+got into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is that little girl who makes the fires?&rdquo; she asked
+Mariette that night.</p>
+
+<p>Mariette broke forth into a flow of description.</p>
+
+<p>Ah, indeed, Mademoiselle Sara might well ask. She
+was a forlorn little thing who had just taken the place of
+scullery-maid&mdash;though, as to being scullery-maid, she was
+everything else besides. She blacked boots and grates, and
+carried heavy coal-scuttles up and down stairs, and
+scrubbed floors and cleaned windows, and was ordered
+about by everybody. She was fourteen years old, but was
+so stunted in growth that she looked about twelve. In
+truth, Mariette was sorry for her. She was so timid that
+if one chanced to speak to her it appeared as if her poor,
+frightened eyes would jump out of her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is her name?&rdquo; asked Sara, who had sat by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+table, with her chin on her hands, as she listened absorbedly
+to the recital.</p>
+
+<p>Her name was Becky. Mariette heard every one below-stairs
+calling, &ldquo;Becky, do this,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Becky, do that,&rdquo;
+every five minutes in the day.</p>
+
+<p>Sara sat and looked into the fire, reflecting on Becky for
+some time after Mariette left her. She made up a story
+of which Becky was the ill-used heroine. She thought she
+looked as if she had never had quite enough to eat. Her
+very eyes were hungry. She hoped she should see her
+again, but though she caught sight of her carrying things
+up or down stairs on several occasions, she always seemed in
+such a hurry and so afraid of being seen that it was impossible
+to speak to her.</p>
+
+<p>But a few weeks later, on another foggy afternoon,
+when she entered her sitting-room she found herself confronting
+a rather pathetic picture. In her own special
+and pet easy-chair before the bright fire, Becky&mdash;with a
+coal smudge on her nose and several on her apron, with
+her poor little cap hanging half off her head, and an
+empty coal-box on the floor near her&mdash;sat fast asleep, tired
+out beyond even the endurance of her hard-working young
+body. She had been sent up to put the bedrooms in order
+for the evening. There were a great many of them, and
+she had been running about all day. Sara&rsquo;s rooms she had
+saved until the last. They were not like the other rooms,
+which were plain and bare. Ordinary pupils were expected
+to be satisfied with mere necessaries. Sara&rsquo;s comfortable
+sitting-room seemed a bower of luxury to the scullery-maid,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+though it was, in fact, merely a nice, bright little room.
+But there were pictures and books in it, and curious things
+from India; there was a sofa and the low, soft chair; Emily
+sat in a chair of her own, with the air of a presiding goddess,
+and there was always a glowing fire and a polished
+grate. Becky saved it until the end of her afternoon&rsquo;s
+work, because it rested her to go into it, and she always
+hoped to snatch a few minutes to sit down in the soft chair
+and look about her, and think about the wonderful good
+fortune of the child who owned such surroundings and who
+went out on the cold days in beautiful hats and coats one
+tried to catch a glimpse of through the area railing.</p>
+
+<p>On this afternoon, when she had sat down, the sensation
+of relief to her short, aching legs had been so wonderful
+and delightful that it had seemed to soothe her whole body,
+and the glow of warmth and comfort from the fire had
+crept over her like a spell, until, as she looked at the red
+coals, a tired, slow smile stole over her smudged face, her
+head nodded forward without her being aware of it, her
+eyes drooped, and she fell fast asleep. She had really been
+only about ten minutes in the room when Sara entered, but
+she was in as deep a sleep as if she had been, like the Sleeping
+Beauty, slumbering for a hundred years. But she did
+not look&mdash;poor Becky!&mdash;like a Sleeping Beauty at all.
+She looked only like an ugly, stunted, worn-out little scullery
+drudge.</p>
+
+<p>Sara seemed as much unlike her as if she were a creature
+from another world.</p>
+
+<p>On this particular afternoon she had been taking her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+dancing-lesson, and the afternoon on which the dancing-master
+appeared was rather a grand occasion at the seminary,
+though it occurred every week. The pupils were
+attired in their prettiest frocks, and as Sara danced
+particularly well, she was very much brought forward, and
+Mariette was requested to make her as diaphanous and fine
+as possible.</p>
+
+<p>To-day a frock the color of a rose had been put on her,
+and Mariette had bought some real buds and made her a
+wreath to wear on her black locks. She had been learning
+a new, delightful dance in which she had been skimming
+and flying about the room, like a large rose-colored butterfly,
+and the enjoyment and exercise had brought a brilliant,
+happy glow into her face.</p>
+
+<p>When she entered the room, she floated in with a few
+of the butterfly steps,&mdash;and there sat Becky, nodding her
+cap sideways off her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Sara, softly, when she saw her. &ldquo;That
+poor thing!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It did not occur to her to feel cross at finding her pet
+chair occupied by the small, dingy figure. To tell the
+truth, she was quite glad to find it there. When the ill-used
+heroine of her story wakened, she could talk to her.
+She crept toward her quietly, and stood looking at her.
+Becky gave a little snore.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish she&rsquo;d waken herself,&rdquo; Sara said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like
+to waken her. But Miss Minchin would be cross if she
+found out. I&rsquo;ll just wait a few minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took a seat on the edge of the table, and sat swinging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+her slim, rose-colored legs, and wondering what it
+would be best to do. Miss Amelia might come in at any
+moment, and if she did, Becky would be sure to be scolded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she is so tired,&rdquo; she thought. &ldquo;She <em>is</em> so tired!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A piece of flaming coal ended her perplexity for her that
+very moment. It broke off from a large lump and fell on
+to the fender. Becky started, and opened her eyes with a
+frightened gasp. She did not know she had fallen asleep.
+She had only sat down for one moment and felt the beautiful
+glow&mdash;and here she found herself staring in wild
+alarm at the wonderful pupil, who sat perched quite near
+her, like a rose-colored fairy, with interested eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She sprang up and clutched at her cap. She felt it
+dangling over her ear, and tried wildly to put it straight.
+Oh, she had got herself into trouble now with a vengeance!
+To have impudently fallen asleep on such a young lady&rsquo;s
+chair! She would be turned out of doors without wages.</p>
+
+<p>She made a sound like a big breathless sob.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, miss! Oh, miss!&rdquo; she stuttered. &ldquo;I arst yer pardon,
+miss! Oh, I do, miss!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara jumped down, and came quite close to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be frightened,&rdquo; she said, quite as if she had been
+speaking to a little girl like herself. &ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t matter
+the least bit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t go to do it, miss,&rdquo; protested Becky. &ldquo;It was
+the warm fire&mdash;an&rsquo; me bein&rsquo; so tired. It&mdash;it <em>wasn&rsquo;t</em> imperence!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara broke into a friendly little laugh, and put her hand
+on her shoulder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were tired,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;you could not help it. You
+are not really awake yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>How poor Becky stared at her! In fact, she had never
+heard such a nice, friendly sound in any one&rsquo;s voice before.
+She was used to being ordered about and scolded, and having
+her ears boxed. And this one&mdash;in her rose-colored
+dancing afternoon splendor&mdash;was looking at her as if she
+were not a culprit at all&mdash;as if she had a right to be tired&mdash;even
+to fall asleep! The touch of the soft, slim little paw
+on her shoulder was the most amazing thing she had ever
+known.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t&mdash;ain&rsquo;t yer angry, miss?&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t
+yer goin&rsquo; to tell the missus?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; cried out Sara. &ldquo;Of course I&rsquo;m not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The woful fright in the coal-smutted face made her suddenly
+so sorry that she could scarcely bear it. One of her
+queer thoughts rushed into her mind. She put her hand
+against Becky&rsquo;s cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;we are just the same&mdash;I am only a
+little girl like you. It&rsquo;s just an accident that I am not
+you, and you are not me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky did not understand in the least. Her mind could
+not grasp such amazing thoughts, and &ldquo;an accident&rdquo;
+meant to her a calamity in which some one was run over
+or fell off a ladder and was carried to &ldquo;the &rsquo;orspital.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A&rsquo; accident, miss,&rdquo; she fluttered respectfully. &ldquo;Is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Sara answered, and she looked at her dreamily
+for a moment. But the next she spoke in a different tone.
+She realized that Becky did not know what she meant.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you done your work?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Dare you
+stay here a few minutes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky lost her breath again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, miss? Me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara ran to the door, opened it, and looked out and listened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No one is anywhere about,&rdquo; she explained. &ldquo;If your
+bedrooms are finished, perhaps you might stay a tiny while.
+I thought&mdash;perhaps&mdash;you might like a piece of cake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The next ten minutes seemed to Becky like a sort of
+delirium. Sara opened a cupboard, and gave her a thick
+slice of cake. She seemed to rejoice when it was devoured
+in hungry bites. She talked and asked questions, and
+laughed until Becky&rsquo;s fears actually began to calm themselves,
+and she once or twice gathered boldness enough to
+ask a question or so herself, daring as she felt it to be.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is that&mdash;&rdquo; she ventured, looking longingly at the rose-colored
+frock. And she asked it almost in a whisper. &ldquo;Is
+that there your best?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is one of my dancing-frocks,&rdquo; answered Sara. &ldquo;I
+like it, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds Becky was almost speechless with admiration.
+Then she said in an awed voice:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Onct I see a princess. I was standin&rsquo; in the street with
+the crowd outside Covin&rsquo; Garden, watchin&rsquo; the swells go
+inter the operer. An&rsquo; there was one every one stared at
+most. They ses to each other, &lsquo;That&rsquo;s the princess.&rsquo; She
+was a growed-up young lady, but she was pink all over&mdash;gownd
+an&rsquo; cloak, an&rsquo; flowers an&rsquo; all. I called her to mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+the minnit I see you, sittin&rsquo; there on the table, miss. You
+looked like her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve often thought,&rdquo; said Sara, in her reflecting voice,
+&ldquo;that I should like to be a princess; I wonder what it feels
+like. I believe I will begin pretending I am one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky stared at her admiringly, and, as before, did not
+understand her in the least. She watched her with a sort of
+adoration. Very soon Sara left her reflections and turned
+to her with a new question.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Becky,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;weren&rsquo;t you listening to that
+story?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, miss,&rdquo; confessed Becky, a little alarmed again.
+&ldquo;I knowed I hadn&rsquo;t orter, but it was that beautiful I&mdash;I
+couldn&rsquo;t help it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I liked you to listen to it,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;If you tell
+stories, you like nothing so much as to tell them to people
+who want to listen. I don&rsquo;t know why it is. Would you
+like to hear the rest?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky lost her breath again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Me hear it?&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Like as if I was a pupil,
+miss! All about the Prince&mdash;and the little white Merbabies
+swimming about laughing&mdash;with stars in their
+hair?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t time to hear it now, I&rsquo;m afraid,&rdquo; she said;
+&ldquo;but if you will tell me just what time you come to do my
+rooms, I will try to be here and tell you a bit of it every day
+until it is finished. It&rsquo;s a lovely long one&mdash;and I&rsquo;m always
+putting new bits to it.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; breathed Becky, devoutly, &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t mind
+<em>how</em> heavy the coal-boxes was&mdash;or <em>what</em> the cook done to
+me, if&mdash;if I might have that to think of.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell it <em>all</em> to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Becky went down-stairs, she was not the same
+Becky who had staggered up, loaded down by the weight
+of the coal-scuttle. She had an extra piece of cake in her
+pocket, and she had been fed and warmed, but not only by
+cake and fire. Something else had warmed and fed her,
+and the something else was Sara.</p>
+
+<p>When she was gone Sara sat on her favorite perch on
+the end of her table. Her feet were on a chair, her elbows
+on her knees, and her chin in her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I <em>was</em> a princess&mdash;a <em>real</em> princess,&rdquo; she murmured,
+&ldquo;I could scatter largess to the populace. But even if I
+am only a pretend princess, I can invent little things to do
+for people. Things like this. She was just as happy as
+if it was largess. I&rsquo;ll pretend that to do things people like
+is scattering largess. I&rsquo;ve scattered largess.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VI<br />
+
+<small>THE DIAMOND-MINES</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Not</span> very long after this a very exciting thing happened.
+Not only Sara, but the entire school,
+found it exciting, and made it the chief subject
+of conversation for weeks after it occurred. In one of his
+letters Captain Crewe told a most interesting story. A
+friend who had been at school with him when he was a boy
+had unexpectedly come to see him in India. He was the
+owner of a large tract of land upon which diamonds had
+been found, and he was engaged in developing the mines.
+If all went as was confidently expected, he would become
+possessed of such wealth as it made one dizzy to think of;
+and because he was fond of the friend of his school-days,
+he had given him an opportunity to share in this enormous
+fortune by becoming a partner in his scheme. This, at
+least, was what Sara gathered from his letters. It is true
+that any other business scheme, however magnificent, would
+have had but small attraction for her or for the school-room;
+but &ldquo;diamond-mines&rdquo; sounded so like the &ldquo;Arabian
+Nights&rdquo; that no one could be indifferent. Sara thought
+them enchanting, and painted pictures, for Ermengarde
+and Lottie, of labyrinthine passages in the bowels of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+earth, where sparkling stones studded the walls and roofs
+and ceilings, and strange, dark men dug them out with
+heavy picks. Ermengarde delighted in the story, and
+Lottie insisted on its being retold to her every evening.
+Lavinia was very spiteful about it, and told Jessie
+that she didn&rsquo;t believe such things as diamond-mines
+existed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My mamma has a diamond ring which cost forty
+pounds,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And it is not a big one, either. If
+there were mines full of diamonds, people would be so rich
+it would be ridiculous.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps Sara will be so rich that she will be ridiculous,&rdquo;
+giggled Jessie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s ridiculous without being rich,&rdquo; Lavinia sniffed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe you hate her,&rdquo; said Jessie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; snapped Lavinia. &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t believe
+in mines full of diamonds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, people have to get them from somewhere,&rdquo; said
+Jessie. &ldquo;Lavinia,&rdquo;&mdash;with a new giggle,&mdash;&ldquo;what do you
+think Gertrude says?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, I&rsquo;m sure; and I don&rsquo;t care if it&rsquo;s something
+more about that everlasting Sara.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is. One of her &lsquo;pretends&rsquo; is that she is a
+princess. She plays it all the time&mdash;even in school. She
+says it makes her learn her lessons better. She wants Ermengarde
+to be one, too, but Ermengarde says she is too
+fat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She <em>is</em> too fat,&rdquo; said Lavinia. &ldquo;And Sara is too thin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Naturally, Jessie giggled again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She says it has nothing to do with what you look like,
+or what you have. It has only to do with what you <em>think</em>
+of, and what you <em>do</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose she thinks she could be a princess if she was
+a beggar,&rdquo; said Lavinia. &ldquo;Let us begin to call her Your
+Royal Highness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lessons for the day were over, and they were sitting
+before the school-room fire, enjoying the time they liked
+best. It was the time when Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia
+were taking their tea in the sitting-room sacred to themselves.
+At this hour a great deal of talking was done, and
+a great many secrets changed hands, particularly if the
+younger pupils behaved themselves well, and did not
+squabble or run about noisily, which it must be confessed
+they usually did. When they made an uproar the older
+girls usually interfered with scoldings and shakes. They
+were expected to keep order, and there was danger that
+if they did not, Miss Minchin or Miss Amelia would
+appear and put an end to festivities. Even as Lavinia
+spoke the door opened and Sara entered with Lottie,
+whose habit was to trot everywhere after her like a little
+dog.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There she is, with that horrid child!&rdquo; exclaimed Lavinia,
+in a whisper. &ldquo;If she&rsquo;s so fond of her, why doesn&rsquo;t
+she keep her in her own room? She will begin howling
+about something in five minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It happened that Lottie had been seized with a sudden
+desire to play in the school-room, and had begged her
+adopted parent to come with her. She joined a group of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+little ones who were playing in a corner. Sara curled herself
+up in the window-seat, opened a book, and began to
+read. It was a book about the French Revolution, and
+she was soon lost in a harrowing picture of the prisoners
+in the Bastille&mdash;men who had spent so many years in
+dungeons that when they were dragged out by those
+who rescued them, their long, gray hair and beards
+almost hid their faces, and they had forgotten that an
+outside world existed at all, and were like beings in a
+dream.</p>
+
+<p>She was so far away from the school-room that it was
+not agreeable to be dragged back suddenly by a howl
+from Lottie. Never did she find anything so difficult as
+to keep herself from losing her temper when she was suddenly
+disturbed while absorbed in a book. People who
+are fond of books know the feeling of irritation which
+sweeps over them at such a moment. The temptation
+to be unreasonable and snappish is one not easy to
+manage.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It makes me feel as if some one had hit me,&rdquo; Sara had
+told Ermengarde once in confidence. &ldquo;And as if I want
+to hit back. I have to remember things quickly to keep
+from saying something ill-tempered.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had to remember things quickly when she laid her
+book on the window-seat and jumped down from her
+comfortable corner.</p>
+
+<p>Lottie had been sliding across the school-room floor, and,
+having first irritated Lavinia and Jessie by making a noise,
+had ended by falling down and hurting her fat knee. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+was screaming and dancing up and down in the midst of a
+group of friends and enemies, who were alternately coaxing
+and scolding her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stop this minute, you cry-baby! Stop this minute!&rdquo;
+Lavinia commanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a cry-baby&mdash;I&rsquo;m not!&rdquo; wailed Lottie. &ldquo;Sara,
+Sa&mdash;ra!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she doesn&rsquo;t stop, Miss Minchin will hear her,&rdquo; cried
+Jessie. &ldquo;Lottie darling, I&rsquo;ll give you a penny!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want your penny,&rdquo; sobbed Lottie; and she
+looked down at the fat knee, and, seeing a drop of blood on
+it, burst forth again.</p>
+
+<p>Sara flew across the room and, kneeling down, put her
+arms round her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Lottie,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Now, Lottie, you <em>promised</em>
+Sara.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She said I was a cry-baby,&rdquo; wept Lottie.</p>
+
+<p>Sara patted her, but spoke in the steady voice Lottie
+knew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But if you cry, you will be one, Lottie pet. You <em>promised</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lottie remembered that she had promised, but she preferred
+to lift up her voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t any mamma,&rdquo; she proclaimed. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t&mdash;a
+bit&mdash;of mamma.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you have,&rdquo; said Sara, cheerfully. &ldquo;Have you forgotten?
+Don&rsquo;t you know that Sara is your mamma?
+Don&rsquo;t you want Sara for your mamma?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lottie cuddled up to her with a consoled sniff.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come and sit in the window-seat with me,&rdquo; Sara went
+on, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll whisper a story to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you?&rdquo; whimpered Lottie. &ldquo;Will you&mdash;tell me&mdash;about
+the diamond-mines?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The diamond-mines?&rdquo; broke out Lavinia. &ldquo;Nasty,
+little spoiled thing, I should like to <em>slap</em> her!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara got up quickly on her feet. It must be remembered
+that she had been very deeply absorbed in the book about
+the Bastille, and she had had to recall several things rapidly
+when she realized that she must go and take care of her
+adopted child. She was not an angel, and she was not fond
+of Lavinia.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, with some fire, &ldquo;I should like to slap
+<em>you</em>,&mdash;but I don&rsquo;t want to slap you!&rdquo; restraining herself.
+&ldquo;At least I both want to slap you&mdash;and I should <em>like</em> to
+slap you,&mdash;but I <em>won&rsquo;t</em> slap you. We are not little gutter
+children. We are both old enough to know better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here was Lavinia&rsquo;s opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, yes, your royal highness,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We are
+princesses, I believe. At least one of us is. The school
+ought to be very fashionable now Miss Minchin has a
+princess for a pupil.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara started toward her. She looked as if she were going
+to box her ears. Perhaps she was. Her trick of pretending
+things was the joy of her life. She never spoke of it
+to girls she was not fond of. Her new &ldquo;pretend&rdquo; about
+being a princess was very near to her heart, and she was
+shy and sensitive about it. She had meant it to be rather a
+secret, and here was Lavinia deriding it before nearly all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+the school. She felt the blood rush up into her face and
+tingle in her ears. She only just saved herself. If you
+were a princess, you did not fly into rages. Her hand
+dropped, and she stood quite still a moment. When she
+spoke it was in a quiet, steady voice; she held her head up,
+and everybody listened to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s true,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Sometimes I do pretend I am a
+princess. I pretend I am a princess, so that I can try and
+behave like one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lavinia could not think of exactly the right thing to say.
+Several times she had found that she could not think of a
+satisfactory reply when she was dealing with Sara. The
+reason of this was that, somehow, the rest always seemed to
+be vaguely in sympathy with her opponent. She saw now
+that they were pricking up their ears interestedly. The
+truth was, they liked princesses, and they all hoped they
+might hear something more definite about this one, and
+drew nearer Sara accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>Lavinia could only invent one remark, and it fell rather
+flat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I hope, when you ascend the
+throne, you won&rsquo;t forget us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Sara, and she did not utter another word,
+but stood quite still, and stared at her steadily as she saw
+her take Jessie&rsquo;s arm and turn away.</p>
+
+<p>After this, the girls who were jealous of her used to
+speak of her as &ldquo;Princess Sara&rdquo; whenever they wished to
+be particularly disdainful, and those who were fond of her
+gave her the name among themselves as a term of affection.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+No one called her &ldquo;princess&rdquo; instead of &ldquo;Sara,&rdquo; but
+her adorers were much pleased with the picturesqueness
+and grandeur of the title, and Miss Minchin, hearing of it,
+mentioned it more than once to visiting parents, feeling
+that it rather suggested a sort of royal boarding-school.</p>
+
+<p>To Becky it seemed the most appropriate thing in the
+world. The acquaintance begun on the foggy afternoon
+when she had jumped up terrified from her sleep in the
+comfortable chair, had ripened and grown, though it must
+be confessed that Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia knew
+very little about it. They were aware that Sara was
+&ldquo;kind&rdquo; to the scullery-maid, but they knew nothing of
+certain delightful moments snatched perilously when, the
+up-stairs rooms being set in order with lightning rapidity,
+Sara&rsquo;s sitting-room was reached, and the heavy coal-box
+set down with a sigh of joy. At such times stories were
+told by instalments, things of a satisfying nature were
+either produced and eaten or hastily tucked into pockets to
+be disposed of at night, when Becky went up-stairs to her
+attic to bed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I has to eat &rsquo;em careful, miss,&rdquo; she said once; &ldquo;&rsquo;cos
+if I leaves crumbs the rats come out to get &rsquo;em.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rats!&rdquo; exclaimed Sara, in horror. &ldquo;Are there <em>rats</em>
+there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lots of &rsquo;em, miss,&rdquo; Becky answered in quite a matter-of-fact
+manner. &ldquo;There mostly is rats an&rsquo; mice in attics.
+You gets used to the noise they makes scuttling about.
+I&rsquo;ve got so I don&rsquo;t mind &rsquo;em s&rsquo; long as they don&rsquo;t run over
+my piller.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ugh!&rdquo; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You gets used to anythin&rsquo; after a bit,&rdquo; said Becky.
+&ldquo;You have to, miss, if you&rsquo;re born a scullery-maid. I&rsquo;d
+rather have rats than cockroaches.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So would I,&rdquo; said Sara; &ldquo;I suppose you might make
+friends with a rat in time, but I don&rsquo;t believe I should like
+to make friends with a cockroach.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes Becky did not dare to spend more than a few
+minutes in the bright, warm room, and when this was the
+case perhaps only a few words could be exchanged, and a
+small purchase slipped into the old-fashioned pocket Becky
+carried under her dress skirt, tied round her waist with a
+band of tape. The search for and discovery of satisfying
+things to eat which could be packed into small compass,
+added a new interest to Sara&rsquo;s existence. When she drove
+or walked out, she used to look into shop windows eagerly.
+The first time it occurred to her to bring home two or three
+little meat-pies, she felt that she had hit upon a discovery.
+When she exhibited them, Becky&rsquo;s eyes quite sparkled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, miss!&rdquo; she murmured. &ldquo;Them will be nice an&rsquo;
+fillin&rsquo;. It&rsquo;s fillin&rsquo;ness that&rsquo;s best. Sponge-cake&rsquo;s a
+&rsquo;evingly thing, but it melts away like&mdash;if you understand,
+miss. These&rsquo;ll just <em>stay</em> in yer stummick.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; hesitated Sara, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think it would be good
+if they stayed always, but I do believe they will be satisfying.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They were satisfying,&mdash;and so were beef sandwiches,
+bought at a cook-shop,&mdash;and so were rolls and Bologna
+sausage. In time, Becky began to lose her hungry, tired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+feeling, and the coal-box did not seem so unbearably
+heavy.</p>
+
+<p>However heavy it was, and whatsoever the temper of the
+cook, and the hardness of the work heaped upon her shoulders,
+she had always the chance of the afternoon to look
+forward to&mdash;the chance that Miss Sara would be able to be
+in her sitting-room. In fact, the mere seeing of Miss Sara
+would have been enough without meat-pies. If there was
+time only for a few words, they were always friendly,
+merry words that put heart into one; and if there was time
+for more, then there was an instalment of a story to be told,
+or some other thing one remembered afterward and sometimes
+lay awake in one&rsquo;s bed in the attic to think over.
+Sara&mdash;who was only doing what she unconsciously liked
+better than anything else, Nature having made her for a
+giver&mdash;had not the least idea what she meant to poor
+Becky, and how wonderful a benefactor she seemed. If
+Nature has made you for a giver, your hands are born
+open, and so is your heart; and though there may be
+times when your hands are empty, your heart is always
+full, and you can give things out of that&mdash;warm things,
+kind things, sweet things,&mdash;help and comfort and laughter,&mdash;and
+sometimes gay, kind laughter is the best help of all.</p>
+
+<p>Becky had scarcely known what laughter was through
+all her poor, little hard-driven life. Sara made her laugh,
+and laughed with her; and, though neither of them
+quite knew it, the laughter was as &ldquo;fillin&rsquo;&rdquo; as the meat-pies.</p>
+
+<p>A few weeks before Sara&rsquo;s eleventh birthday a letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+came to her from her father, which did not seem to be written
+in such boyish high spirits as usual. He was not very
+well, and was evidently overweighted by the business connected
+with the diamond-mines.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see, little Sara,&rdquo; he wrote, &ldquo;your daddy is not a
+business man at all, and figures and documents bother him.
+He does not really understand them, and all this seems so
+enormous. Perhaps, if I was not feverish I should not be
+awake, tossing about, one half of the night and spend the
+other half in troublesome dreams. If my little missus were
+here, I dare say she would give me some solemn, good
+advice. You would, wouldn&rsquo;t you, little missus?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One of his many jokes had been to call her his &ldquo;little
+missus&rdquo; because she had such an old-fashioned air.</p>
+
+<p>He had made wonderful preparations for her birthday.
+Among other things, a new doll had been ordered in Paris,
+and her wardrobe was to be, indeed, a marvel of splendid
+perfection. When she had replied to the letter asking her
+if the doll would be an acceptable present, Sara had been
+very quaint.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am getting very old,&rdquo; she wrote; &ldquo;you see, I shall
+never live to have another doll given me. This will be my
+last doll. There is something solemn about it. If I could
+write poetry, I am sure a poem about &lsquo;A Last Doll&rsquo; would
+be very nice. But I cannot write poetry. I have tried, and
+it made me laugh. It did not sound like Watts or Coleridge
+or Shakespeare at all. No one could ever take
+Emily&rsquo;s place, but I should respect the Last Doll very
+much; and I am sure the school would love it. They all like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+dolls, though some of the big ones&mdash;the almost fifteen ones&mdash;pretend
+they are too grown up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Crewe had a splitting headache when he read
+this letter in his bungalow in India. The table before him
+was heaped with papers and letters which were alarming
+him and filling him with anxious dread, but he laughed as
+he had not laughed for weeks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;she&rsquo;s better fun every year she lives.
+God grant this business may right itself and leave me free
+to run home and see her. What wouldn&rsquo;t I give to have
+her little arms round my neck this minute! What <em>wouldn&rsquo;t</em>
+I give!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The birthday was to be celebrated by great festivities.
+The school-room was to be decorated, and there was to be a
+party. The boxes containing the presents were to be
+opened with great ceremony, and there was to be a glittering
+feast spread in Miss Minchin&rsquo;s sacred room. When
+the day arrived the whole house was in a whirl of excitement.
+How the morning passed nobody quite knew, because
+there seemed such preparations to be made. The
+school-room was being decked with garlands of holly; the
+desks had been moved away, and red covers had been put
+on the forms which were arrayed round the room against
+the wall.</p>
+
+<p>When Sara went into her sitting-room in the morning,
+she found on the table a small, dumpy package, tied up
+in a piece of brown paper. She knew it was a present, and
+she thought she could guess whom it came from. She
+opened it quite tenderly. It was a square pincushion, made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+of not quite clean red flannel, and black pins had been stuck
+carefully into it to form the words, &ldquo;Menny hapy returns.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Sara, with a warm feeling in her heart.
+&ldquo;What pains she has taken! I like it so, it&mdash;it makes me
+feel sorrowful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the next moment she was mystified. On the under
+side of the pincushion was secured a card, bearing in neat
+letters the name &ldquo;Miss Amelia Minchin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara turned it over and over.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Amelia!&rdquo; she said to herself. &ldquo;How <em>can</em> it be!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And just at that very moment she heard the door being
+cautiously pushed open and saw Becky peeping round it.</p>
+
+<p>There was an affectionate, happy grin on her face, and
+she shuffled forward and stood nervously pulling at her
+fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do yer like it, Miss Sara?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Do yer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Like it?&rdquo; cried Sara. &ldquo;You darling Becky, you made
+it all yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky gave a hysteric but joyful sniff, and her eyes
+looked quite moist with delight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t nothin&rsquo; but flannin, an&rsquo; the flannin ain&rsquo;t new;
+but I wanted to give yer somethin&rsquo; an&rsquo; I made it of nights.
+I knew yer could <em>pretend</em> it was satin with diamond pins
+in. <em>I</em> tried to when I was makin&rsquo; it. The card, miss,&rdquo;
+rather doubtfully; &ldquo;&rsquo;t warn&rsquo;t wrong of me to pick it up out
+o&rsquo; the dust-bin, was it? Miss &rsquo;Meliar had throwed it away.
+I hadn&rsquo;t no card o&rsquo; my own, an&rsquo; I knowed it wouldn&rsquo;t be
+a proper presink if I didn&rsquo;t pin a card on&mdash;so I pinned
+Miss &rsquo;Meliar&rsquo;s.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sara flew at her and hugged her. She could not have
+told herself or any one else why there was a lump in her
+throat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Becky!&rdquo; she cried out, with a queer little laugh.
+&ldquo;I love you, Becky,&mdash;I do, I do!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, miss!&rdquo; breathed Becky. &ldquo;Thank yer, miss, kindly;
+It ain&rsquo;t good enough for that. The&mdash;the flannin wasn&rsquo;t
+new.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VII<br />
+
+<small>THE DIAMOND-MINES AGAIN</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">When</span> Sara entered the holly-hung school-room
+in the afternoon, she did so as the head of a
+sort of procession. Miss Minchin, in her
+grandest silk dress, led her by the hand. A man-servant
+followed, carrying the box containing the Last Doll, a
+housemaid carried a second box, and Becky brought up the
+rear, carrying a third and wearing a clean apron and a new
+cap. Sara would have much preferred to enter in the usual
+way, but Miss Minchin had sent for her, and, after an interview
+in her private sitting-room, had expressed her
+wishes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is not an ordinary occasion,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I do not
+desire that it should be treated as one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Sara was led grandly in and felt shy when, on
+her entry, the big girls stared at her and touched each
+other&rsquo;s elbows, and the little ones began to squirm joyously
+in their seats.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Silence, young ladies!&rdquo; said Miss Minchin, at the murmur
+which arose. &ldquo;James, place the box on the table and
+remove the lid. Emma, put yours upon a chair. Becky!&rdquo;
+suddenly and severely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Becky had quite forgotten herself in her excitement, and
+was grinning at Lottie, who was wriggling with rapturous
+expectation. She almost dropped her box, the disapproving
+voice so startled her, and her frightened, bobbing courtesy
+of apology was so funny that Lavinia and Jessie
+tittered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not your place to look at the young ladies,&rdquo; said
+Miss Minchin. &ldquo;You forget yourself. Put your box
+down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky obeyed with alarmed haste and hastily backed toward
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may leave us,&rdquo; Miss Minchin announced to the
+servants with a wave of her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Becky stepped aside respectfully to allow the superior
+servants to pass out first. She could not help casting a longing
+glance at the box on the table. Something made of
+blue satin was peeping from between the folds of tissue-paper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you please, Miss Minchin,&rdquo; said Sara, suddenly,
+&ldquo;mayn&rsquo;t Becky stay?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a bold thing to do. Miss Minchin was betrayed
+into something like a slight jump. Then she put her eye-glass
+up, and gazed at her show pupil disturbedly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Becky!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;My dearest Sara!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara advanced a step toward her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want her because I know she will like to see the presents,&rdquo;
+she explained. &ldquo;She is a little girl, too, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin was scandalized. She glanced from one
+figure to the other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Sara,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;Becky is the scullery-maid.
+Scullery-maids&mdash;er&mdash;are not little girls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It really had not occurred to her to think of them in that
+light. Scullery-maids were machines who carried coal-scuttles
+and made fires.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Becky is,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;And I know she would
+enjoy herself. Please let her stay&mdash;because it is my birthday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin replied with much dignity:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you ask it as a birthday favor&mdash;she may stay. Rebecca,
+thank Miss Sara for her great kindness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky had been backing into the corner, twisting the
+hem of her apron in delighted suspense. She came forward,
+bobbing courtesies, but between Sara&rsquo;s eyes and her
+own there passed a gleam of friendly understanding, while
+her words tumbled over each other.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if you please, miss! I&rsquo;m that grateful, miss! I
+did want to see the doll, miss, that I did. Thank you,
+miss. And thank you, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo;&mdash;turning and making an
+alarmed bob to Miss Minchin,&mdash;&ldquo;for letting me take the
+liberty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin waved her hand again&mdash;this time it was
+in the direction of the corner near the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go and stand there,&rdquo; she commanded. &ldquo;Not too near
+the young ladies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky went to her place, grinning. She did not care
+where she was sent, so that she might have the luck of
+being inside the room, instead of being down-stairs in the
+scullery, while these delights were going on. She did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+even mind when Miss Minchin cleared her throat ominously
+and spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, young ladies, I have a few words to say to you,&rdquo;
+she announced.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s going to make a speech,&rdquo; whispered one of the
+girls. &ldquo;I wish it was over.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara felt rather uncomfortable. As this was her party,
+it was probable that the speech was about her. It is not
+agreeable to stand in a school-room and have a speech made
+about you.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are aware, young ladies,&rdquo; the speech began,&mdash;for
+it was a speech,&mdash;&ldquo;that dear Sara is eleven years old to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Dear</em> Sara!&rdquo; murmured Lavinia.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Several of you here have also been eleven years old, but
+Sara&rsquo;s birthdays are rather different from other little girls&rsquo;
+birthdays. When she is older she will be heiress to a large
+fortune, which it will be her duty to spend in a meritorious
+manner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The diamond-mines,&rdquo; giggled Jessie, in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Sara did not hear her; but as she stood with her green-gray
+eyes fixed steadily on Miss Minchin, she felt herself
+growing rather hot. When Miss Minchin talked about
+money, she felt somehow that she always hated her&mdash;and,
+of course, it was disrespectful to hate grown-up people.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When her dear papa, Captain Crewe, brought her
+from India and gave her into my care,&rdquo; the speech proceeded,
+&ldquo;he said to me, in a jesting way, &lsquo;I am afraid
+she will be very rich, Miss Minchin.&rsquo; My reply was, &lsquo;Her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+education at my seminary, Captain Crewe, shall be such as
+will adorn the largest fortune.&rsquo; Sara has become my most
+accomplished pupil. Her French and her dancing are a
+credit to the seminary. Her manners&mdash;which have caused
+you to call her Princess Sara&mdash;are perfect. Her amiability
+she exhibits by giving you this afternoon&rsquo;s party. I hope
+you appreciate her generosity. I wish you to express your
+appreciation of it by saying aloud all together, &lsquo;Thank
+you, Sara!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The entire school-room rose to its feet as it had done the
+morning Sara remembered so well.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Sara!&rdquo; it said, and it must be confessed that
+Lottie jumped up and down. Sara looked rather shy for a
+moment. She made a courtesy&mdash;and it was a very nice one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;for coming to my party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very pretty, indeed, Sara,&rdquo; approved Miss Minchin.
+&ldquo;That is what a real princess does when the populace applauds
+her. Lavinia,&rdquo;&mdash;scathingly,&mdash;&ldquo;the sound you just
+made was extremely like a snort. If you are jealous of
+your fellow-pupil, I beg you will express your feelings in
+some more ladylike manner. Now I will leave you to enjoy
+yourselves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The instant she had swept out of the room the spell
+her presence always had upon them was broken. The
+door had scarcely closed before every seat was empty. The
+little girls jumped or tumbled out of theirs; the older ones
+wasted no time in deserting theirs. There was a rush toward
+the boxes. Sara had bent over one of them with a
+delighted face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These are books, I know,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>The little children broke into a rueful murmur, and
+Ermengarde looked aghast.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does your papa send you books for a birthday present?&rdquo;
+she exclaimed. &ldquo;Why, he&rsquo;s as bad as mine. Don&rsquo;t
+open them, Sara.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like them,&rdquo; Sara laughed, but she turned to the biggest
+box. When she took out the Last Doll it was so
+magnificent that the children uttered delighted groans of
+joy, and actually drew back to gaze at it in breathless
+rapture.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is almost as big as Lottie,&rdquo; some one gasped.</p>
+
+<p>Lottie clapped her hands and danced about, giggling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s dressed for the theatre,&rdquo; said Lavinia. &ldquo;Her
+cloak is lined with ermine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Ermengarde, darting forward, &ldquo;she has
+an opera-glass in her hand&mdash;a blue-and-gold one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here is her trunk,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;Let us open it and
+look at her things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="illus092" id="illus092"></a>
+<img src="images/illus092.jpg" width="400" height="542" alt="The children crowded clamoring around her." title="" />
+<br /><span class="caption">The children crowded clamoring around her.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>She sat down upon the floor and turned the key. The
+children crowded clamoring around her, as she lifted tray
+after tray and revealed their contents. Never had the
+school-room been in such an uproar. There were lace collars
+and silk stockings and handkerchiefs; there was a
+jewel-case containing a necklace and a tiara which looked
+quite as if they were made of real diamonds; there was a
+long sealskin and muff; there were ball dresses and walking
+dresses and visiting dresses; there were hats and tea-gowns
+and fans. Even Lavinia and Jessie forgot that they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+too elderly to care for dolls, and uttered exclamations of
+delight and caught up things to look at them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose,&rdquo; Sara said, as she stood by the table, putting
+a large, black-velvet hat on the impassively smiling owner
+of all these splendors&mdash;&ldquo;suppose she understands human
+talk and feels proud of being admired.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are always supposing things,&rdquo; said Lavinia, and
+her air was very superior.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know I am,&rdquo; answered Sara, undisturbedly. &ldquo;I like
+it. There is nothing so nice as supposing. It&rsquo;s almost like
+being a fairy. If you suppose anything hard enough it
+seems as if it were real.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all very well to suppose things if you have everything,&rdquo;
+said Lavinia. &ldquo;Could you suppose and pretend if
+you were a beggar and lived in a garret?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stopped arranging the Last Doll&rsquo;s ostrich plumes,
+and looked thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <em>believe</em> I could,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;If one was a beggar, one
+would have to suppose and pretend all the time. But it
+mightn&rsquo;t be easy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She often thought afterward how strange it was that
+just as she had finished saying this&mdash;just at that very moment&mdash;Miss
+Amelia came into the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;your papa&rsquo;s solicitor, Mr. Barrow,
+has called to see Miss Minchin, and, as she must talk to him
+alone and the refreshments are laid in her parlor, you had
+all better come and have your feast now, so that my sister
+can have her interview here in the school-room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Refreshments were not likely to be disdained at any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+hour, and many pairs of eyes gleamed. Miss Amelia arranged
+the procession into decorum, and then, with Sara
+at her side heading it, she led it away, leaving the Last Doll
+sitting upon a chair with the glories of her wardrobe
+scattered about her; dresses and coats hung upon chair
+backs, piles of lace-frilled petticoats lying upon their
+seats.</p>
+
+<p>Becky, who was not expected to partake of refreshments,
+had the indiscretion to linger a moment to look at
+these beauties&mdash;it really was an indiscretion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go back to your work, Becky,&rdquo; Miss Amelia had said;
+but she had stopped to reverently pick up first a muff and
+then a coat, and while she stood looking at them adoringly,
+she heard Miss Minchin upon the threshold, and, being
+smitten with terror at the thought of being accused of taking
+liberties, she rashly darted under the table, which hid
+her by its table-cloth.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin came into the room, accompanied by a
+sharp-featured, dry little gentleman, who looked rather disturbed.
+Miss Minchin herself also looked rather disturbed,
+it must be admitted, and she gazed at the dry little gentleman
+with an irritated and puzzled expression.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down with stiff dignity, and waved him to a
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray, be seated, Mr. Barrow,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Barrow did not sit down at once. His attention
+seemed attracted by the Last Doll and the things which
+surrounded her. He settled his eye-glasses and looked at
+them in nervous disapproval. The Last Doll herself did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+not seem to mind this in the least. She merely sat upright
+and returned his gaze indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A hundred pounds,&rdquo; Mr. Barrow remarked succinctly.
+&ldquo;All expensive material, and made at a Parisian modiste&rsquo;s.
+He spent money lavishly enough, that young man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin felt offended. This seemed to be a disparagement
+of her best patron and was a liberty.</p>
+
+<p>Even solicitors had no right to take liberties.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, Mr. Barrow,&rdquo; she said stiffly. &ldquo;I
+do not understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Birthday presents,&rdquo; said Mr. Barrow in the same critical
+manner, &ldquo;to a child eleven years old! Mad extravagance,
+I call it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin drew herself up still more rigidly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Crewe is a man of fortune,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The
+diamond-mines alone&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Barrow wheeled round upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Diamond-mines!&rdquo; he broke out. &ldquo;There are none!
+Never were!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin actually got up from her chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At any rate,&rdquo; answered Mr. Barrow, quite snappishly,
+&ldquo;it would have been much better if there never had been
+any.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Any diamond-mines?&rdquo; ejaculated Miss Minchin,
+catching at the back of a chair and feeling as if a splendid
+dream was fading away from her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Diamond-mines spell ruin oftener than they spell
+wealth,&rdquo; said Mr. Barrow. &ldquo;When a man is in the hands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+of a very dear friend and is not a business man himself, he
+had better steer clear of the dear friend&rsquo;s diamond-mines,
+or gold-mines, or any other kind of mines dear friends want
+his money to put into. The late Captain Crewe&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here Miss Minchin stopped him with a gasp.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The <em>late</em> Captain Crewe!&rdquo; she cried out; &ldquo;the <em>late!</em>
+You don&rsquo;t come to tell me that Captain Crewe is&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s dead, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; Mr. Barrow answered with jerky
+brusqueness. &ldquo;Died of jungle fever and business troubles
+combined. The jungle fever might not have killed him if
+he had not been driven mad by the business troubles, and
+the business troubles might not have put an end to him if
+the jungle fever had not assisted. Captain Crewe is
+dead!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin dropped into her chair again. The words
+he had spoken filled her with alarm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What <em>were</em> his business troubles?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;What
+<em>were</em> they?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Diamond-mines,&rdquo; answered Mr. Barrow, &ldquo;and dear
+friends&mdash;and ruin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin lost her breath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ruin!&rdquo; she gasped out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lost every penny. That young man had too much
+money. The dear friend was mad on the subject of the
+diamond-mine. He put all his own money into it, and all
+Captain Crewe&rsquo;s. Then the dear friend ran away&mdash;Captain
+Crewe was already stricken with fever when the news
+came. The shock was too much for him. He died delirious,
+raving about his little girl&mdash;and didn&rsquo;t leave a penny.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Now Miss Minchin understood, and never had she received
+such a blow in her life. Her show pupil, her show
+patron, swept away from the Select Seminary at one blow.
+She felt as if she had been outraged and robbed, and that
+Captain Crewe and Sara and Mr. Barrow were equally to
+blame.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean to tell me,&rdquo; she cried out, &ldquo;that he left
+<em>nothing!</em> That Sara will have no fortune! That the child
+is a beggar! That she is left on my hands a little pauper
+instead of an heiress?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Barrow was a shrewd business man, and felt it as
+well to make his own freedom from responsibility quite
+clear without any delay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is certainly left a beggar,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;And she
+is certainly left on your hands, ma&rsquo;am,&mdash;as she hasn&rsquo;t a
+relation in the world that we know of.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin started forward. She looked as if she was
+going to open the door and rush out of the room to stop
+the festivities going on joyfully and rather noisily that
+moment over the refreshments.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is monstrous!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s in my sitting-room
+at this moment, dressed in silk gauze and lace petticoats,
+giving a party at my expense.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s giving it at your expense, madam, if she&rsquo;s giving
+it,&rdquo; said Mr. Barrow, calmly. &ldquo;Barrow &amp; Skipworth
+are not responsible for anything. There never was a
+cleaner sweep made of a man&rsquo;s fortune. Captain Crewe
+died without paying <em>our</em> last bill&mdash;and it was a big one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin turned back from the door in increased indignation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+This was worse than any one could have
+dreamed of its being.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is what has happened to me!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I was
+always so sure of his payments that I went to all sorts of
+ridiculous expenses for the child. I paid the bills for that
+ridiculous doll and her ridiculous fantastic wardrobe. The
+child was to have anything she wanted. She has a carriage
+and a pony and a maid, and I&rsquo;ve paid for all of them since
+the last cheque came.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Barrow evidently did not intend to remain to listen
+to the story of Miss Minchin&rsquo;s grievances after he had
+made the position of his firm clear and related the mere
+dry facts. He did not feel any particular sympathy for
+irate keepers of boarding-schools.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You had better not pay for anything more, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo;
+he remarked, &ldquo;unless you want to make presents to the
+young lady. No one will remember you. She hasn&rsquo;t a
+brass farthing to call her own.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what am I to do?&rdquo; demanded Miss Minchin, as
+if she felt it entirely his duty to make the matter right.
+&ldquo;What am I to do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t anything to do,&rdquo; said Mr. Barrow, folding
+up his eye-glasses and slipping them into his pocket.
+&ldquo;Captain Crewe is dead. The child is left a pauper. Nobody
+is responsible for her but you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not responsible for her, and I refuse to be made
+responsible!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin became quite white with rage.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Barrow turned to go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have nothing to do with that, madam,&rdquo; he said uninterestedly.
+&ldquo;Barrow &amp; Skipworth are not responsible.
+Very sorry the thing has happened, of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you think she is to be foisted off on me, you are
+greatly mistaken,&rdquo; Miss Minchin gasped. &ldquo;I have been
+robbed and cheated; I will turn her into the street!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If she had not been so furious, she would have been too
+discreet to say quite so much. She saw herself burdened
+with an extravagantly brought-up child whom she had always
+resented, and she lost all self-control.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Barrow undisturbedly moved toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t do that, madam,&rdquo; he commented; &ldquo;it
+wouldn&rsquo;t look well. Unpleasant story to get about in connection
+with the establishment. Pupil bundled out penniless
+and without friends.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was a clever business man, and he knew what he was
+saying. He also knew that Miss Minchin was a business
+woman, and would be shrewd enough to see the truth. She
+could not afford to do a thing which would make people
+speak of her as cruel and hard-hearted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Better keep her and make use of her,&rdquo; he added.
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s a clever child, I believe. You can get a good deal
+out of her as she grows older.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will get a good deal out of her before she grows
+older!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Minchin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure you will, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; said Mr. Barrow, with a
+little sinister smile. &ldquo;I am sure you will. Good morning!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He bowed himself out and closed the door, and it must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+be confessed that Miss Minchin stood for a few moments
+and glared at it. What he had said was quite true. She
+knew it. She had absolutely no redress. Her show pupil
+had melted into nothingness, leaving only a friendless, beggared
+little girl. Such money as she herself had advanced
+was lost and could not be regained.</p>
+
+<p>And as she stood there breathless under her sense of
+injury, there fell upon her ears a burst of gay voices from
+her own sacred room, which had actually been given up to
+the feast. She could at least stop this.</p>
+
+<p>But as she started toward the door it was opened by
+Miss Amelia, who, when she caught sight of the changed,
+angry face, fell back a step in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What <em>is</em> the matter, sister?&rdquo; she ejaculated.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin&rsquo;s voice was almost fierce when she answered:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Sara Crewe?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Amelia was bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara!&rdquo; she stammered. &ldquo;Why, she&rsquo;s with the children
+in your room, of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Has she a black frock in her sumptuous wardrobe?&rdquo;&mdash;in
+bitter irony.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A black frock?&rdquo; Miss Amelia stammered again. &ldquo;A
+<em>black</em> one?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She has frocks of every other color. Has she a black
+one?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Amelia began to turn pale.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;ye-es!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But it is too short for her.
+She has only the old black velvet, and she has outgrown it.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go and tell her to take off that preposterous pink silk
+gauze, and put the black one on, whether it is too short or
+not. She has done with finery!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Miss Amelia began to wring her fat hands and cry.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, sister!&rdquo; she sniffed. &ldquo;Oh, sister! What <em>can</em> have
+happened?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin wasted no words.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Crewe is dead,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;He has died without
+a penny. That spoiled, pampered, fanciful child is left
+a pauper on my hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Amelia sat down quite heavily in the nearest chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hundreds of pounds have I spent on nonsense for her.
+And I shall never see a penny of it. Put a stop to this
+ridiculous party of hers. Go and make her change her
+frock at once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I?&rdquo; panted Miss Amelia. &ldquo;M-must I go and tell
+her now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This moment!&rdquo; was the fierce answer. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t sit staring
+like a goose. Go!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Miss Amelia was accustomed to being called a
+goose. She knew, in fact, that she was rather a goose, and
+that it was left to geese to do a great many disagreeable
+things. It was a somewhat embarrassing thing to go into
+the midst of a room full of delighted children, and tell the
+giver of the feast that she had suddenly been transformed
+into a little beggar, and must go up-stairs and put on an
+old black frock which was too small for her. But the thing
+must be done. This was evidently not the time when questions
+might be asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She rubbed her eyes with her handkerchief until they
+looked quite red. After which she got up and went out of
+the room, without venturing to say another word. When
+her older sister looked and spoke as she had done just now,
+the wisest course to pursue was to obey orders without any
+comment. Miss Minchin walked across the room. She
+spoke to herself aloud without knowing that she was doing
+it. During the last year the story of the diamond-mines
+had suggested all sorts of possibilities to her. Even proprietors
+of seminaries might make fortunes in stocks, with
+the aid of owners of mines. And now, instead of looking
+forward to gains, she was left to look back upon losses.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Princess Sara, indeed!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The child has
+been pampered as if she were a <em>queen</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was sweeping angrily past the corner table as she
+said it, and the next moment she started at the sound of
+a loud, sobbing sniff which issued from under the cover.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that!&rdquo; she exclaimed angrily. The loud, sobbing
+sniff was heard again, and she stooped and raised the
+hanging folds of the table-cover.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How <em>dare</em> you!&rdquo; she cried out. &ldquo;How <em>dare</em> you!
+Come out immediately!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was poor Becky who crawled out, and her cap was
+knocked on one side, and her face was red with repressed
+crying.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you please, &rsquo;m&mdash;it&rsquo;s me, mum,&rdquo; she explained. &ldquo;I
+know I hadn&rsquo;t ought to. But I was lookin&rsquo; at the doll,
+mum&mdash;an&rsquo; I was frightened when you come in&mdash;an&rsquo;
+slipped under the table.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have been there all the time, listening,&rdquo; said Miss
+Minchin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, mum,&rdquo; Becky protested, bobbing courtesies.
+&ldquo;Not listenin&rsquo;&mdash;I thought I could slip out without your
+noticin&rsquo;, but I couldn&rsquo;t an&rsquo; I had to stay. But I didn&rsquo;t
+listen, mum&mdash;I wouldn&rsquo;t for nothin&rsquo;. But I couldn&rsquo;t help
+hearin&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly it seemed almost as if she lost all fear of the
+awful lady before her. She burst into fresh tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, please, &rsquo;m,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I dare say you&rsquo;ll give me
+warnin&rsquo;, mum,&mdash;but I&rsquo;m so sorry for poor Miss Sara&mdash;I&rsquo;m
+so sorry!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave the room!&rdquo; ordered Miss Minchin.</p>
+
+<p>Becky courtesied again, the tears openly streaming
+down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, &rsquo;m; I will, &rsquo;m,&rdquo; she said, trembling; &ldquo;but oh, I just
+wanted to arst you: Miss Sara&mdash;she&rsquo;s been such a rich
+young lady, an&rsquo; she&rsquo;s been waited on, &rsquo;and and foot; an&rsquo;
+what will she do now, mum, without no maid? If&mdash;if, oh
+please, would you let me wait on her after I&rsquo;ve done my
+pots an&rsquo; kettles? I&rsquo;d do &rsquo;em that quick&mdash;if you&rsquo;d let me
+wait on her now she&rsquo;s poor. Oh,&rdquo;&mdash;breaking out afresh,&mdash;&ldquo;poor
+little Miss Sara, mum&mdash;that was called a princess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Somehow, she made Miss Minchin feel more angry than
+ever. That the very scullery-maid should range herself on
+the side of this child&mdash;whom she realized more fully than
+ever that she had never liked&mdash;was too much. She actually
+stamped her foot.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;certainly not,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;She will wait on herself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+and on other people, too. Leave the room this instant,
+or you&rsquo;ll leave your place.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky threw her apron over her head and fled. She ran
+out of the room and down the steps into the scullery, and
+there she sat down among her pots and kettles, and wept as
+if her heart would break.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s exactly like the ones in the stories,&rdquo; she wailed.
+&ldquo;Them pore princess ones that was drove into the world.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin had never looked quite so still and hard
+as she did when Sara came to her, a few hours later, in response
+to a message she had sent her.</p>
+
+<p class="dot">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</p>
+
+<p>Even by that time it seemed to Sara as if the birthday
+party had either been a dream or a thing which had happened
+years ago, and had happened in the life of quite another
+little girl.</p>
+
+<p>Every sign of the festivities had been swept away; the
+holly had been removed from the school-room walls, and the
+forms and desks put back into their places. Miss Minchin&rsquo;s
+sitting-room looked as it always did&mdash;all traces of
+the feast were gone, and Miss Minchin had resumed her
+usual dress. The pupils had been ordered to lay aside their
+party frocks; and this having been done, they had returned
+to the school-room and huddled together in groups, whispering
+and talking excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell Sara to come to my room,&rdquo; Miss Minchin had said
+to her sister. &ldquo;And explain to her clearly that I will have
+no crying or unpleasant scenes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sister,&rdquo; replied Miss Amelia, &ldquo;she is the strangest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+child I ever saw. She has actually made no fuss at all.
+You remember she made none when Captain Crewe went
+back to India. When I told her what had happened, she
+just stood quite still and looked at me without making a
+sound. Her eyes seemed to get bigger and bigger, and she
+went quite pale. When I had finished, she still stood staring
+for a few seconds, and then her chin began to shake, and
+she turned round and ran out of the room and up-stairs.
+Several of the other children began to cry, but she did not
+seem to hear them or to be alive to anything but just what
+I was saying. It made me feel quite queer not to be answered;
+and when you tell anything sudden and strange,
+you expect people will say <em>something</em>&mdash;whatever it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Nobody but Sara herself ever knew what had happened
+in her room after she had run up-stairs and locked her door.
+In fact, she herself scarcely remembered anything but that
+she walked up and down, saying over and over again to
+herself in a voice which did not seem her own:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My papa is dead! My papa is dead!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Once she stopped before Emily, who sat watching her
+from her chair, and cried out wildly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Emily! Do you hear? Do you hear&mdash;papa is dead?
+He is dead in India&mdash;thousands of miles away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When she came into Miss Minchin&rsquo;s sitting-room in answer
+to her summons, her face was white and her eyes had
+dark rings around them. Her mouth was set as if she did
+not wish it to reveal what she had suffered and was suffering.
+She did not look in the least like the rose-colored butterfly
+child who had flown about from one of her treasures<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+to the other in the decorated school-room. She looked instead
+a strange, desolate, almost grotesque little figure.</p>
+
+<p>She had put on, without Mariette&rsquo;s help, the cast-aside
+black-velvet frock. It was too short and tight, and her
+slender legs looked long and thin, showing themselves from
+beneath the brief skirt. As she had not found a piece of
+black ribbon, her short, thick, black hair tumbled loosely
+about her face and contrasted strongly with its pallor. She
+held Emily tightly in one arm, and Emily was swathed in
+a piece of black material.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Put down your doll,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin. &ldquo;What do
+you mean by bringing her here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Sara answered. &ldquo;I will not put her down. She
+is all I have. My papa gave her to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had always made Miss Minchin feel secretly uncomfortable,
+and she did so now. She did not speak with
+rudeness so much as with a cold steadiness with which Miss
+Minchin felt it difficult to cope&mdash;perhaps because she knew
+she was doing a heartless and inhuman thing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will have no time for dolls in future,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;You will have to work and improve yourself and make
+yourself useful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara kept her big, strange eyes fixed on her, and said not
+a word.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Everything will be very different now,&rdquo; Miss Minchin
+went on. &ldquo;I suppose Miss Amelia has explained matters
+to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Sara. &ldquo;My papa is dead. He left me
+no money. I am quite poor.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are a beggar,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin, her temper
+rising at the recollection of what all this meant. &ldquo;It appears
+that you have no relations and no home, and no one
+to take care of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the thin, pale little face twitched, but Sara
+again said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you staring at?&rdquo; demanded Miss Minchin,
+sharply. &ldquo;Are you so stupid that you cannot understand?
+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 out of charity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; answered Sara, in a low tone; and there
+was a sound as if she had gulped down something which
+rose in her throat. &ldquo;I understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That doll,&rdquo; cried Miss Minchin, pointing to the splendid
+birthday gift seated near&mdash;&ldquo;that ridiculous doll, with
+all her nonsensical, extravagant things&mdash;<em>I</em> actually paid
+the bill for her!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara turned her head toward the chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Last Doll,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The Last Doll.&rdquo; And her
+little mournful voice had an odd sound.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Last Doll, indeed!&rdquo; said Miss Minchin. &ldquo;And
+she is mine, not yours. Everything you own is mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please take it away from me, then,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I do
+not want it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If she had cried and sobbed and seemed frightened, Miss
+Minchin might almost have had more patience with her.
+She was a woman who liked to domineer and feel her
+power, and as she looked at Sara&rsquo;s pale little steadfast face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+and heard her proud little voice, she quite felt as if her
+might was being set at naught.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t put on grand airs,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The time for
+that sort of thing is past. You are not a princess any
+longer. Your carriage and your pony will be sent away&mdash;your
+maid will be dismissed. You will wear your oldest
+and plainest clothes&mdash;your extravagant ones are no longer
+suited to your station. You are like Becky&mdash;you must
+work for your living.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To her surprise, a faint gleam of light came into the
+child&rsquo;s eyes&mdash;a shade of relief.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can I work?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;If I can work it will not
+matter so much. What can I do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can do anything you are told,&rdquo; was the answer.
+&ldquo;You are a sharp child, and pick up things readily. If
+you make yourself useful I may let you stay here. You
+speak French well, and you can help with the younger
+children.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I?&rdquo; exclaimed Sara. &ldquo;Oh, please let me! I
+know I can teach them. I like them, and they like
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk nonsense about people liking you,&rdquo; said
+Miss Minchin. &ldquo;You will have to do more than teach
+the little ones. You will run errands and help in the
+kitchen as well as in the school-room. If you don&rsquo;t please
+me, you will be sent away. Remember that. Now go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stood still just a moment, looking at her. In her
+young soul, she was thinking deep and strange things.
+Then she turned to leave the room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; said Miss Minchin. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you intend to
+thank me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara paused, and all the deep, strange thoughts surged
+up in her breast.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What for?&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For my kindness to you,&rdquo; replied Miss Minchin.
+&ldquo;For my kindness in giving you a home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara made two or three steps toward her. Her thin little
+chest heaved up and down, and she spoke in a strange,
+unchildishly fierce way.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are not kind,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You are <em>not</em> kind, and
+it is <em>not</em> a home.&rdquo; And she had turned and run out of the
+room before Miss Minchin could stop her or do anything
+but stare after her with stony anger.</p>
+
+<p>She went up the stairs slowly, but panting for breath,
+and she held Emily tightly against her side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish she could talk,&rdquo; she said to herself. &ldquo;If she
+could speak&mdash;if she could speak!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She meant to go to her room and lie down on the tiger-skin,
+with her cheek upon the great cat&rsquo;s head, and look
+into the fire and think and think and think. But just
+before she reached the landing Miss Amelia came out of
+the door and closed it behind her, and stood before it, looking
+nervous and awkward. The truth was that she felt secretly
+ashamed of the thing she had been ordered to do.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&mdash;you are not to go in there,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not go in?&rdquo; exclaimed Sara, and she fell back a pace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is not your room now,&rdquo; Miss Amelia answered,
+reddening a little.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow, all at once, Sara understood. She realized<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+that this was the beginning of the change Miss Minchin
+had spoken of.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is my room?&rdquo; she asked, hoping very much that
+her voice did not shake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are to sleep in the attic next to Becky.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara knew where it was. Becky had told her about it.
+She turned, and mounted up two flights of stairs. The
+last one was narrow, and covered with shabby strips of old
+carpet. She felt as if she were walking away and leaving
+far behind her the world in which that other child, who no
+longer seemed herself, had lived. This child, in her short,
+tight old frock, climbing the stairs to the attic, was quite
+a different creature.</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the attic door and opened it, her heart
+gave a dreary little thump. Then she shut the door and
+stood against it and looked about her.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="illus112" id="illus112"></a>
+<img src="images/illus112.jpg" width="400" height="539" alt="She seldom cried. She did not cry now." title="" />
+<br /><span class="caption">She seldom cried. She did not cry now.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Yes, this was another world. The room had a slanting
+roof and was whitewashed. The whitewash was dingy and
+had fallen off in places. There was a rusty grate, an old
+iron bedstead, and a hard bed covered with a faded coverlet.
+Some pieces of furniture too much worn to be used
+down-stairs had been sent up. Under the skylight in the
+roof, which showed nothing but an oblong piece of dull
+gray sky, there stood an old battered red footstool. Sara
+went to it and sat down. She seldom cried. She did not
+cry now. She laid 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 draperies, not saying
+one word, not making one sound.</p>
+
+<p>And as she sat in this silence there came a low tap at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+door&mdash;such a low, humble one that she did not at first hear
+it, and, indeed, was not roused until the door was timidly
+pushed open and a poor tear-smeared face appeared peeping
+round it. It was Becky&rsquo;s face, and Becky had been
+crying furtively for hours and rubbing her eyes with her
+kitchen apron until she looked strange indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, miss,&rdquo; she said under her breath. &ldquo;Might I&mdash;would
+you allow me&mdash;jest to come in?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara lifted her head and looked at her. She tried to
+begin a smile, and somehow she could not. Suddenly&mdash;and
+it was all through the loving mournfulness of Becky&rsquo;s
+streaming eyes&mdash;her face looked more like a child&rsquo;s not so
+much too old for her years. She held out her hand and
+gave a little sob.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Becky,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I told you we were just the
+same&mdash;only two little girls&mdash;just two little girls. You see
+how true it is. There&rsquo;s no difference now. I&rsquo;m not a
+princess any more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky ran to her and caught her hand, and hugged it to
+her breast, kneeling beside her and sobbing with love and
+pain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, miss, you are,&rdquo; she cried, and her words were all
+broken. &ldquo;Whats&rsquo;ever &rsquo;appens to you&mdash;whats&rsquo;ever&mdash;you&rsquo;d
+be a princess all the same&mdash;an&rsquo; nothin&rsquo; couldn&rsquo;t
+make you nothin&rsquo; different.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII<br />
+
+<small>IN THE ATTIC</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> first night she spent in her attic was a thing
+Sara never forgot. During its passing, she lived
+through a wild, unchildlike woe of which she never
+spoke to any one about her. There was no one who would
+have understood. It was, indeed, well for her that as she
+lay awake in the darkness her mind was forcibly distracted,
+now and then, by the strangeness of her surroundings. It
+was, perhaps, well for her that she was reminded by her
+small body of material things. If this had not been so, the
+anguish of her young mind might have been too great for
+a child to bear. But, really, while the night was passing
+she scarcely knew that she had a body at all or remembered
+any other thing than one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My papa is dead!&rdquo; she kept whispering to herself.
+&ldquo;My papa is dead!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was not until long afterward that she realized that her
+bed had been so hard that she turned over and over in it
+to find a place to rest, that the darkness seemed more intense
+than any she had ever known, and that the wind
+howled over the roof among the chimneys like something
+which wailed aloud. Then there was something worse.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+This was certain scufflings and scratchings and squeakings
+in the walls and behind the skirting boards. She knew
+what they meant, because Becky had described them.
+They meant rats and mice who were either fighting with
+each other or playing together. Once or twice she even
+heard sharp-toed feet scurrying across the floor, and she remembered
+in those after days, when she recalled things,
+that when first she heard them she started up in bed and sat
+trembling, and when she lay down again covered her head
+with the bedclothes.</p>
+
+<p>The change in her life did not come about gradually, but
+was made all at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She must begin as she is to go on,&rdquo; Miss Minchin said
+to Miss Amelia. &ldquo;She must be taught at once what she
+is to expect.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mariette had left the house the next morning. The
+glimpse Sara caught of her sitting-room, as she passed its
+open door, showed her that everything had been changed.
+Her ornaments and luxuries had been removed, and a bed
+had been placed in a corner to transform it into a new
+pupil&rsquo;s bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>When she went down to breakfast she saw that her seat
+at Miss Minchin&rsquo;s side was occupied by Lavinia, and Miss
+Minchin spoke to her coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will begin your new duties, Sara,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;by
+taking your seat with the younger children at a smaller
+table. You must keep them quiet, and see that they behave
+well and do not waste their food. You ought to have been
+down earlier. Lottie has already upset her tea.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>That was the beginning, and from day to day the duties
+given to her were added to. She taught the younger children
+French and heard their other lessons, and these were
+the least of her labors. It was found that she could be
+made use of in numberless directions. She could be sent
+on errands at any time and in all weathers. She could be
+told to do things other people neglected. The cook and the
+housemaids took their tone from Miss Minchin, and rather
+enjoyed ordering about the &ldquo;young one&rdquo; who had been
+made so much fuss over for so long. They were not servants
+of the best class, and had neither good manners nor
+good tempers, and it was frequently convenient to have at
+hand some one on whom blame could be laid.</p>
+
+<p>During the first month or two, Sara thought that her
+willingness to do things as well as she could, and her silence
+under reproof, might soften those who drove her so hard.
+In her proud little heart she wanted them to see that she
+was trying to earn her living and not accepting charity.
+But the time came when she saw that no one was softened
+at all; and the more willing she was to do as she was told,
+the more domineering and exacting careless housemaids
+became, and the more ready a scolding cook was to blame
+her.</p>
+
+<p>If she had been older, Miss Minchin would have given
+her the bigger girls to teach and saved money by dismissing
+an instructress; but while she remained and looked like
+a child, she could be made more useful as a sort of little
+superior errand girl and maid of all work. An ordinary
+errand boy would not have been so clever and reliable.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+Sara could be trusted with difficult commissions and complicated
+messages. She could even go and pay bills, and
+she combined with this the ability to dust a room well and
+to set things in order.</p>
+
+<p>Her own lessons became things of the past. She was
+taught nothing, and only after long and busy days spent
+in running here and there at everybody&rsquo;s orders was she
+grudgingly allowed to go into the deserted school-room,
+with a pile of old books, and study alone at night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I do not remind myself of the things I have learned,
+perhaps I may forget them,&rdquo; she said to herself. &ldquo;I am
+almost a scullery-maid, and if I am a scullery-maid who
+knows nothing, I shall be like poor Becky. I wonder if I
+could <em>quite</em> forget and begin to drop my <em>h&rsquo;s</em> and not remember
+that Henry the Eighth had six wives.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One of the most curious things in her new existence was
+her changed position among the pupils. Instead of being
+a sort of small royal personage among them, she no longer
+seemed to be one of their number at all. She was kept so
+constantly at work that she scarcely ever had an opportunity
+of speaking to any of them, and she could not avoid
+seeing that Miss Minchin preferred that she should live
+a life apart from that of the occupants of the school-room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will not have her forming intimacies and talking to
+the other children,&rdquo; that lady said. &ldquo;Girls like a grievance,
+and if she begins to tell romantic stories about herself, she
+will become an ill-used heroine, and parents will be given a
+wrong impression. It is better that she should live a separate
+life&mdash;one suited to her circumstances. I am giving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+her a home, and that is more than she has any right to expect
+from me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara did not expect much, and was far too proud to try
+to continue to be intimate with girls who evidently felt
+rather awkward and uncertain about her. The fact was
+that Miss Minchin&rsquo;s pupils were a set of dull, matter-of-fact
+young people. They were accustomed to being rich
+and comfortable, and as Sara&rsquo;s frocks grew shorter and
+shabbier and queerer-looking, and it became an established
+fact that she wore shoes with holes in them and was sent out
+to buy groceries and carry them through the streets in a
+basket on her arm when the cook wanted them in a hurry,
+they felt rather as if, when they spoke to her, they were
+addressing an under servant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To think that she was the girl with the diamond-mines,&rdquo;
+Lavinia commented. &ldquo;She does look like an object.
+And she&rsquo;s queerer than ever. I never liked her much, but
+I can&rsquo;t bear that way she has now of looking at people without
+speaking&mdash;just as if she was finding them out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am,&rdquo; said Sara, promptly, when she heard of this.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I look at some people for. I like to know
+about them. I think about them over afterward.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The truth was that she had saved herself annoyance several
+times by keeping her eye on Lavinia, who was quite
+ready to make mischief, and would have been rather pleased
+to have made it for the ex-show pupil.</p>
+
+<p>Sara never made any mischief herself, or interfered with
+any one. She worked like a drudge; she tramped through
+the wet streets, carrying parcels and baskets; she labored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+with the childish inattention of the little ones&rsquo; French lessons;
+as she became shabbier and more forlorn-looking, she
+was told that she had better take her meals down-stairs; she
+was treated as if she was nobody&rsquo;s concern, and her heart
+grew proud and sore, but she never told any one what she
+felt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Soldiers don&rsquo;t complain,&rdquo; she would say between her
+small, shut teeth. &ldquo;I am not going to do it; I will pretend
+this is part of a war.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But there were hours when her child heart might almost
+have broken with loneliness but for three people.</p>
+
+<p>The first, it must be owned, was Becky&mdash;just Becky.
+Throughout all that first night spent in the garret, she had
+felt a vague comfort in knowing that on the other side of
+the wall in which the rats scuffled and squeaked there was
+another young human creature. And during the nights
+that followed the sense of comfort grew. They had little
+chance to speak to each other during the day. Each had
+her own tasks to perform, and any attempt at conversation
+would have been regarded as a tendency to loiter and lose
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t mind me, miss,&rdquo; Becky whispered during the
+first morning, &ldquo;if I don&rsquo;t say nothin&rsquo; polite. Some un &rsquo;d
+be down on us if I did. I <em>means</em> &lsquo;please&rsquo; an&rsquo; &lsquo;thank you&rsquo;
+an&rsquo; &lsquo;beg pardon,&rsquo; but I dassn&rsquo;t to take time to say it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But before daybreak she used to slip into Sara&rsquo;s attic
+and button her dress and give her such help as she required
+before she went down-stairs to light the kitchen fire. And
+when night came Sara always heard the humble knock at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+her door which meant that her handmaid was ready to help
+her again if she was needed. During the first weeks of her
+grief Sara felt as if she were too stupefied to talk, so it happened
+that some time passed before they saw each other
+much or exchanged visits. Becky&rsquo;s heart told her that it
+was best that people in trouble should be left alone.</p>
+
+<p>The second of the trio of comforters was Ermengarde,
+but odd things happened before Ermengarde found her
+place.</p>
+
+<p>When Sara&rsquo;s mind seemed to awaken again to the life
+about her, she realized that she had forgotten that an Ermengarde
+lived in the world. The two had always been
+friends, but Sara had felt as if she were years the older. It
+could not be contested that Ermengarde was as dull as she
+was affectionate. She clung to Sara in a simple, helpless
+way; she brought her lessons to her that she might be
+helped; she listened to her every word and besieged her
+with requests for stories. But she had nothing interesting
+to say herself, and she loathed books of every description.
+She was, in fact, not a person one would remember when
+one was caught in the storm of a great trouble, and Sara
+forgot her.</p>
+
+<p>It had been all the easier to forget her because she had
+been suddenly called home for a few weeks. When she
+came back she did not see Sara for a day or two, and when
+she met her for the first time she encountered her coming
+down a corridor with her arms full of garments which were
+to be taken down-stairs to be mended. Sara herself had
+already been taught to mend them. She looked pale and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+unlike herself, and she was attired in the queer, outgrown
+frock whose shortness showed so much thin black leg.</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde was too slow a girl to be equal to such a
+situation. She could not think of anything to say. She
+knew what had happened, but, somehow, she had never imagined
+Sara could look like this&mdash;so odd and poor and almost
+like a servant. It made her quite miserable, and she
+could do nothing but break into a short hysterical laugh
+and exclaim&mdash;aimlessly and as if without any meaning:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara! is that you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Sara, and suddenly a strange thought
+passed through her mind and made her face flush.</p>
+
+<p>She held the pile of garments in her arms, and her chin
+rested upon the top of it to keep it steady. Something in
+the look of her straight-gazing eyes made Ermengarde
+lose her wits still more. She felt as if Sara had changed
+into a new kind of girl, and she had never known her before.
+Perhaps it was because she had suddenly grown poor and
+had to mend things and work like Becky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she stammered. &ldquo;How&mdash;how are you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sara replied. &ldquo;How are you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m&mdash;I&rsquo;m quite well,&rdquo; said Ermengarde, overwhelmed
+with shyness. Then spasmodically she thought of something
+to say which seemed more intimate. &ldquo;Are you&mdash;are
+you very unhappy?&rdquo; she said in a rush.</p>
+
+<p>Then Sara was guilty of an injustice. Just at that moment
+her torn heart swelled within her, and she felt that if
+any one was as stupid as that, one had better get away from
+her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you think?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Do you think I am
+very happy?&rdquo; and she marched past her without another
+word.</p>
+
+<p>In course of time she realized that if her wretchedness
+had not made her forget things, she would have known that
+poor, dull Ermengarde was not to be blamed for her unready,
+awkward ways. She was always awkward, and the
+more she felt, the more stupid she was given to being.</p>
+
+<p>But the sudden thought which had flashed upon her had
+made her over-sensitive.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is like the others,&rdquo; she had thought. &ldquo;She does not
+really want to talk to me. She knows no one does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So for several weeks a barrier stood between them.
+When they met by chance Sara looked the other way,
+and Ermengarde felt too stiff and embarrassed to
+speak. Sometimes they nodded to each other in passing,
+but there were times when they did not even exchange a
+greeting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she would rather not talk to me,&rdquo; Sara thought, &ldquo;I
+will keep out of her way. Miss Minchin makes that easy
+enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin made it so easy that at last they scarcely
+saw each other at all. At that time it was noticed that Ermengarde
+was more stupid than ever, and that she looked
+listless and unhappy. She used to sit in the window-seat,
+huddled in a heap, and stare out of the window without
+speaking. Once Jessie, who was passing, stopped to look
+at her curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you crying for, Ermengarde?&rdquo; she asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not crying,&rdquo; answered Ermengarde, in a muffled,
+unsteady voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are,&rdquo; said Jessie. &ldquo;A great big tear just rolled
+down the bridge of your nose and dropped off at the end
+of it. And there goes another.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Ermengarde, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m miserable&mdash;and no one
+need interfere.&rdquo; And she turned her plump back and took
+out her handkerchief and boldly hid her face in it.</p>
+
+<p>That night, when Sara went to her attic, she was later
+than usual. She had been kept at work until after the hour
+at which the pupils went to bed, and after that she had gone
+to her lessons in the lonely school-room. When she reached
+the top of the stairs, she was surprised to see a glimmer of
+light coming from under the attic door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nobody goes there but myself,&rdquo; she thought quickly;
+&ldquo;but some one has lighted a candle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Some one had, indeed, lighted a candle, and it was not
+burning in the kitchen candlestick she was expected to use,
+but in one of those belonging to the pupils&rsquo; bedrooms. The
+some one was sitting upon the battered footstool, and
+was dressed in her night-gown and wrapped up in a red
+shawl. It was Ermengarde.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ermengarde!&rdquo; cried Sara. She was so startled that
+she was almost frightened. &ldquo;You will get into trouble.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde stumbled up from her footstool. She
+shuffled across the attic in her bedroom slippers, which
+were too large for her. Her eyes and nose were pink with
+crying.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know I shall&mdash;if I&rsquo;m found out,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+I don&rsquo;t care&mdash;I don&rsquo;t care a bit. Oh, Sara, please tell me.
+What <em>is</em> the matter? Why don&rsquo;t you like me any more?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Something in her voice made the familiar lump rise in
+Sara&rsquo;s throat. It was so affectionate and simple&mdash;so like
+the old Ermengarde who had asked her to be &ldquo;best
+friends.&rdquo; It sounded as if she had not meant what she had
+seemed to mean during these past weeks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do like you,&rdquo; Sara answered. &ldquo;I thought&mdash;you see,
+everything is different now. I thought you&mdash;were different.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde opened her wet eyes wide.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, it was you who were different!&rdquo; she cried.
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t want to talk to me. I didn&rsquo;t know what to
+do. It was you who were different after I came back.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara thought a moment. She saw she had made a mistake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <em>am</em> different,&rdquo; she explained, &ldquo;though not in the way
+you think. Miss Minchin does not want me to talk to the
+girls. Most of them don&rsquo;t want to talk to me. I thought&mdash;perhaps&mdash;you
+didn&rsquo;t. So I tried to keep out of your
+way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara,&rdquo; Ermengarde almost wailed in her reproachful
+dismay. And then after one more look they rushed into
+each other&rsquo;s arms. It must be confessed that Sara&rsquo;s small
+black head lay for some minutes on the shoulder covered by
+the red shawl. When Ermengarde had seemed to desert
+her, she had felt horribly lonely.</p>
+
+<p>Afterward they sat down upon the floor together, Sara
+clasping her knees with her arms, and Ermengarde rolled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+up in her shawl. Ermengarde looked at the odd, big-eyed
+little face adoringly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t bear it any more,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I dare say
+you could live without me, Sara; but I couldn&rsquo;t live without
+you. I was nearly <em>dead</em>. So to-night, when I was crying
+under the bedclothes, I thought all at once of creeping
+up here and just begging you to let us be friends again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are nicer than I am,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I was too proud
+to try and make friends. You see, now that trials have
+come, they have shown that I am <em>not</em> a nice child. I was
+afraid they would. Perhaps&rdquo;&mdash;wrinkling her forehead
+wisely&mdash;&ldquo;that is what they were sent for.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see any good in them,&rdquo; said Ermengarde,
+stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Neither do I&mdash;to speak the truth,&rdquo; admitted Sara,
+frankly. &ldquo;But I suppose there <em>might</em> be good in things,
+even if we don&rsquo;t see it. There <em>might</em>&rdquo;&mdash;doubtfully&mdash;&ldquo;be
+good in Miss Minchin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde looked round the attic with a rather fearsome
+curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;do you think you can bear living
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked round also.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I pretend it&rsquo;s quite different, I can,&rdquo; she answered;
+&ldquo;or if I pretend it is a place in a story.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She spoke slowly. Her imagination was beginning to
+work for her. It had not worked for her at all since her
+troubles had come upon her. She had felt as if it had been
+stunned.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Other people have lived in worse places. Think of the
+Count of Monte Cristo in the dungeons of the Château
+d&rsquo;If. And think of the people in the Bastille!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Bastille,&rdquo; half whispered Ermengarde, watching
+her and beginning to be fascinated. She remembered stories
+of the French Revolution which Sara had been able to
+fix in her mind by her dramatic relation of them. No one
+but Sara could have done it.</p>
+
+<p>A well-known glow came into Sara&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, hugging her knees. &ldquo;That will be a
+good place to pretend about. I am a prisoner in the Bastille.
+I have been here for years and years&mdash;and years;
+and everybody has forgotten about me. Miss Minchin is
+the jailer&mdash;and Becky&rdquo;&mdash;a sudden light adding itself to
+the glow in her eyes&mdash;&ldquo;Becky is the prisoner in the next
+cell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She turned to Ermengarde, looking quite like the old
+Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall pretend that,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;and it will be a great
+comfort.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde was at once enraptured and awed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And will you tell me all about it?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;May I
+creep up here at night, whenever it is safe, and hear the
+things you have made up in the day? It will seem as if we
+were more &lsquo;best friends&rsquo; than ever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Sara, nodding. &ldquo;Adversity tries people,
+and mine has tried you and proved how nice you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER IX<br />
+
+<small>MELCHISEDEC</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> third person in the trio was Lottie. She was
+a small thing and did not know what adversity
+meant, and was much bewildered by the alteration
+she saw in her young adopted mother. She had heard it
+rumored that strange things had happened to Sara, but she
+could not understand why she looked different&mdash;why she
+wore an old black frock and came into the school-room
+only to teach instead of to sit in her place of honor and
+learn lessons herself. There had been much whispering
+among the little ones when it had been discovered that Sara
+no longer lived in the rooms in which Emily had so long sat
+in state. Lottie&rsquo;s chief difficulty was that Sara said so little
+when one asked her questions. At seven mysteries must
+be made very clear if one is to understand them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you very poor now, Sara?&rdquo; she had asked confidentially
+the first morning her friend took charge of the
+small French class. &ldquo;Are you as poor as a beggar?&rdquo; She
+thrust a fat hand into the slim one and opened round, tearful
+eyes. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want you to be as poor as a beggar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked as if she was going to cry, and Sara hurriedly
+consoled her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beggars have nowhere to live,&rdquo; she said courageously.
+&ldquo;I have a place to live in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where do you live?&rdquo; persisted Lottie. &ldquo;The new girl
+sleeps in your room, and it isn&rsquo;t pretty any more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I live in another room,&rdquo; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it a nice one?&rdquo; inquired Lottie. &ldquo;I want to go and
+see it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must not talk,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;Miss Minchin is
+looking at us. She will be angry with me for letting you
+whisper.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had found out already that she was to be held accountable
+for everything which was objected to. If the
+children were not attentive, if they talked, if they were
+restless, it was she who would be reproved.</p>
+
+<p>But Lottie was a determined little person. If Sara
+would not tell her where she lived, she would find out in
+some other way. She talked to her small companions and
+hung about the elder girls and listened when they were gossiping;
+and acting upon certain information they had unconsciously
+let drop, she started late one afternoon on a
+voyage of discovery, climbing stairs she had never known
+the existence of, until she reached the attic floor. There she
+found two doors near each other, and opening one, she saw
+her beloved Sara standing upon an old table and looking
+out of a window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara!&rdquo; she cried, aghast. &ldquo;Mamma Sara!&rdquo; She was
+aghast because the attic was so bare and ugly and seemed
+so far away from all the world. Her short legs had seemed
+to have been mounting hundreds of stairs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sara turned round at the sound of her voice. It was
+her turn to be aghast. What would happen now? If Lottie
+began to cry and any one chanced to hear, they were
+both lost. She jumped down from her table and ran to the
+child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry and make a noise,&rdquo; she implored. &ldquo;I shall be
+scolded if you do, and I have been scolded all day. It&rsquo;s&mdash;it&rsquo;s
+not such a bad room, Lottie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; gasped Lottie, and as she looked round it
+she bit her lip. She was a spoiled child yet, but she was
+fond enough of her adopted parent to make an effort to
+control herself for her sake. Then, somehow, it was quite
+possible that any place in which Sara lived might turn out
+to be nice. &ldquo;Why isn&rsquo;t it, Sara?&rdquo; she almost whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Sara hugged her close and tried to laugh. There was a
+sort of comfort in the warmth of the plump, childish body.
+She had had a hard day and had been staring out of the
+windows with hot eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can see all sorts of things you can&rsquo;t see down-stairs,&rdquo;
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What sort of things?&rdquo; demanded Lottie, with that curiosity
+Sara could always awaken even in bigger girls.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Chimneys&mdash;quite close to us&mdash;with smoke curling up in
+wreaths and clouds and going up into the sky,&mdash;and sparrows
+hopping about and talking to each other just as if
+they were people,&mdash;and other attic windows where heads
+may pop out any minute and you can wonder who they belong
+to. And it all feels as high up&mdash;as if it was another
+world.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, let me see it!&rdquo; cried Lottie. &ldquo;Lift me up!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara lifted her up, and they stood on the old table together
+and leaned on the edge of the flat window in the
+roof, and looked out.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="illus132" id="illus132"></a>
+<img src="images/illus132.jpg" width="400" height="533" alt="The sparrows twittered and hopped about quite without fear." title="" />
+<br /><span class="caption">The sparrows twittered and hopped about quite without fear.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Any one who has not done this does not know what a
+different world they saw. The slates spread out on either
+side of them and slanted down into the rain gutter-pipes.
+The sparrows, being at home there, twittered and hopped
+about quite without fear. Two of them perched on the
+chimney-top nearest and quarrelled with each other fiercely
+until one pecked the other and drove him away. The garret
+window next to theirs was shut because the house next
+door was empty.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish some one lived there,&rdquo; Sara said. &ldquo;It is so close
+that if there was a little girl in the attic, we could talk to
+each other through the windows and climb over to see each
+other, if we were not afraid of falling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The sky seemed so much nearer than when one saw it
+from the street, that Lottie was enchanted. From the attic
+window, among the chimney-pots, the things which were
+happening in the world below seemed almost unreal. One
+scarcely believed in the existence of Miss Minchin and
+Miss Amelia and the school-room, and the roll of wheels in
+the square seemed a sound belonging to another existence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara!&rdquo; cried Lottie, cuddling in her guarding arm.
+&ldquo;I like this attic&mdash;I like it! It is nicer than down-stairs!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at that sparrow,&rdquo; whispered Sara. &ldquo;I wish I
+had some crumbs to throw to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have some!&rdquo; came in a little shriek from Lottie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I have part of a bun in my pocket; I bought it with my
+penny yesterday, and I saved a bit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When they threw out a few crumbs the sparrow jumped
+and flew away to an adjacent chimney-top. He was evidently
+not accustomed to intimates in attics, and unexpected
+crumbs startled him. But when Lottie remained
+quite still and Sara chirped very softly&mdash;almost as if she
+were a sparrow herself&mdash;he saw that the thing which had
+alarmed him represented hospitality, after all. He put his
+head on one side, and from his perch on the chimney looked
+down at the crumbs with twinkling eyes. Lottie could
+scarcely keep still.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will he come? Will he come?&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His eyes look as if he would,&rdquo; Sara whispered back.
+&ldquo;He is thinking and thinking whether he dare. Yes, he
+will! Yes, he is coming!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He flew down and hopped toward the crumbs, but
+stopped a few inches away from them, putting his head on
+one side again, as if reflecting on the chances that Sara and
+Lottie might turn out to be big cats and jump on him. At
+last his heart told him they were really nicer than they
+looked, and he hopped nearer and nearer, darted at the
+biggest crumb with a lightning peck, seized it, and carried
+it away to the other side of his chimney.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now he <em>knows</em>,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;And he will come back
+for the others.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He did come back, and even brought a friend, and the
+friend went away and brought a relative, and among them
+they made a hearty meal over which they twittered and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+chattered and exclaimed, stopping every now and then to
+put their heads on one side and examine Lottie and Sara.
+Lottie was so delighted that she quite forgot her first
+shocked impression of the attic. In fact, when she was
+lifted down from the table and returned to earthly things,
+as it were, Sara was able to point out to her many beauties
+in the room which she herself would not have suspected the
+existence of.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is so little and so high above everything,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;that it is almost like a nest in a tree. The slanting
+ceiling is so funny. See, you can scarcely stand up at this
+end of the room; and when the morning begins to come I
+can lie in bed and look right up into the sky through that
+flat window in the roof. It is like a square patch of light.
+If the sun is going to shine, little pink clouds float about,
+and I feel as if I could touch them. And if it rains, the
+drops patter and patter as if they were saying something
+nice. Then if there are stars, you can lie and try to count
+how many go into the patch. It takes such a lot. And
+just look at that tiny, rusty grate in the corner. If it was
+polished and there was a fire in it, just think how nice it
+would be. You see, it&rsquo;s really a beautiful little room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was walking round the small place, holding Lottie&rsquo;s
+hand and making gestures which described all the beauties
+she was making herself see. She quite made Lottie see
+them, too. Lottie could always believe in the things Sara
+made pictures of.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;there could be a thick, soft blue
+Indian rug on the floor; and in that corner there could be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+a soft little sofa, with cushions to curl up on; and just
+over it could be a shelf full of books so that one could
+reach them easily; and there could be a fur rug before the
+fire, and hangings on the wall to cover up the whitewash,
+and pictures. They would have to be little ones, but they
+could be beautiful; and there could be a lamp with a deep
+rose-colored shade; and a table in the middle, with things
+to have tea with; and a little fat copper kettle singing on
+the hob; and the bed could be quite different. It could
+be made soft and covered with a lovely silk coverlet. It
+could be beautiful. And perhaps we could coax the sparrows
+until we made such friends with them that they would
+come and peck at the window and ask to be let in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara!&rdquo; cried Lottie; &ldquo;I should like to live here!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Sara had persuaded her to go down-stairs again,
+and, after setting her in her way, had come back to her attic,
+she stood in the middle of it and looked about her. The
+enchantment of her imaginings for Lottie had died away.
+The bed was hard and covered with its dingy quilt. The
+whitewashed wall showed its broken patches, the floor was
+cold and bare, the grate was broken and rusty, and the
+battered footstool, tilted sideways on its injured leg, the
+only seat in the room. She sat down on it for a few minutes
+and let her head drop in her hands. The mere fact that
+Lottie had come and gone away again made things seem a
+little worse&mdash;just as perhaps prisoners feel a little more
+desolate after visitors come and go, leaving them behind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a lonely place,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Sometimes it&rsquo;s the
+loneliest place in the world.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She was sitting in this way when her attention was attracted
+by a slight sound near her. She lifted her head to
+see where it came from, and if she had been a nervous
+child she would have left her seat on the battered footstool
+in a great hurry. A large rat was sitting up on his hind
+quarters and sniffing the air in an interested manner.
+Some of Lottie&rsquo;s crumbs had dropped upon the floor and
+their scent had drawn him out of his hole.</p>
+
+<p>He looked so queer and so like a gray-whiskered dwarf
+or gnome that Sara was rather fascinated. He looked at
+her with his bright eyes, as if he were asking a question.
+He was evidently so doubtful that one of the child&rsquo;s queer
+thoughts came into her mind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat,&rdquo; she mused.
+&ldquo;Nobody likes you. People jump and run away and
+scream out, &lsquo;Oh, a horrid rat!&rsquo; I shouldn&rsquo;t like people to
+scream and jump and say, &lsquo;Oh, a horrid Sara!&rsquo; the moment
+they saw me. And set traps for me, and pretend they
+were dinner. It&rsquo;s so different to be a sparrow. But nobody
+asked this rat if he wanted to be a rat when he was
+made. Nobody said, &lsquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t you rather be a sparrow?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had sat so quietly that the rat had begun to take
+courage. He was very much afraid of her, but perhaps he
+had a heart like the sparrow and it told him that she was
+not a thing which pounced. He was very hungry. He had
+a wife and a large family in the wall, and they had had
+frightfully bad luck for several days. He had left the
+children crying bitterly, and felt he would risk a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+deal for a few crumbs, so he cautiously dropped upon his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on,&rdquo; said Sara; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a trap. You can have
+them, poor thing! Prisoners in the Bastille used to make
+friends with rats. Suppose I make friends with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>How it is that animals understand things I do not know,
+but it is certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is
+a language which is not made of words and everything in
+the world understands it. Perhaps there is a soul hidden
+in everything and it can always speak, without even making
+a sound, to another soul. But whatsoever was the reason,
+the rat knew from that moment that he was safe&mdash;even
+though he was a rat. He knew that this young human
+being sitting on the red footstool would not jump up and
+terrify him with wild, sharp noises or throw heavy objects
+at him which, if they did not fall and crush him, would send
+him limping in his scurry back to his hole. He was really a
+very nice rat, and did not mean the least harm. When he
+had stood on his hind legs and sniffed the air, with his bright
+eyes fixed on Sara, he had hoped that she would understand
+this, and would not begin by hating him as an enemy.
+When the mysterious thing which speaks without saying
+any words told him that she would not, he went softly toward
+the crumbs and began to eat them. As he did it he
+glanced every now and then at Sara, just as the sparrows
+had done, and his expression was so very apologetic that
+it touched her heart.</p>
+
+<p>She sat and watched him without making any movement.
+One crumb was very much larger than the others&mdash;in fact,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+it could scarcely be called a crumb. It was evident that he
+wanted that piece very much, but it lay quite near the footstool
+and he was still rather timid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe he wants it to carry to his family in the wall,&rdquo;
+Sara thought. &ldquo;If I do not stir at all, perhaps he will
+come and get it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She scarcely allowed herself to breathe, she was so
+deeply interested. The rat shuffled a little nearer and ate
+a few more crumbs, then he stopped and sniffed delicately,
+giving a side glance at the occupant of the footstool; then
+he darted at the piece of bun with something very like the
+sudden boldness of the sparrow, and the instant he had possession
+of it fled back to the wall, slipped down a crack in
+the skirting board, and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I knew he wanted it for his children,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I
+do believe I could make friends with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A week or so afterward, on one of the rare nights when
+Ermengarde found it safe to steal up to the attic, when she
+tapped on the door with the tips of her fingers Sara did
+not come to her for two or three minutes. There was, indeed,
+such a silence in the room at first that Ermengarde
+wondered if she could have fallen asleep. Then, to her surprise,
+she heard her utter a little, low laugh and speak coaxingly
+to some one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There!&rdquo; Ermengarde heard her say. &ldquo;Take it and
+go home, Melchisedec! Go home to your wife!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Almost immediately Sara opened the door, and when she
+did so she found Ermengarde standing with alarmed eyes
+upon the threshold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who&mdash;who <em>are</em> you talking to, Sara?&rdquo; she gasped out.</p>
+
+<p>Sara drew her in cautiously, but she looked as if something
+pleased and amused her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must promise not to be frightened&mdash;not to scream
+the least bit, or I can&rsquo;t tell you,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde felt almost inclined to scream on the spot,
+but managed to control herself. She looked all round the
+attic and saw no one. And yet Sara had certainly been
+speaking <em>to</em> some one. She thought of ghosts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it&mdash;something that will frighten me?&rdquo; she asked
+timorously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some people are afraid of them,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I was
+at first,&mdash;but I am not now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was it&mdash;a ghost?&rdquo; quaked Ermengarde.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Sara, laughing. &ldquo;It was my rat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde made one bound, and landed in the middle
+of the little dingy bed. She tucked her feet under her
+night-gown and the red shawl. She did not scream, but she
+gasped with fright.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! oh!&rdquo; she cried under her breath. &ldquo;A rat! A rat!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was afraid you would be frightened,&rdquo; said Sara.
+&ldquo;But you needn&rsquo;t be. I am making him tame. He actually
+knows me and comes out when I call him. Are you
+too frightened to want to see him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The truth was that, as the days had gone on and, with the
+aid of scraps brought up from the kitchen, her curious
+friendship had developed, she had gradually forgotten that
+the timid creature she was becoming familiar with was a
+mere rat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At first Ermengarde was too much alarmed to do anything
+but huddle in a heap upon the bed and tuck up her
+feet, but the sight of Sara&rsquo;s composed little countenance
+and the story of Melchisedec&rsquo;s first appearance began at
+last to rouse her curiosity, and she leaned forward over the
+edge of the bed and watched Sara go and kneel down by
+the hole in the skirting board.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&mdash;he won&rsquo;t run out quickly and jump on the bed,
+will he?&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered Sara. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s as polite as we are. He
+is just like a person. Now watch!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She began to make a low, whistling sound&mdash;so low and
+coaxing that it could only have been heard in entire stillness.
+She did it several times, looking entirely absorbed
+in it. Ermengarde thought she looked as if she were working
+a spell. And at last, evidently in response to it,
+a gray-whiskered, bright-eyed head peeped out of the
+hole. Sara had some crumbs in her hand. She dropped
+them, and Melchisedec came quietly forth and ate
+them. A piece of larger size than the rest he took
+and carried in the most businesslike manner back to his
+home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;that is for his wife and children.
+He is very nice. He only eats the little bits. After he goes
+back I can always hear his family squeaking for joy.
+There are three kinds of squeaks. One kind is the children&rsquo;s,
+and one is Mrs. Melchisedec&rsquo;s, and one is Melchisedec&rsquo;s
+own.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde began to laugh.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You <em>are</em> queer,&mdash;but you are
+nice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know I am queer,&rdquo; admitted Sara, cheerfully; &ldquo;and
+I <em>try</em> to be nice.&rdquo; She rubbed her forehead with her little
+brown paw, and a puzzled, tender look came into her face.
+&ldquo;Papa always laughed at me,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but I liked it.
+He thought I was queer, but he liked me to make up
+things. I&mdash;I can&rsquo;t help making up things. If I didn&rsquo;t, I
+don&rsquo;t believe I could live.&rdquo; She paused and glanced round
+the attic. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I couldn&rsquo;t live here,&rdquo; she added in a
+low voice.</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde was interested, as she always was. &ldquo;When
+you talk about things,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;they seem as if they grew
+real. You talk about Melchisedec as if he was a person.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He <em>is</em> a person,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;He gets hungry and
+frightened, just as we do; and he is married and has children.
+How do we know he doesn&rsquo;t think things, just as we
+do? His eyes look as if he was a person. That was why
+I gave him a name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She sat down on the floor in her favorite attitude, holding
+her knees.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Besides,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;he is a Bastille rat sent to be my
+friend. I can always get a bit of bread the cook has thrown
+away, and it is quite enough to support him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the Bastille yet?&rdquo; asked Ermengarde, eagerly.
+&ldquo;Do you always pretend it is the Bastille?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nearly always,&rdquo; answered Sara. &ldquo;Sometimes I try to
+pretend it is another kind of place; but the Bastille is
+generally easiest&mdash;particularly when it is cold.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment Ermengarde almost jumped off the
+bed, she was so startled by a sound she heard. It was like
+two distinct knocks on the wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Sara got up from the floor and answered quite dramatically:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is the prisoner in the next cell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Becky!&rdquo; cried Ermengarde, enraptured.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;Listen; the two knocks meant,
+&lsquo;Prisoner, are you there?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She knocked three times on the wall herself, as if in
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That means, &lsquo;Yes, I am here, and all is well.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Four knocks came from Becky&rsquo;s side of the wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That means,&rdquo; explained Sara, &ldquo;&lsquo;Then, fellow-sufferer,
+we will sleep in peace. Good-night.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde quite beamed with delight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara!&rdquo; she whispered joyfully. &ldquo;It is like a
+story!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It <em>is</em> a story,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;<em>Everything&rsquo;s</em> a story. You
+are a story&mdash;I am a story. Miss Minchin is a story.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she sat down again and talked until Ermengarde
+forgot that she was a sort of escaped prisoner herself, and
+had to be reminded by Sara that she could not remain in
+the Bastille all night, but must steal noiselessly down-stairs
+again and creep back into her deserted bed.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER X<br />
+
+<small>THE INDIAN GENTLEMAN</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">But</span> it was a perilous thing for Ermengarde and
+Lottie to make pilgrimages to the attic. They could
+never be quite sure when Sara would be there, and
+they could scarcely ever be certain that Miss Amelia would
+not make a tour of inspection through the bedrooms after
+the pupils were supposed to be asleep. So their visits were
+rare ones, and Sara lived a strange and lonely life. It was
+a lonelier life when she was down-stairs than when she was
+in her attic. She had no one to talk to; and when she was
+sent out on errands and walked through the streets, a forlorn
+little figure carrying a basket or a parcel, trying to
+hold her hat on when the wind was blowing, and feeling
+the water soak through her shoes when it was raining, she
+felt as if the crowds hurrying past her made her loneliness
+greater. When she had been the Princess Sara, driving
+through the streets in her brougham, or walking, attended
+by Mariette, the sight of her bright, eager little face and
+picturesque coats and hats had often caused people to look
+after her. A happy, beautifully cared for little girl naturally
+attracts attention. Shabby, poorly dressed children
+are not rare enough and pretty enough to make people turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+around to look at them and smile. No one looked at Sara
+in these days, and no one seemed to see her as she hurried
+along the crowded pavements. She had begun to grow
+very fast, and, as she was dressed only in such clothes as the
+plainer remnants of her wardrobe would supply, she knew
+she looked very queer, indeed. All her valuable garments
+had been disposed of, and such as had been left for her use
+she was expected to wear so long as she could put them on
+at all. Sometimes, when she passed a shop window with
+a mirror in it, she almost laughed outright on catching a
+glimpse of herself, and sometimes her face went red and
+she bit her lip and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, when she passed houses whose windows
+were lighted up, she used to look into the warm rooms and
+amuse herself by imagining things about the people she
+saw sitting before the fires or about the tables. It always
+interested her to catch glimpses of rooms before the shutters
+were closed. There were several families in the
+square in which Miss Minchin lived, with which she had
+become quite familiar in a way of her own. The one she
+liked best she called the Large Family. She called it the
+Large Family not because the members of it were big,&mdash;for,
+indeed, most of them were little,&mdash;but because there
+were so many of them. There were eight children in the
+Large Family, and a stout, rosy mother, and a stout, rosy
+father, and a stout, rosy grandmother, 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+or they were flying to the door in the evening to meet their
+papa and kiss him and dance around him and drag off
+his overcoat and look in the pockets for packages, or they
+were crowding about the nursery windows and looking out
+and pushing each other and laughing&mdash;in fact, they were
+always doing something enjoyable and suited to the tastes
+of a large family. Sara was quite fond of them, and had
+given them names out of books&mdash;quite romantic names.
+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 Cholmondeley Montmorency; the little
+boy who could just stagger and who had such round
+legs was Sydney Cecil Vivian Montmorency; and then
+came Lilian Evangeline Maud Marion, Rosalind Gladys,
+Guy Clarence, Veronica Eustacia, and Claude Harold
+Hector.</p>
+
+<p>One evening a very funny thing happened&mdash;though,
+perhaps, in one sense it was not a funny thing at all.</p>
+
+<p>Several of the Montmorencys were evidently going to
+a children&rsquo;s party, and just as Sara was about to pass the
+door they were crossing the pavement to get into the carriage
+which was waiting for them. Veronica Eustacia and
+Rosalind Gladys, in white-lace frocks and lovely sashes,
+had just got in, and Guy Clarence, aged five, was following
+them. He was such a pretty fellow and had such rosy
+cheeks and blue eyes, and such a darling little round head
+covered with curls, that Sara forgot her basket and shabby
+cloak altogether&mdash;in fact, forgot everything but that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+wanted to look at him for a moment. So she paused and
+looked.</p>
+
+<p>It was Christmas time, and the Large Family had been
+hearing many stories about children who were poor and
+had no mammas and papas to fill their stockings and
+take them to the pantomime&mdash;children who were, in fact,
+cold and thinly clad and hungry. In the stories, kind
+people&mdash;sometimes little boys and girls with tender hearts&mdash;invariably
+saw the poor children and gave them money
+or rich gifts, or took them home to beautiful dinners. Guy
+Clarence had been affected to tears that very afternoon
+by the reading of such a story, and he had burned with a
+desire to find such a poor child and give her a certain sixpence
+he possessed, and thus provide for her for life. An
+entire sixpence, he was sure, would mean affluence for evermore.
+As he crossed the strip of red carpet laid across
+the pavement from the door to the carriage, he had this
+very sixpence in the pocket of his very short man-o&rsquo;-war
+trousers. And just as Rosalind Gladys got into the vehicle
+and jumped on to the seat in order to feel the cushions
+spring under her, he saw Sara standing on the wet pavement
+in her shabby frock and hat, with her old basket on
+her arm, looking at him hungrily.</p>
+
+<p>He thought that her eyes looked hungry because she
+had perhaps had nothing to eat for a long time. He did
+not know that they looked so because she was hungry for
+the warm, merry life his home held and his rosy face spoke
+of, and that she had a hungry wish to snatch him in her
+arms and kiss him. He only knew that she had big eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+and a thin face and thin legs and a common basket and poor
+clothes. So he put his hand in his pocket and found his
+sixpence and walked up to her benignly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here, poor little girl,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Here is a sixpence.
+I will give it to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara started, and all at once realized that she looked exactly
+like poor children she had seen, in her better days,
+waiting on the pavement to watch her as she got out of her
+brougham. And she had given them pennies many a time.
+Her face went red and then it went pale, and for a second
+she felt as if she could not take the dear little sixpence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Oh, no, thank you; I mustn&rsquo;t
+take it, indeed!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was so unlike an ordinary street child&rsquo;s voice
+and her manner was so like the manner of a well-bred little
+person that Veronica Eustacia (whose real name was
+Janet) and Rosalind Gladys (who was really called Nora)
+leaned forward to listen.</p>
+
+<p>But Guy Clarence was not to be thwarted in his benevolence.
+He thrust the sixpence into her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, you must take it, poor little girl!&rdquo; he insisted
+stoutly. &ldquo;You can buy things to eat with it. It is a whole
+sixpence!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was something so honest and kind in his face, and
+he looked so likely to be heartbrokenly disappointed if she
+did not take it, that Sara knew she must not refuse him.
+To be as proud as that would be a cruel thing. So she
+actually put her pride in her pocket, though it must be
+admitted her cheeks burned.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You are a kind, kind little
+darling thing.&rdquo; And as he scrambled joyfully into the
+carriage she went away, trying to smile, though she caught
+her breath quickly and her eyes were shining through a
+mist. She had known that she looked odd and shabby,
+but until now she had not known that she might be taken
+for a beggar.</p>
+
+<p>As the Large Family&rsquo;s carriage drove away, the children
+inside it were talking with interested excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Donald&rdquo; (this was Guy Clarence&rsquo;s name), Janet
+exclaimed alarmedly, &ldquo;why did you offer that little
+girl your sixpence? I&rsquo;m sure she is not a beggar!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She didn&rsquo;t speak like a beggar!&rdquo; cried Nora; &ldquo;and
+her face didn&rsquo;t really look like a beggar&rsquo;s face!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Besides, she didn&rsquo;t beg,&rdquo; said Janet. &ldquo;I was so afraid
+she might be angry with you. You know, it makes people
+angry to be taken for beggars when they are not beggars.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She wasn&rsquo;t angry,&rdquo; said Donald, a trifle dismayed, but
+still firm. &ldquo;She laughed a little, and she said I was a kind,
+kind little darling thing. And I was!&rdquo;&mdash;stoutly. &ldquo;It was
+my whole sixpence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Janet and Nora exchanged glances.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A beggar girl would never have said that,&rdquo; decided
+Janet. &ldquo;She would have said, &lsquo;Thank yer kindly, little
+gentleman&mdash;thank yer, sir&rsquo;; and perhaps she would have
+bobbed a courtesy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara knew nothing about the fact, but from that time
+the Large Family was as profoundly interested in her as
+she was in it. Faces used to appear at the nursery windows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+when she passed, and many discussions concerning her
+were held round the fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is a kind of servant at the seminary,&rdquo; Janet said.
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe she belongs to anybody. I believe she is
+an orphan. But she is not a beggar, however shabby she
+looks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And afterward she was called by all of them, &ldquo;The-little-girl-who-is-not-a-beggar,&rdquo;
+which was, of course,
+rather a long name, and sounded very funny sometimes
+when the youngest ones said it in a hurry.</p>
+
+<p>Sara managed to bore a hole in the sixpence and hung
+it on an old bit of narrow ribbon round her neck. Her
+affection for the Large Family increased&mdash;as, indeed, her
+affection for everything she could love increased. She
+grew fonder and fonder of Becky, and she used to look
+forward to the two mornings a week when she went into
+the school-room to give the little ones their French lesson.
+Her small pupils loved her, and strove with each other for
+the privilege of standing close to her and insinuating their
+small hands into hers. It fed her hungry heart to feel them
+nestling up to her. She made such friends with the sparrows
+that when she stood upon the table, put her head and
+shoulders out of the attic window, and chirped, she heard
+almost immediately a flutter of wings and answering twitters,
+and a little flock of dingy town birds appeared and
+alighted on the slates to talk to her and make much of the
+crumbs she scattered. With Melchisedec she had become
+so intimate that he actually brought Mrs. Melchisedec with
+him sometimes, and now and then one or two of his children.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+She used to talk to him, and, somehow, he looked
+quite as if he understood.</p>
+
+<p>There had grown in her mind rather a strange feeling
+about Emily, who always sat and looked on at everything.
+It arose in one of her moments of great desolateness. She
+would have liked to believe or pretend to believe that Emily
+understood and sympathized with her. She did not like to
+own to herself that her only companion could feel and hear
+nothing. She used to put her in a chair sometimes and
+sit opposite to her on the old red footstool, and stare and
+pretend about her until her own eyes would grow large
+with something which was almost like fear&mdash;particularly
+at night when everything was so still, when the only
+sound in the attic was the occasional sudden scurry and
+squeak of Melchisedec&rsquo;s family in the wall. One of her
+&ldquo;pretends&rdquo; was that Emily was a kind of good witch who
+could protect her. Sometimes, after she had stared at her
+until she was wrought up to the highest pitch of fancifulness,
+she would ask her questions and find herself <em>almost</em>
+feeling as if she would presently answer. But she never
+did.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As to answering, though,&rdquo; said Sara, trying to console
+herself, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;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&mdash;just to
+look at them and <em>think</em>. Miss Minchin turns pale with
+rage when I do it, Miss Amelia looks frightened, and so
+do the girls. When you will not fly into a passion people
+know you are stronger than they are, because you are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+strong enough to hold in your rage, and they are not, and
+they say stupid things they wish they hadn&rsquo;t said afterward.
+There&rsquo;s nothing so strong as rage, except what
+makes you hold it in&mdash;that&rsquo;s stronger. It&rsquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But though she tried to satisfy herself with these arguments,
+she 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, she came
+in wet and hungry, and was sent out again because nobody
+chose to remember that she was only a child, and that
+her slim legs might be tired and her small body 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 mood, and when she had seen the girls sneering
+among themselves at her shabbiness&mdash;then she was not
+always able to comfort her sore, proud, desolate heart with
+fancies when Emily merely sat upright in her old chair
+and stared.</p>
+
+<p>One of these nights, when she came up to the attic cold
+and hungry, with a tempest raging in her young breast,
+Emily&rsquo;s stare seemed so vacant, her sawdust legs and arms
+so inexpressive, that Sara lost all control over herself.
+There was nobody but Emily&mdash;no one in the world. And
+there she sat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall die presently,&rdquo; she said at first.</p>
+
+<p>Emily simply stared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t bear this,&rdquo; said the poor child, trembling. &ldquo;I
+know I shall die. I&rsquo;m cold; I&rsquo;m wet; I&rsquo;m starving to
+death. I&rsquo;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 the cook 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&rsquo;m covered with mud now. And they laughed.
+Do you hear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent face,
+and suddenly a sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She
+lifted her little savage hand and knocked Emily off the
+chair, bursting into a passion of sobbing,&mdash;Sara who never
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are nothing but a <em>doll!&rdquo;</em> she cried; &ldquo;nothing but
+a doll&mdash;doll&mdash;doll! You care for nothing. You are
+stuffed with sawdust. You never had a heart. Nothing
+could ever make you feel. You are a <em>doll!&rdquo;</em></p>
+
+<p>Emily lay on 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 calm, even dignified. Sara hid
+her face in her arms. The rats in the wall began to fight
+and bite each other and squeak and scramble. Melchisedec
+was chastising some of his family.</p>
+
+<p>Sara&rsquo;s sobs gradually quieted themselves. It was so unlike
+her to break down that she was surprised at herself.
+After a while she raised her face and looked at Emily,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+who seemed to be gazing at her round the side of one angle,
+and, somehow, by this time actually with a kind of glassy-eyed
+sympathy. Sara bent and picked her up. Remorse
+overtook her. She even smiled at herself a very little
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t help being a doll,&rdquo; she said with a resigned
+sigh, &ldquo;any more than Lavinia and Jessie can help not having
+any sense. We are not all made alike. Perhaps you
+do your sawdust best.&rdquo; And she kissed her and shook
+her clothes straight, and put her back upon her chair.</p>
+
+<p>She had wished very much that some one would take the
+empty house next door. She wished it because of the
+attic window which was so near hers. It seemed as if it
+would be so nice to see it propped open some day and a
+head and shoulders rising out of the square aperture.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If it looked a nice head,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;I might begin
+by saying, &lsquo;Good morning,&rsquo; and all sorts of things might
+happen. But, of course, it&rsquo;s not really likely that any one
+but under servants would sleep there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One morning, on turning the corner of the square after
+a visit to the grocer&rsquo;s, the butcher&rsquo;s, and the baker&rsquo;s, she saw,
+to her great delight, that during her rather prolonged absence,
+a van full of furniture had stopped before the next
+house, the front doors were thrown open, and men in shirt
+sleeves were going in and out carrying heavy packages and
+pieces of furniture.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s taken!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It really <em>is</em> taken! Oh, I do
+hope a nice head will look out of the attic window!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She would almost have liked to join the group of loiterers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+who had stopped on the pavement to watch the
+things carried in. She had an idea that if she could see
+some of the furniture she could guess something about the
+people it belonged to.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Minchin&rsquo;s tables and chairs are just like her,&rdquo; she
+thought; &ldquo;I remember thinking that the first minute I
+saw her, even though I was so little. I told papa afterward,
+and he laughed and said it was true. I am sure the
+Large Family have fat, comfortable arm-chairs and sofas,
+and I can see that their red-flowery wall-paper is exactly
+like them. It&rsquo;s warm and cheerful and kind-looking and
+happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was sent out for parsley to the greengrocer&rsquo;s later
+in the day, and when she came up the area steps her heart
+gave quite a quick beat of recognition. Several pieces of
+furniture had been set out of the van upon the pavement.
+There was a beautiful table of elaborately wrought teak-wood,
+and some chairs, and a screen covered with rich Oriental
+embroidery. The sight of them gave her a weird,
+homesick feeling. She had seen things so like them in
+India. One of the things Miss Minchin had taken from
+her was a carved teak-wood desk her father had sent her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are beautiful things,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;they look as if
+they ought to belong to a nice person. All the things look
+rather grand. I suppose it is a rich family.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The vans of furniture came and were unloaded and gave
+place to others all the day. Several times it so happened
+that Sara had an opportunity of seeing things carried in.
+It became plain that she had been right in guessing that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+new-comers were people of large means. All the furniture
+was rich and beautiful, and a great deal of it was Oriental.
+Wonderful rugs and draperies and ornaments were taken
+from the vans, many pictures, and books enough for a library.
+Among other things there was a superb god
+Buddha in a splendid shrine.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some one in the family <em>must</em> have been in India,&rdquo; Sara
+thought. &ldquo;They have got used to Indian things and like
+them. I <em>am</em> glad. I shall feel as if they were friends, even
+if a head never looks out of the attic window.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When she was taking in the evening&rsquo;s milk for the cook
+(there was really no odd job she was not called upon to
+do), she saw something occur which made the situation
+more interesting than ever. The handsome, rosy man who
+was the father of the Large Family walked across the
+square in the most matter-of-fact manner, and ran up the
+steps of the next-door house. He ran up them as if he felt
+quite at home and expected to run up and down them
+many a time in the future. He stayed inside quite a long
+time, and several times came out and gave directions to the
+workmen, as if he had a right to do so. It was quite certain
+that he was in some intimate way connected with the new-comers
+and was acting for them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If the new people have children,&rdquo; Sara speculated,
+&ldquo;the Large Family children will be sure to come and play
+with them, and they <em>might</em> come up into the attic just for
+fun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At night, after her work was done, Becky came in to see
+her fellow-prisoner and bring her news.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a&rsquo; Nindian gentleman that&rsquo;s comin&rsquo; to live next
+door, miss,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether he&rsquo;s a black
+gentleman or not, but he&rsquo;s a Nindian one. He&rsquo;s very rich,
+an&rsquo; he&rsquo;s ill, an&rsquo; the gentleman of the Large Family is his
+lawyer. He&rsquo;s had a lot of trouble, an&rsquo; it&rsquo;s made him ill an&rsquo;
+low in his mind. He worships idols, miss. He&rsquo;s an &rsquo;eathen
+an&rsquo; bows down to wood an&rsquo; stone. I seen a&rsquo; idol bein&rsquo; carried
+in for him to worship. Somebody had oughter send
+him a trac&rsquo;. You can get a trac&rsquo; for a penny.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara laughed a little.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe he worships that idol,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;some
+people like to keep them to look at because they are interesting.
+My papa had a beautiful one, and he did not
+worship it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Becky was rather inclined to prefer to believe that
+the new neighbor was &ldquo;an &rsquo;eathen.&rdquo; It sounded so much
+more romantic than that he should merely be the ordinary
+kind of gentleman who went to church with a prayer-book.
+She sat and talked long that night of what he would be like,
+of what his wife would be like if he had one, and of what
+his children would be like if they had children. Sara saw
+that privately she could not help hoping very much that
+they would all be black, and would wear turbans, and,
+above all, that&mdash;like their parent&mdash;they would all be
+&ldquo;&rsquo;eathens.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never lived next door to no &rsquo;eathens, miss,&rdquo; she said;
+&ldquo;I should like to see what sort o&rsquo; ways they&rsquo;d have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was several weeks before her curiosity was satisfied,
+and then it was revealed that the new occupant had neither<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+wife nor children. He was a solitary man with no family
+at all, and it was evident that he was shattered in health
+and unhappy in mind.</p>
+
+<p>A carriage drove up one day and stopped before the
+house. When the footman dismounted from the box and
+opened the door the gentleman who was the father of the
+Large Family got out first. After him there descended
+a nurse in uniform, then came down the steps two men-servants.
+They came to assist their master, who, when he
+was helped out of the carriage, proved to be a man with a
+haggard, distressed face, and a skeleton body wrapped in
+furs. He was carried up the steps, and the head of the
+Large Family went with him, looking very anxious.
+Shortly afterward a doctor&rsquo;s carriage arrived, and the doctor
+went in&mdash;plainly to take care of him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is such a yellow gentleman next door, Sara,&rdquo;
+Lottie whispered at the French class afterward. &ldquo;Do you
+think he is a Chinee? The geography says the Chinee men
+are yellow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, he is not Chinese,&rdquo; Sara whispered back; &ldquo;he is
+very ill. Go on with your exercise, Lottie. &lsquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Non, monsieur.
+Je n&rsquo;ai pas le canif de mon oncle.</i>&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That was the beginning of the story of the Indian gentleman.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XI<br />
+
+<small>RAM DASS</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">There</span> were fine sunsets even in the square, sometimes.
+One could only see parts of them, however,
+between the chimneys and over the roofs.
+From the kitchen windows one could not see them at all,
+and could only guess that they were going on because the
+bricks looked warm and the air rosy or yellow for a while,
+or perhaps one saw a blazing glow strike a particular pane
+of glass somewhere. There was, however, one place from
+which one could see all the splendor of them: the piles of
+red or gold clouds in the west; or the purple ones edged
+with dazzling brightness; or the little fleecy, floating ones,
+tinged with rose-color and looking like flights of pink
+doves scurrying across the blue in a great hurry if there
+was a wind. The place where one could see all this, and
+seem at the same time to breathe a purer air, was, of course,
+the attic window. When the square suddenly seemed to
+begin to glow in an enchanted way and look wonderful
+in spite of its sooty trees and railings, Sara knew something
+was going on in the sky; and when it was at all possible
+to leave the kitchen without being missed or called
+back, she invariably stole away and crept up the flights of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+stairs, and, climbing on the old table, got her head and
+body as far out of the window as possible. When she had
+accomplished this, she always drew a long breath and
+looked all round her. It used to seem as if she had all the
+sky and the world to herself. No one else ever looked out
+of the other attics. Generally the skylights were closed;
+but even if they were propped open to admit air, no one
+seemed to come near them. And there Sara would stand,
+sometimes turning her face upward to the blue which
+seemed so friendly and near,&mdash;just like a lovely vaulted
+ceiling,&mdash;sometimes watching the west and all the wonderful
+things that happened there: the clouds melting or drifting
+or waiting softly to be changed pink or crimson or
+snow-white or purple or pale dove-gray. Sometimes they
+made islands or great mountains enclosing lakes of deep
+turquoise-blue, or liquid amber, or chrysoprase-green;
+sometimes dark headlands jutted into strange, lost seas;
+sometimes slender strips of wonderful lands joined other
+wonderful lands together. There were places where it
+seemed that one could run or climb or stand and wait to see
+what next was coming&mdash;until, perhaps, as it all melted, one
+could float away. At least it seemed so to Sara, and nothing
+had ever been quite so beautiful to her as the things
+she saw as she stood on the table&mdash;her body half out of the
+skylight&mdash;the sparrows twittering with sunset softness on
+the slates. The sparrows always seemed to her to twitter
+with a sort of subdued softness just when these marvels
+were going on.</p>
+
+<p>There was such a sunset as this a few days after the Indian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+gentleman was brought to his new home; and, as it
+fortunately happened that the afternoon&rsquo;s work was done
+in the kitchen and nobody had ordered her to go anywhere
+or perform any task, Sara found it easier than usual to slip
+away and go up-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>She mounted her table and stood looking out. It was
+a wonderful moment. There were floods of molten gold
+covering the west, as if a glorious tide was sweeping over
+the world. A deep, rich yellow light filled the air; the birds
+flying across the tops of the houses showed quite black
+against it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a Splendid one,&rdquo; said Sara, softly, to herself. &ldquo;It
+makes me feel almost afraid&mdash;as if something strange was
+just going to happen. The Splendid ones always make
+me feel like that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She suddenly turned her head because she heard a sound
+a few yards away from her. It was an odd sound like a
+queer little squeaky chattering. It came from the window
+of the next attic. Some one had come to look at the
+sunset as she had. There was a head and part of a body
+emerging from the skylight, but it was not the head or
+body of a little girl or a housemaid; it was the picturesque
+white-swathed form and dark-faced, gleaming-eyed,
+white-turbaned head of a native Indian man-servant,&mdash;&ldquo;a
+Lascar,&rdquo; Sara said to herself quickly,&mdash;and the sound she
+had heard came from a small monkey he held in his arms
+as if he were fond of it, and which was snuggling and
+chattering against his breast.</p>
+
+<p>As Sara looked toward him he looked toward her. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+first thing she thought was that his dark face looked sorrowful
+and homesick. She felt absolutely sure he had
+come up to look at the sun, because he had seen it so seldom
+in England that he longed for a sight of it. She looked at
+him interestedly for a second, and then smiled across the
+slates. She had learned to know how comforting a smile,
+even from a stranger, may be.</p>
+
+<p>Hers was evidently a pleasure to him. His whole expression
+altered, and he showed such gleaming white
+teeth as he smiled back that it was as if a light had been
+illuminated in his dusky face. The friendly look in Sara&rsquo;s
+eyes was always very effective when people felt tired or
+dull.</p>
+
+<p>It was perhaps in making his salute to her that he loosened
+his hold on the monkey. He was an impish monkey
+and always ready for adventure, and it is probable that the
+sight of a little girl excited him. He suddenly broke loose,
+jumped on to the slates, ran across them chattering, and
+actually leaped on to Sara&rsquo;s shoulder, and from there
+down into her attic room. It made her laugh and delighted
+her; but she knew he must be restored to his master,&mdash;if
+the Lascar was his master,&mdash;and she wondered how
+this was to be done. Would he let her catch him, or would
+he be naughty and refuse to be caught, and perhaps get
+away and run off over the roofs and be lost? That would
+not do at all. Perhaps he belonged to the Indian gentleman,
+and the poor man was fond of him.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to the Lascar, feeling glad that she remembered
+still some of the Hindustani she had learned when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+she lived with her father. She could make the man understand.
+She spoke to him in the language he knew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will he let me catch him?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>She thought she had never seen more surprise and delight
+than the dark face expressed when she spoke in the
+familiar tongue. The truth was that the poor fellow felt
+as if his gods had intervened, and the kind little voice came
+from heaven itself. At once Sara saw that he had been
+accustomed to European children. He poured forth a
+flood of respectful thanks. He was the servant of Missee
+Sahib. The monkey was a good monkey and would not
+bite; but, unfortunately, he was difficult to catch. He
+would flee from one spot to another, like the lightning.
+He was disobedient, though not evil. Ram Dass knew
+him as if he were his child, and Ram Dass he would sometimes
+obey, but not always. If Missee Sahib would permit
+Ram Dass, he himself could cross the roof to her room,
+enter the windows, and regain the unworthy little animal.
+But he was evidently afraid Sara might think he was taking
+a great liberty and perhaps would not let him come.</p>
+
+<p>But Sara gave him leave at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you get across?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In a moment,&rdquo; he answered her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then come,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;he is flying from side to side
+of the room as if he was frightened.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ram Dass slipped through his attic window and crossed
+to hers as steadily and lightly as if he had walked on roofs
+all his life. He slipped through the skylight and dropped
+upon his feet without a sound. Then he turned to Sara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+and salaamed again. The monkey saw him and uttered
+a little scream. Ram Dass hastily took the precaution of
+shutting the skylight, and then went in chase of him. It
+was not a very long chase. The monkey prolonged it a
+few minutes evidently for the mere fun of it, but presently
+he sprang chattering on to Ram Dass&rsquo;s shoulder and sat
+there chattering and clinging to his neck with a weird
+little skinny arm.</p>
+
+<p>Ram Dass thanked Sara profoundly. She had seen
+that his quick native eyes had taken in at a glance all the
+bare shabbiness of the room, but he spoke to her as if he
+were speaking to the little daughter of a rajah, and pretended
+that he observed nothing. He did not presume to
+remain more than a few moments after he had caught the
+monkey, and those moments were given to further deep
+and grateful obeisance to her in return for her indulgence.
+This little evil one, he said, stroking the monkey, was, in
+truth, not so evil as he seemed, and his master, who was ill,
+was sometimes amused by him. He would have been made
+sad if his favorite had run away and been lost. Then he
+salaamed once more and got through the skylight and
+across the slates again with as much agility as the monkey
+himself had displayed.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone Sara stood in the middle of her attic
+and thought of many things his face and his manner had
+brought back to her. The sight of his native costume and
+the profound reverence of his manner stirred all her past
+memories. It seemed a strange thing to remember that
+she&mdash;the drudge whom the cook had said insulting things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+to an hour ago&mdash;had only a few years ago been surrounded
+by people who all treated her as Ram Dass had treated her;
+who salaamed when she went by, whose foreheads almost
+touched the ground when she spoke to them, who were her
+servants and her slaves. It was like a sort of dream. It
+was all over, and it could never come back. It certainly
+seemed that there was no way in which any change could
+take place. She knew what Miss Minchin intended that
+her future should be. So long as she was too young to be
+used as a regular teacher, she would be used as an errand
+girl and servant and yet expected to remember what she
+had learned and in some mysterious way to learn more.
+The greater number of her evenings she was supposed to
+spend at study, and at various indefinite intervals she was
+examined and knew she would have been severely admonished
+if she had not advanced as was expected of her. The
+truth, indeed, was that Miss Minchin knew that she was
+too anxious to learn to require teachers. Give her books,
+and she would devour them and end by knowing them by
+heart. She might be trusted to be equal to teaching a
+good deal in the course of a few years. This was what
+would happen: when she was older she would be expected
+to drudge in the school-room as she drudged now in various
+parts of the house; they would be obliged to give her more
+respectable clothes, but they would be sure to be plain and
+ugly and to make her look somehow like a servant. That
+was all there seemed to be to look forward to, and Sara
+stood quite still for several minutes and thought it over.</p>
+
+<p>Then a thought came back to her which made the color<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+rise in her cheek and a spark light itself in her eyes. She
+straightened her thin little body and lifted her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whatever comes,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;cannot alter one thing.
+If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess
+inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed
+in cloth of gold, but 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 Widow
+Capet. She was a great deal more like a queen then than
+when she was so gay and everything was so 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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was not a new thought, but quite an old one, by this
+time. It had consoled her through many a bitter day, and
+she had gone about the house with an expression in her
+face which Miss Minchin could not understand and which
+was a source of great annoyance to her, as it seemed as if
+the child were mentally living a life which held her above
+the rest of the world. It was as if she scarcely heard the
+rude and acid things said to her; or, if she heard them, did
+not care for them at all. Sometimes, when she was in the
+midst of some harsh, domineering speech, Miss Minchin
+would find the still, 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>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know that you are saying these things to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+princess, and that if I chose I could wave my hand and
+order you to execution. I only spare you because I <em>am</em>
+a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, unkind, vulgar
+old thing, and don&rsquo;t know any better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This used to interest and amuse her more than anything
+else; and queer and fanciful as it was, she found comfort
+in it and it was a good thing for her. While the thought
+held possession of her, she could not be made rude and malicious
+by the rudeness and malice of those about her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A princess must be polite,&rdquo; she said to herself.</p>
+
+<p>And so when the servants, taking their tone from their
+mistress, were insolent and ordered her about, she would
+hold her head erect and reply to them with a quaint civility
+which often made them stare at her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s got more airs and graces than if she come from
+Buckingham Palace, that young one,&rdquo; said the cook,
+chuckling a little sometimes; &ldquo;I lose my temper with her
+often enough, but I will say she never forgets her manners.
+&lsquo;If you please, cook;&rsquo; &lsquo;Will you be so kind, cook?&rsquo;
+&lsquo;I beg your pardon, cook;&rsquo; &lsquo;May I trouble you, cook?&rsquo;
+She drops &rsquo;em about the kitchen as if they was nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The morning after the interview with Ram Dass and his
+monkey, Sara was in the school-room with her small pupils.
+Having finished giving them their lessons, she was putting
+the French exercise-books together and thinking, as
+she did it, of the various things royal personages in disguise
+were called upon to do: Alfred the Great, for instance,
+burning the cakes and getting his ears boxed by the wife
+of the neatherd. How frightened she must have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+when she found out what she had done. If Miss Minchin
+should find out that she&mdash;Sara, whose toes were almost
+sticking out of her boots&mdash;was a princess&mdash;a real one!
+The look in her eyes was exactly the look which Miss Minchin
+most disliked. She would not have it; she was quite
+near her and was so enraged that she actually flew at her
+and boxed her ears&mdash;exactly as the neatherd&rsquo;s wife had
+boxed King Alfred&rsquo;s. It made Sara start. She wakened
+from her dream at the shock, and, catching her breath,
+stood still a second. Then, not knowing she was going to
+do it, she broke into a little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you laughing at, you bold, impudent child?&rdquo;
+Miss Minchin exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>It took Sara a few seconds to control herself sufficiently
+to remember that she was a princess. Her cheeks were red
+and smarting from the blows she had received.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was thinking,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beg my pardon immediately,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin.</p>
+
+<p>Sara hesitated a second before she replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will beg your pardon for laughing, if it was rude,&rdquo;
+she said then; &ldquo;but I won&rsquo;t beg your pardon for thinking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What were you thinking?&rdquo; demanded Miss Minchin.
+&ldquo;How dare you think? What were you thinking?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jessie tittered, and she and Lavinia nudged each other
+in unison. All the girls looked up from their books to
+listen. Really, it always interested them a little when Miss
+Minchin attacked Sara. Sara always said something
+queer, and never seemed the least bit frightened. She was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+not in the least frightened now, though her boxed ears
+were scarlet and her eyes were as bright as stars.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was thinking,&rdquo; she answered grandly and politely,
+&ldquo;that you did not know what you were doing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I did not know what I was doing?&rdquo; Miss Minchin
+fairly gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;and I was thinking what would
+happen if I were a princess and you boxed my ears&mdash;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&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had the imagined future so clearly before her eyes
+that she spoke in a manner which had an effect even upon
+Miss Minchin. It almost seemed for the moment to her
+narrow, unimaginative mind that there must be some real
+power hidden behind this candid daring.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Found out what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I really was a princess,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;and could
+do anything&mdash;anything I liked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Every pair of eyes in the room widened to its full limit.
+Lavinia leaned forward on her seat to look.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go to your room,&rdquo; cried Miss Minchin, breathlessly,
+&ldquo;this instant! Leave the school-room! Attend to your
+lessons, young ladies!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara made a little bow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Excuse me for laughing if it was impolite,&rdquo; she said,
+and walked out of the room, leaving Miss Minchin struggling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+with her rage, and the girls whispering over their
+books.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see her? Did you see how queer she looked?&rdquo;
+Jessie broke out. &ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t be at all surprised if she
+did turn out to be something. Suppose she should!&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XII<br />
+
+<small>THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">When</span> one lives in a row of houses, it is interesting
+to think of the things which are being
+done and said on the other side of the wall of
+the very rooms one is living in. Sara was fond of amusing
+herself by trying to imagine the things hidden by the
+wall which divided the Select Seminary from the Indian
+gentleman&rsquo;s house. She knew that the school-room was
+next to the Indian gentleman&rsquo;s study, and she hoped that
+the wall was thick so that the noise made sometimes after
+lesson hours would not disturb him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am growing quite fond of him,&rdquo; she said to Ermengarde;
+&ldquo;I should not like him to be disturbed. I have
+adopted him for a friend. You can do that with people
+you never speak to at all. You can just watch them, and
+think about them and be sorry for them, until they seem
+almost like relations. I&rsquo;m quite anxious sometimes when
+I see the doctor call twice a day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have very few relations,&rdquo; said Ermengarde, reflectively,
+&ldquo;and I&rsquo;m very glad of it. I don&rsquo;t like those I
+have. My two aunts are always saying, &lsquo;Dear me, Ermengarde!
+You are very fat. You shouldn&rsquo;t eat sweets,&rsquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+and my uncle is always asking me things like, &lsquo;When did
+Edward the Third ascend the throne?&rsquo; and, &lsquo;Who died of
+a surfeit of lampreys?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;People you never speak to can&rsquo;t ask you questions like
+that,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;and I&rsquo;m sure the Indian gentleman
+wouldn&rsquo;t even if he was quite intimate with you. I am
+fond of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had become fond of the Large Family because they
+looked happy; but she had become fond of the Indian
+gentleman because he looked unhappy. He had evidently
+not fully recovered from some very severe illness. In the
+kitchen&mdash;where, of course, the servants, through some mysterious
+means, knew everything&mdash;there was much discussion
+of his case. He was not an Indian gentleman really,
+but an Englishman who had lived in India. He had met
+with great misfortunes which had for a time so imperilled
+his whole fortune that he had thought himself ruined and
+disgraced forever. The shock had been so great that he
+had almost died of brain-fever; and ever since he had been
+shattered in health, though his fortunes had changed and
+all his possessions had been restored to him. His trouble
+and peril had been connected with mines.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And mines with diamonds in &rsquo;em!&rdquo; said the cook.
+&ldquo;No savin&rsquo;s of mine never goes into no mines&mdash;particular
+diamond ones&rdquo;&mdash;with a side glance at Sara. &ldquo;We all
+know somethin&rsquo; of <em>them</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He felt as my papa felt,&rdquo; Sara thought. &ldquo;He was ill
+as my papa was; but he did not die.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So her heart was more drawn to him than before. When
+she was sent out at night she used sometimes to feel quite
+glad, because there was always a chance that the curtains
+of the house next door might not yet be closed and she
+could look into the warm room and see her adopted friend.
+When no one was about she used sometimes to stop, and,
+holding to the iron railings, wish him good night as if he
+could hear her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps you can <em>feel</em> if you can&rsquo;t hear,&rdquo; was her fancy.
+&ldquo;Perhaps kind thoughts reach people somehow, even
+through windows and doors and walls. Perhaps you feel
+a little warm and comforted, and don&rsquo;t know why, when I
+am standing here in the cold and hoping you will get well
+and happy again. I am so sorry for you,&rdquo; she would whisper
+in an intense little voice. &ldquo;I wish you had a &lsquo;Little
+Missus&rsquo; who could pet you as I used to pet papa when he
+had a headache. I should like to be your &lsquo;Little Missus&rsquo;
+myself, poor dear! Good night&mdash;good night. God bless
+you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She would go away, feeling quite comforted and a little
+warmer herself. Her sympathy was so strong that it
+seemed as if it <em>must</em> reach him somehow as he sat alone in
+his arm-chair by the fire, nearly always in a great dressing-gown,
+and nearly always with his forehead resting in his
+hand as he gazed hopelessly into the fire. He looked to
+Sara like a man who had a trouble on his mind still, not
+merely like one whose troubles lay all in the past.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He always seems as if he were thinking of something
+that hurts him <em>now</em>,&rdquo; she said to herself; &ldquo;but he has got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+his money back and he will get over his brain-fever in time,
+so he ought not to look like that. I wonder if there is
+something else.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If there was something else,&mdash;something even servants
+did not hear of,&mdash;she could not help believing that the father
+of the Large Family knew it&mdash;the gentleman she
+called Mr. Montmorency. Mr. Montmorency went to see
+him often, and Mrs. Montmorency and all the little Montmorencys
+went, too, though less often. He seemed particularly
+fond of the two elder little girls&mdash;the Janet and
+Nora who had been so alarmed when their small brother
+Donald had given Sara his sixpence. He had, in fact, a
+very tender place in his heart for all children, and particularly
+for little girls. Janet and Nora were as fond of him
+as he was of them, and looked forward with the greatest
+pleasure to the afternoons when they were allowed to cross
+the square and make their well-behaved little visits to him.
+They were extremely decorous little visits because he was
+an invalid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is a poor thing,&rdquo; said Janet, &ldquo;and he says we cheer
+him up. We try to cheer him up very quietly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Janet was the head of the family, and kept the rest of
+it in order. It was she who decided when it was discreet
+to ask the Indian gentleman to tell stories about India, and
+it was she who saw when he was tired and it was the time to
+steal quietly away and tell Ram Dass to go to him. They
+were very fond of Ram Dass. He could have told any
+number of stories if he had been able to speak anything but
+Hindustani. The Indian gentleman&rsquo;s real name was Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+Carrisford, and Janet told Mr. Carrisford about the
+encounter with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. He
+was very much interested, and all the more so when he
+heard from Ram Dass of the adventure of the monkey on
+the roof. Ram Dass made for him a very clear picture
+of the attic and its desolateness&mdash;of the bare floor and
+broken plaster, the rusty, empty grate, and the hard, narrow
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Carmichael,&rdquo; he said to the father of the Large Family,
+after he had heard this description; &ldquo;I wonder how many
+of the attics in this square are like that one, and how many
+wretched little servant girls sleep on such beds, while I toss
+on my down pillows, loaded and harassed by wealth that is,
+most of it&mdash;not mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear fellow,&rdquo; Mr. Carmichael answered cheerily,
+&ldquo;the sooner you cease tormenting yourself the better it
+will be for you. If you possessed all the wealth of all the
+Indies, you could not set right all the discomforts in the
+world, and if you began to refurnish all the attics in this
+square, there would still remain all the attics in all the
+other squares and streets to put in order. And there you
+are!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carrisford sat and bit his nails as he looked into the
+glowing bed of coals in the grate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you suppose,&rdquo; he said slowly, after a pause&mdash;&ldquo;do
+you think it is possible that the other child&mdash;the child I
+never cease thinking of, I believe&mdash;could be&mdash;could <em>possibly</em>
+be reduced to any such condition as the poor little
+soul next door?&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael looked at him uneasily. He knew that
+the worst thing the man could do for himself, for his reason
+and his health, was to begin to think in this particular
+way of this particular subject.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If the child at Madame Pascal&rsquo;s school in Paris was
+the one you are in search of,&rdquo; he answered soothingly,
+&ldquo;she would seem to be in the hands of people who can
+afford to take care of her. They adopted her because she
+had been the favorite companion of their little daughter
+who died. They had no other children, and Madame Pascal
+said that they were extremely well-to-do Russians.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the wretched woman actually did not know where
+they had taken her!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Carrisford.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She was a shrewd, worldly Frenchwoman, and was
+evidently only too glad to get the child so comfortably off
+her hands when the father&rsquo;s death left her totally unprovided
+for. Women of her type do not trouble themselves
+about the futures of children who might prove burdens.
+The adopted parents apparently disappeared and left no
+trace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you say &lsquo;<em>if&rsquo;</em> the child was the one I am in search
+of. You say &lsquo;if.&rsquo; We are not sure. There was a difference
+in the name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Madame Pascal pronounced it as if it were Carew instead
+of Crewe,&mdash;but that might be merely a matter of
+pronunciation. The circumstances were curiously similar.
+An English officer in India had placed his motherless
+little girl at the school. He had died suddenly after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+losing his fortune.&rdquo; Mr. Carmichael paused a moment, as
+if a new thought had occurred to him. &ldquo;Are you <em>sure</em> the
+child was left at a school in Paris? Are you sure it was
+Paris?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear fellow,&rdquo; broke forth Carrisford, with restless
+bitterness, &ldquo;I am <em>sure</em> of nothing. I never saw either
+the child or her mother. Ralph Crewe and I loved each
+other as boys, but we had not met since our school-days,
+until we met in India. I was absorbed in the magnificent
+promise of the mines. He became absorbed, too. The
+whole thing was so huge and glittering that we half lost
+our heads. When we met we scarcely spoke of anything
+else. I only knew that the child had been sent to school
+somewhere. I do not even remember, now, <em>how</em> I knew it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was beginning to be excited. He always became
+excited when his still weakened brain was stirred by memories
+of the catastrophes of the past.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael watched him anxiously. It was necessary
+to ask some questions, but they must be put quietly
+and with caution.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you had reason to think the school <em>was</em> in Paris?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the answer, &ldquo;because her mother was a
+Frenchwoman, and I had heard that she wished her child
+to be educated in Paris. It seemed only likely that she
+would be there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Mr. Carmichael said, &ldquo;it seems more than probable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman leaned forward and struck the
+table with a long, wasted hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Carmichael,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I <em>must</em> find her. If she is alive,
+she is somewhere. If she is friendless and penniless, it
+is through my fault. How is a man to get back his nerve
+with a thing like that on his mind? This sudden change of
+luck at the mines has made realities of all our most fantastic
+dreams, and poor Crewe&rsquo;s child may be begging in the
+street!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said Carmichael. &ldquo;Try to be calm. Console
+yourself with the fact that when she is found you have
+a fortune to hand over to her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why was I not man enough to stand my ground when
+things looked black?&rdquo; Carrisford groaned in petulant
+misery. &ldquo;I believe I should have stood my ground if I
+had not been responsible for other people&rsquo;s money as well
+as my own. Poor Crewe had put into the scheme every
+penny that he owned. He trusted me&mdash;he <em>loved</em> me. And
+he died thinking I had ruined him&mdash;I&mdash;Tom Carrisford,
+who played cricket at Eton with him. What a villain he
+must have thought me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t reproach yourself so bitterly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t reproach myself because the speculation threatened
+to fail&mdash;I reproach myself for losing my courage. I
+ran away like a swindler and a thief, because I could not
+face my best friend and tell him I had ruined him and his
+child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The good-hearted father of the Large Family put his
+hand on his shoulder comfortingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ran away because your brain had given way under
+the strain of mental torture,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You were half delirious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
+already. If you had not been you would have
+stayed and fought it out. You were in a hospital, strapped
+down in bed, raving with brain-fever, two days after you
+left the place. Remember that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Carrisford dropped his forehead in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good God! Yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I was driven mad with
+dread and horror. I had not slept for weeks. The night
+I staggered out of my house all the air seemed full of
+hideous things mocking and mouthing at me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is explanation enough in itself,&rdquo; said Mr. Carmichael.
+&ldquo;How could a man on the verge of brain-fever
+judge sanely!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Carrisford shook his drooping head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And when I returned to consciousness poor Crewe was
+dead&mdash;and buried. And I seemed to remember nothing.
+I did not remember the child for months and months.
+Even when I began to recall her existence everything
+seemed in a sort of haze.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stopped a moment and rubbed his forehead. &ldquo;It
+sometimes seems so now when I try to remember. Surely
+I must sometime have heard Crewe speak of the school she
+was sent to. Don&rsquo;t you think so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He might not have spoken of it definitely. You never
+seem even to have heard her real name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He used to call her by an odd pet name he had invented.
+He called her his &lsquo;Little Missus.&rsquo; But the
+wretched mines drove everything else out of our heads.
+We talked of nothing else. If he spoke of the school, I
+forgot&mdash;I forgot. And now I shall never remember.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, come,&rdquo; said Carmichael. &ldquo;We shall find her
+yet. We will continue to search for Madame Pascal&rsquo;s
+good-natured Russians. She seemed to have a vague idea
+that they lived in Moscow. We will take that as a clue. I
+will go to Moscow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I were able to travel, I would go with you,&rdquo; said
+Carrisford; &ldquo;but I can only sit here wrapped in furs and
+stare at the fire. And when I look into it I seem to see
+Crewe&rsquo;s gay young face gazing back at me. He looks as
+if he were asking me a question. Sometimes I dream of
+him at night, and he always stands before me and asks the
+same question in words. Can you guess what he says,
+Carmichael?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael answered him in a rather low voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not exactly,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He always says, &lsquo;Tom, old man&mdash;Tom&mdash;where is the
+Little Missus?&rsquo;&rdquo; He caught at Carmichael&rsquo;s hand and
+clung to it. &ldquo;I must be able to answer him&mdash;I must!&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Help me to find her. Help me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="dot">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</p>
+
+<p>On the other side of the wall Sara was sitting in her
+garret talking to Melchisedec, who had come out for his
+evening meal.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It has been hard to be a princess to-day, Melchisedec,&rdquo;
+she said. &ldquo;It has been harder than usual. It gets harder
+as the weather grows colder and the streets get more
+sloppy. When Lavinia laughed at my muddy skirt as I
+passed her in the hall, I thought of something to say all
+in a flash&mdash;and I only just stopped myself in time. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
+can&rsquo;t sneer back at people like that&mdash;if you are a princess.
+But you have to bite your tongue to hold yourself in. I
+bit mine. It was a cold afternoon, Melchisedec. And it&rsquo;s
+a cold night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Quite suddenly she put her black head down in her
+arms, as she often did when she was alone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, papa,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;what a long time it seems
+since I was your &lsquo;Little Missus&rsquo;!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was what happened that day on both sides of the
+wall.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII<br />
+
+<small>ONE OF THE POPULACE</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> winter was a wretched one. There were days on
+which Sara tramped through snow when she went
+on her errands; there were worse days when the
+snow melted and combined itself with mud to form slush;
+there were others when the fog was so thick that the lamps
+in the street were lighted all day and London looked as it
+had looked the afternoon, several years ago, when the cab
+had driven through the thoroughfares with Sara tucked up
+on its seat, leaning against her father&rsquo;s shoulder. On such
+days the windows of the house of the Large Family always
+looked delightfully cosey and alluring, and the study
+in which the Indian gentleman sat glowed with warmth
+and rich color. But the attic was dismal beyond words.
+There were no longer sunsets or sunrises to look at, and
+scarcely ever any stars, it seemed to Sara. The clouds
+hung low over the skylight and were either gray or mud-color,
+or dropping heavy rain. At four o&rsquo;clock in the afternoon,
+even when there was no special fog, the daylight
+was at an end. If it was necessary to go to her attic for
+anything, Sara was obliged to light a candle. The women
+in the kitchen were depressed, and that made them more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+ill-tempered than ever. Becky was driven like a little
+slave.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;T warn&rsquo;t for you, miss,&rdquo; she said hoarsely to Sara one
+night when she had crept into the attic&mdash;&ldquo;&rsquo;t warn&rsquo;t for you,
+an&rsquo; the Bastille, an&rsquo; bein&rsquo; the prisoner in the next cell, I
+should die. That there does seem real now, doesn&rsquo;t it?
+The missus is more like the head jailer every day she lives.
+I can jest see them big keys you say she carries. The cook
+she&rsquo;s like one of the under-jailers. Tell me some more,
+please, miss&mdash;tell me about the subt&rsquo;ranean passage we&rsquo;ve
+dug under the walls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you something warmer,&rdquo; shivered Sara. &ldquo;Get
+your coverlet and wrap it round you, and I&rsquo;ll get mine,
+and we will huddle close together on the bed, and I&rsquo;ll tell
+you about the tropical forest where the Indian gentleman&rsquo;s
+monkey used to live. When I see him sitting on the table
+near the window and looking out into the street with that
+mournful expression, I always feel sure he is thinking
+about the tropical forest where he used to swing by his
+tail from cocoanut-trees. I wonder who caught him, and if
+he left a family behind who had depended on him for
+cocoanuts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is warmer, miss,&rdquo; said Becky, gratefully; &ldquo;but,
+someways, even the Bastille is sort of heatin&rsquo; when you
+gets to tellin&rsquo; about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is because it makes you think of something else,&rdquo;
+said Sara, wrapping the coverlet round her until only her
+small dark face was to be seen looking out of it. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+noticed this. What you have to do with your mind, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+your body is miserable, is to make it think of something
+else.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you do it, miss?&rdquo; faltered Becky, regarding her
+with admiring eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Sara knitted her brows a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sometimes I <em>can</em> and sometimes I can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; she said
+stoutly. &ldquo;But when I can I&rsquo;m all right. And what I believe
+is that we always could&mdash;if we practised enough.
+I&rsquo;ve been practising a good deal lately, and it&rsquo;s beginning
+to be easier than it used to be. When things are horrible&mdash;just
+horrible&mdash;I think as hard as ever I can of being a princess.
+I say to myself, &lsquo;I am a princess, and I am a fairy
+one, and because I am a fairy nothing can hurt me or make
+me uncomfortable.&rsquo; You don&rsquo;t know how it makes you
+forget,&rdquo;&mdash;with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>She had many opportunities of making her mind think
+of something else, and many opportunities of proving to
+herself whether or not she was a princess. But one of the
+strongest tests she was ever put to came on a certain dreadful
+day which, she often thought afterward, would never
+quite fade out of her memory even in the years to come.</p>
+
+<p>For several days it had rained continuously; the streets
+were chilly and sloppy and full of dreary, cold mist; there
+was mud everywhere,&mdash;sticky London mud,&mdash;and over
+everything the pall of drizzle and fog. Of course there
+were several long and tiresome errands to be done,&mdash;there
+always were on days like this,&mdash;and Sara was sent out
+again and again, until her shabby clothes were damp
+through. The absurd old feathers on her forlorn hat were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+more draggled and absurd than ever, and her downtrodden
+shoes were so wet that they could not hold any more water.
+Added to this, she had been deprived of her dinner, because
+Miss Minchin had chosen to punish her. She was
+so cold and hungry and tired that her face began to have
+a pinched look, and now and then some kind-hearted person
+passing her in the street glanced at her with sudden
+sympathy. But she did not know that. She hurried on,
+trying to make her mind think of something else. It was
+really very necessary. Her way of doing it was to &ldquo;pretend&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;suppose&rdquo; with all the strength that was left in
+her. 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, and as the muddy water squelched
+through her broken shoes and the wind seemed trying to
+drag her thin jacket from her, she talked to herself as she
+walked, though she did not speak aloud or even move her
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose I had dry clothes on,&rdquo; she thought. &ldquo;Suppose
+I had good shoes and a long, thick coat and merino
+stockings and a whole umbrella. And suppose&mdash;suppose&mdash;just
+when I was near a baker&rsquo;s where they sold hot buns,
+I should find sixpence&mdash;which belonged to nobody. <em>Suppose</em>,
+if I did, I should go into the shop and buy six of the
+hottest buns and eat them all without stopping.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Some very odd things happen in this world sometimes.</p>
+
+<p>It certainly was an odd thing that happened to Sara.
+She had to cross the street just when she was saying this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+to herself. The mud was dreadful&mdash;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&mdash;just as she reached the pavement&mdash;she saw
+something shining in the gutter. It was actually a piece
+of silver&mdash;a tiny piece trodden upon by many feet, but still
+with spirit enough left to shine a little. Not quite a sixpence,
+but the next thing to it&mdash;a fourpenny piece.</p>
+
+<p>In one second it was in her cold little red-and-blue hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she gasped, &ldquo;it is true! It is true!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And then, if you will believe me, she looked straight at
+the shop directly facing her. And it was a baker&rsquo;s shop,
+and a cheerful, stout, motherly woman with rosy cheeks was
+putting into the window a tray of delicious newly baked
+hot buns, fresh from the oven&mdash;large, plump, shiny buns,
+with currants in them.</p>
+
+<p>It almost made Sara feel faint for a few seconds&mdash;the
+shock, and the sight of the buns, and the delightful odors
+of warm bread floating up through the baker&rsquo;s cellar
+window.</p>
+
+<p>She knew 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 stream of
+passing people who crowded and jostled each other all day
+long.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I&rsquo;ll go and ask the baker woman if she has lost
+anything,&rdquo; she said to herself, rather faintly. So she
+crossed the pavement and put her wet foot on the step. As
+she did so she saw something that made her stop.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was a little figure more forlorn even than herself&mdash;a
+little figure which was not much more than a bundle of rags,
+from which small, bare, red muddy feet peeped out, only
+because the rags with which their owner was trying to cover
+them were not long enough. Above the rags appeared a
+shock head of tangled hair, and a dirty face with big,
+hollow, hungry eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Sara knew they were hungry eyes the moment she saw
+them, and she felt a sudden sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This,&rdquo; she said to herself, with a little sigh, &ldquo;is one of
+the populace&mdash;and she is hungrier than I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child&mdash;this &ldquo;one of the populace&rdquo;&mdash;stared up at
+Sara, and shuffled herself aside a little, so as to give her
+room to pass. 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 &ldquo;move on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara clutched her little fourpenny piece and hesitated
+a few seconds. Then she spoke to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you hungry?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>The child shuffled herself and her rags a little more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t I jist?&rdquo; she said in a hoarse voice. &ldquo;Jist ain&rsquo;t I?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you had any dinner?&rdquo; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No dinner,&rdquo;&mdash;more hoarsely still and with more shuffling.
+&ldquo;Nor yet no bre&rsquo;fast&mdash;nor yet no supper. No
+nothin&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Since when?&rdquo; asked Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dunno. Never got nothin&rsquo; to-day&mdash;nowhere. I&rsquo;ve
+axed an&rsquo; axed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Just to look at her made Sara more hungry and faint.
+But those queer little thoughts were at work in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+brain, and she was talking to herself, though she was sick
+at heart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I&rsquo;m a princess,&rdquo; she was saying&mdash;&ldquo;if I&rsquo;m a princess&mdash;when
+they were poor and driven from their thrones&mdash;they
+always shared&mdash;with the populace&mdash;if they met one
+poorer and hungrier than themselves. They always shared.
+Buns are a penny each. If it had been sixpence I could
+have eaten six. It won&rsquo;t be enough for either of us. But
+it will be better than nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute,&rdquo; she said to the beggar child.</p>
+
+<p>She went into the shop. It was warm and smelled deliciously.
+The woman was just going to put some more hot
+buns into the window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you please,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;have you lost fourpence&mdash;a
+silver fourpence?&rdquo; And she held the forlorn little piece
+of money out to her.</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked at it and then at her&mdash;at her intense
+little face and draggled, once fine clothes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless us! no,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;Did you find it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;In the gutter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep it, then,&rdquo; said the woman. &ldquo;It may have been
+there for a week, and goodness knows who lost it. <em>You</em>
+could never find out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know that,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;but I thought I would ask
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not many would,&rdquo; said the woman, looking puzzled
+and interested and good-natured all at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you want to buy something?&rdquo; she added, as she saw
+Sara glance at the buns.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Four buns, if you please,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;Those at a
+penny each.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The woman went to the window and put some in a paper
+bag.</p>
+
+<p>Sara noticed that she put in six.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I said four, if you please,&rdquo; she explained. &ldquo;I have
+only fourpence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll throw in two for makeweight,&rdquo; said the woman,
+with her good-natured look. &ldquo;I dare say you can eat them
+sometime. Aren&rsquo;t you hungry?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A mist rose before Sara&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;I am very hungry, and I am
+much obliged to you for your kindness; and&rdquo;&mdash;she was
+going to add&mdash;&ldquo;there is a child outside who is hungrier
+than I am.&rdquo; 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>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="illus190" id="illus190"></a>
+<img src="images/illus190.jpg" width="400" height="533" alt="The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner." title="" />
+<br /><span class="caption">The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner of
+the step. She looked frightful in her wet and dirty rags.
+She was staring straight before her with a stupid look of
+suffering, 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 own cold hands a
+little.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See,&rdquo; she said, putting the bun in the ragged lap, &ldquo;this
+is nice and hot. Eat it, and you will not feel so hungry.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The child started and stared up at her, as if such sudden,
+amazing good luck almost frightened her; then she
+snatched up the bun and began to cram it into her mouth
+with great wolfish bites.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, my! Oh, my!&rdquo; Sara heard her say hoarsely, in
+wild delight. &ldquo;<em>Oh, my!</em>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara took out three more buns and put them down.</p>
+
+<p>The sound in the hoarse, ravenous voice was awful.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is hungrier than I am,&rdquo; she said to herself. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s
+starving.&rdquo; But her hand trembled when she put down the
+fourth bun. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not starving,&rdquo; she said&mdash;and she put
+down the fifth.</p>
+
+<p>The little ravening London savage was still snatching
+and devouring when she turned away. She was too ravenous
+to give any thanks, even if she had ever been taught
+politeness&mdash;which she had not. She was only a poor little
+wild animal.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good-by,&rdquo; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the other side of the street she looked
+back. The child had a bun in each hand and had stopped
+in the middle of a bite to watch her. Sara gave her a little
+nod, and the child, after another stare,&mdash;a curious lingering
+stare,&mdash;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 looked out of her shop
+window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I never!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;If that young un
+hasn&rsquo;t given her buns to a beggar child! It wasn&rsquo;t because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+she didn&rsquo;t want them, either. Well, well, she looked hungry
+enough. I&rsquo;d give something to know what she did it
+for.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>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>&ldquo;Who gave you those buns?&rdquo; she asked her.</p>
+
+<p>The child nodded her head toward Sara&rsquo;s vanishing
+figure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did she say?&rdquo; inquired the woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Axed me if I was &rsquo;ungry,&rdquo; replied the hoarse voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did you say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Said I was jist.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And then she came in and got the buns, and gave them
+to you, did she?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The child nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How many?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Five.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The woman thought it over.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Left just one for herself,&rdquo; she said in a low voice.
+&ldquo;And she could have eaten the whole six&mdash;I saw it in her
+eyes.&rdquo;</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>&ldquo;I wish she hadn&rsquo;t gone so quick,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+blest if she shouldn&rsquo;t have had a dozen.&rdquo; Then she turned
+to the child.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you hungry yet?&rdquo; she said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m allus hungry,&rdquo; was the answer, &ldquo;but &rsquo;tain&rsquo;t as bad
+as it was.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come in here,&rdquo; 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>&ldquo;Get yourself warm,&rdquo; said the woman, pointing to a
+fire in the tiny back room. &ldquo;And look here; when you are
+hard up for a bit of bread, you can come in here and ask
+for it. I&rsquo;m blest if I won&rsquo;t give it to you for that young
+one&rsquo;s sake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="dot">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</p>
+
+<p>Sara found some comfort in her remaining bun. At all
+events, it was very hot, and it was better than nothing. As
+she walked along she broke off small pieces and ate them
+slowly to make them last longer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose it was a magic bun,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and a bite was
+as much as a whole dinner. I should be overeating myself
+if I went on like this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was dark when she reached the square where the Select
+Seminary was situated. The lights in the houses were all
+lighted. The blinds were not yet drawn in the windows
+of the room where she nearly always caught glimpses
+of members of the Large Family. Frequently at this hour
+she could see the gentleman she called Mr. Montmorency
+sitting in a big chair, with a small swarm round him, talking,
+laughing, perching on the arms of his seat or on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+knees or leaning against them. This evening the swarm
+was about him, but he was not seated. On the contrary,
+there was a good deal of excitement going on. It was evident
+that a journey was to be taken, and it was Mr. Montmorency
+who was to take it. A brougham stood before the
+door, and a big portmanteau had been strapped upon it.
+The children were dancing about, chattering and hanging
+on to their father. The pretty rosy mother was standing
+near him, talking as if she was asking final questions. Sara
+paused a moment to see the little ones lifted up and kissed
+and the bigger ones bent over and kissed also.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder if he will stay away long,&rdquo; she thought.
+&ldquo;The portmanteau is rather big. Oh, dear, how they will
+miss him! I shall miss him myself&mdash;even though he
+doesn&rsquo;t know I am alive.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When the door opened she moved away,&mdash;remembering
+the sixpence,&mdash;but she saw the traveller come out and stand
+against the background of the warmly lighted hall, the
+older children still hovering about him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will Moscow be covered with snow?&rdquo; said the little
+girl Janet. &ldquo;Will there be ice everywhere?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall you drive in a drosky?&rdquo; cried another. &ldquo;Shall
+you see the Czar?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will write and tell you all about it,&rdquo; he answered,
+laughing. &ldquo;And I will send you pictures of muzhiks and
+things. Run into the house. It is a hideous damp night.
+I would rather stay with you than go to Moscow. Good
+night! Good night, duckies! God bless you!&rdquo; And he
+ran down the steps and jumped into the brougham.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you find the little girl, give her our love,&rdquo; shouted
+Guy Clarence, jumping up and down on the door-mat.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went in and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see,&rdquo; said Janet to Nora, as they went back to
+the room&mdash;&ldquo;the little-girl-who-is-not-a-beggar was passing?
+She looked all cold and wet, and I saw her turn
+her head over her shoulder and look at us. Mamma says
+her clothes always look as if they had been given her by
+some one who was quite rich&mdash;some one who only let her
+have them because they were too shabby to wear. The people
+at the school always send her out on errands on the horridest
+days and nights there are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara crossed the square to Miss Minchin&rsquo;s area steps,
+feeling faint and shaky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder who the little girl is,&rdquo; she thought&mdash;&ldquo;the little
+girl he is going to look for.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she went down the area steps, lugging her basket
+and finding it very heavy indeed, as the father of the Large
+Family drove quickly on his way to the station to take the
+train which was to carry him to Moscow, where he was to
+make his best efforts to search for the lost little daughter
+of Captain Crewe.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV<br />
+
+<small>WHAT MELCHISEDEC HEARD AND SAW</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">On</span> this very afternoon, while Sara was out, a
+strange thing happened in the attic. Only Melchisedec
+saw and heard it; and he was so much
+alarmed and mystified that he scuttled back to his hole and
+hid there, and really quaked and trembled as he peeped out
+furtively and with great caution to watch what was going
+on.</p>
+
+<p>The attic had been very still all the day after Sara had
+left it in the early morning. The stillness had only been
+broken by the pattering of the rain upon the slates and the
+skylight. Melchisedec had, in fact, found it rather dull;
+and when the rain ceased to patter and perfect silence
+reigned, he decided to come out and reconnoitre, though
+experience taught him that Sara would not return for some
+time. He had been rambling and sniffing about, and had
+just found a totally unexpected and unexplained crumb
+left from his last meal, when his attention was attracted by
+a sound on the roof. He stopped to listen with a palpitating
+heart. The sound suggested that something was moving
+on the roof. It was approaching the skylight; it
+reached the skylight. The skylight was being mysteriously
+opened. A dark face peered into the attic; then another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+face appeared behind it, and both looked in with signs of
+caution and interest. Two men were outside on the roof,
+and were making silent preparations to enter through the
+skylight itself. One was Ram Dass, and the other was a
+young man who was the Indian gentleman&rsquo;s secretary; but
+of course Melchisedec did not know this. He only knew
+that the men were invading the silence and privacy of the
+attic; and as the one with the dark face let himself down
+through the aperture with such lightness and dexterity
+that he did not make the slightest sound, Melchisedec
+turned tail and fled precipitately back to his hole. He was
+frightened to death. He had ceased to be timid with Sara,
+and knew she would never throw anything but crumbs,
+and would never make any sound other than the soft,
+low, coaxing whistling; but strange men were dangerous
+things to remain near. He lay close and flat near the entrance
+of his home, just managing to peep through the
+crack with a bright, alarmed eye. How much he understood
+of the talk he heard I am not in the least able to say;
+but, even if he had understood it all, he would probably
+have remained greatly mystified.</p>
+
+<p>The secretary, who was light and young, slipped through
+the skylight as noiselessly as Ram Dass had done; and he
+caught a last glimpse of Melchisedec&rsquo;s vanishing tail.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was that a rat?&rdquo; he asked Ram Dass in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; a rat, Sahib,&rdquo; answered Ram Dass, also whispering.
+&ldquo;There are many in the walls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ugh!&rdquo; exclaimed the young man; &ldquo;it is a wonder the
+child is not terrified of them.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ram Dass made a gesture with his hands. He also
+smiled respectfully. He was in this place as the intimate
+exponent of Sara, though she had only spoken to him once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The child is the little friend of all things, Sahib,&rdquo; he
+answered. &ldquo;She is not as other children. I see her when
+she does not see me. I slip across the slates and look at her
+many nights to see that she is safe. I watch her from my
+window when she does not know I am near. She stands
+on the table there and looks out at the sky as if it spoke to
+her. The sparrows come at her call. The rat she has fed
+and tamed in her loneliness. The poor slave of the house
+comes to her for comfort. There is a little child who comes
+to her in secret; there is one older who worships her and
+would listen to her forever if she might. This I have seen
+when I have crept across the roof. By the mistress of the
+house&mdash;who is an evil woman&mdash;she is treated like a pariah;
+but she has the bearing of a child who is of the blood of
+kings!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You seem to know a great deal about her,&rdquo; the secretary
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All her life each day I know,&rdquo; answered Ram Dass.
+&ldquo;Her going out I know, and her coming in; her sadness and
+her poor joys; her coldness and her hunger. I know when
+she sits alone until midnight, learning from her books; I
+know when her secret friends steal to her and she is happier&mdash;as
+children can be, even in the midst of poverty&mdash;because
+they come and she may laugh and talk with them in
+whispers. If she were ill I should know, and I would come
+and serve her if it might be done.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are sure no one comes near this place but herself,
+and that she will not return and surprise us. She would
+be frightened if she found us here, and the Sahib Carrisford&rsquo;s
+plan would be spoiled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ram Dass crossed noiselessly to the door and stood close
+to it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None mount here but herself, Sahib,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;She
+has gone out with her basket and may be gone for hours.
+If I stand here I can hear any step before it reaches the
+last flight of the stairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The secretary took a pencil and a tablet from his breast
+pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep your ears open,&rdquo; he said; and he began to walk
+slowly and softly round the miserable little room, making
+rapid notes on his tablet as he looked at things.</p>
+
+<p>First he went to the narrow bed. He pressed his hand
+upon the mattress and uttered an exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As hard as a stone,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That will have to be
+altered some day when she is out. A special journey can be
+made to bring it across. It cannot be done to-night.&rdquo; He
+lifted the covering and examined the one thin pillow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Coverlet dingy and worn, blanket thin, sheets patched
+and ragged,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What a bed for a child to sleep in&mdash;and
+in a house which calls itself respectable! There
+has not been a fire in that grate for many a day,&rdquo; glancing
+at the rusty fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never since I have seen it,&rdquo; said Ram Dass. &ldquo;The
+mistress of the house is not one who remembers that another
+than herself may be cold.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The secretary was writing quickly on his tablet. He
+looked up from it as he tore off a leaf and slipped it into
+his breast pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a strange way of doing the thing,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Who
+planned it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ram Dass made a modestly apologetic obeisance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is true that the first thought was mine, Sahib,&rdquo; he
+said; &ldquo;though it was naught but a fancy. I am fond of this
+child; we are both lonely. It is her way to relate her visions
+to her secret friends. Being sad one night, I lay close to
+the open skylight and listened. The vision she related told
+what this miserable room might be if it had comforts in it.
+She seemed to see it as she talked, and she grew cheered
+and warmed as she spoke. Then she came to this fancy;
+and the next day, the Sahib being ill and wretched, I told
+him of the thing to amuse him. It seemed then but a
+dream, but it pleased the Sahib. To hear of the child&rsquo;s
+doings gave him entertainment. He became interested in
+her and asked questions. At last he began to please himself
+with the thought of making her visions real things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You think that it can be done while she sleeps? Suppose
+she awakened,&rdquo; suggested the secretary; and it was
+evident that whatsoever the plan referred to was, it had
+caught and pleased his fancy as well as the Sahib Carrisford&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can move as if my feet were of velvet,&rdquo; Ram Dass
+replied; &ldquo;and children sleep soundly&mdash;even the unhappy
+ones. I could have entered this room in the night many
+times, and without causing her to turn upon her pillow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+If the other bearer passes to me the things through the
+window, I can do all and she will not stir. When she
+awakens she will think a magician has been here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He smiled as if his heart warmed under his white robe,
+and the secretary smiled back at him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will be like a story from the &lsquo;Arabian Nights,&rsquo;&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Only an Oriental could have planned it. It does
+not belong to London fogs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They did not remain very long, to the great relief of
+Melchisedec, who, as he probably did not comprehend their
+conversation, felt their movements and whispers ominous.
+The young secretary seemed interested in everything. He
+wrote down things about the floor, the fireplace, the
+broken footstool, the old table, the walls&mdash;which last he
+touched with his hand again and again, seeming much
+pleased when he found that a number of old nails had been
+driven in various places.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can hang things on them,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Ram Dass smiled mysteriously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yesterday, when she was out,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I entered,
+bringing with me small, sharp nails which can be pressed
+into the wall without blows from a hammer. I placed
+many in the plaster where I may need them. They are
+ready.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman&rsquo;s secretary stood still and looked
+round him as he thrust his tablets back into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I have made notes enough; we can go now,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;The Sahib Carrisford has a warm heart. It is a
+thousand pities that he has not found the lost child.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If he should find her his strength would be restored
+to him,&rdquo; said Ram Dass. &ldquo;His God may lead her to him
+yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then they slipped through the skylight as noiselessly as
+they had entered it. And, after he was quite sure they
+had gone, Melchisedec was greatly relieved, and in the
+course of a few minutes felt it safe to emerge from his
+hole again and scuffle about in the hope that even such
+alarming human beings as these might have chanced to
+carry crumbs in their pockets and drop one or two of them.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XV<br />
+
+<small>THE MAGIC</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">When</span> Sara had passed the house next door she
+had seen Ram Dass closing the shutters, and
+caught her glimpse of this room also.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a long time since I saw a nice place from the inside,&rdquo;
+was the thought which crossed her mind.</p>
+
+<p>There was the usual bright fire glowing in the grate, and
+the Indian gentleman was sitting before it. His head was
+resting in his hand, and he looked as lonely and unhappy as
+ever.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor man!&rdquo; said Sara; &ldquo;I wonder what <em>you</em> are supposing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And this was what he was &ldquo;supposing&rdquo; at that very
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose,&rdquo; he was thinking, &ldquo;suppose&mdash;even if Carmichael
+traces the people to Moscow&mdash;the little girl they took
+from Madame Pascal&rsquo;s school in Paris is <em>not</em> the one we
+are in search of. Suppose she proves to be quite a different
+child. What steps shall I take next?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Sara went into the house she met Miss Minchin,
+who had come down-stairs to scold the cook.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where have you wasted your time?&rdquo; she demanded.
+&ldquo;You have been out for hours.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was so wet and muddy,&rdquo; Sara answered, &ldquo;it was
+hard to walk, because my shoes were so bad and slipped
+about.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Make no excuses,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin, &ldquo;and tell no
+falsehoods.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara went in to the cook. The cook had received a severe
+lecture and was in a fearful temper as a result. She was
+only too rejoiced to have some one to vent her rage on, and
+Sara was a convenience, as usual.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you stay all night?&rdquo; she snapped.</p>
+
+<p>Sara laid her purchases on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here are the things,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>The cook looked them over, grumbling. She was in a
+very savage humor indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I have something to eat?&rdquo; Sara asked rather
+faintly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tea&rsquo;s over and done with,&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;Did you
+expect me to keep it hot for you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stood silent for a second.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had no dinner,&rdquo; she said next, and her voice was
+quite low. She made it low because she was afraid it would
+tremble.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s some bread in the pantry,&rdquo; said the cook.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all you&rsquo;ll get at this time of day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara went and found the bread. It was old and hard and
+dry. The cook was in too vicious a humor to give her anything
+to eat with it. It was always safe and easy to vent
+her spite on Sara. Really, it was hard for the child to
+climb the three long flights of stairs leading to her attic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+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 she was obliged to stop to rest. When she
+reached the top landing she was glad to see the glimmer
+of a light coming from under her door. That meant that
+Ermengarde had managed to creep up to pay her a visit.
+There was some comfort in that. It was better than to go
+into the room alone and find it empty and desolate. The
+mere presence of plump, comfortable Ermengarde, wrapped
+in her red shawl, would warm it a little.</p>
+
+<p>Yes; there Ermengarde was when she opened the door.
+She was sitting in the middle of the bed, with her feet
+tucked safely under her. She had never become intimate
+with Melchisedec and his family, though they rather fascinated
+her. When she found herself alone in the attic she
+always preferred to sit on the bed until Sara arrived. She
+had, in fact, on this occasion had time to become rather
+nervous, because Melchisedec had appeared and sniffed
+about a good deal, and once had made her utter a repressed
+squeal by sitting up on his hind legs and, while he looked
+at her, sniffing pointedly in her direction.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara,&rdquo; she cried out, &ldquo;I <em>am</em> glad you have come.
+Melchy <em>would</em> sniff about so. I tried to coax him to go
+back, but he wouldn&rsquo;t for such a long time. I like him,
+you know; but it does frighten me when he sniffs right at
+me. Do you think he ever <em>would</em> jump?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered Sara.</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde crawled forward on the bed to look at her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You <em>do</em> look tired, Sara,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;you are quite
+pale.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <em>am</em> tired,&rdquo; said Sara, dropping on to the lop-sided
+footstool. &ldquo;Oh, there&rsquo;s Melchisedec, poor thing. He&rsquo;s
+come to ask for his supper.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Melchisedec had come out of his hole as if he had been
+listening for her footstep. Sara was quite sure he knew it.
+He came forward with an affectionate, expectant expression
+as Sara put her hand in her pocket and turned it inside
+out, shaking her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very sorry,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t one crumb left.
+Go home, Melchisedec, and tell your wife there was nothing
+in my pocket. I&rsquo;m afraid I forgot because the cook
+and Miss Minchin were so cross.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Melchisedec seemed to understand. He shuffled resignedly,
+if not contentedly, back to his home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not expect to see you to-night, Ermie,&rdquo; Sara
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde hugged herself in the red shawl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Amelia has gone out to spend the night with her
+old aunt,&rdquo; she explained. &ldquo;No one else ever comes and
+looks into the bedrooms after we are in bed. I could stay
+here until morning if I wanted to.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She pointed toward the table under the skylight. Sara
+had not looked toward it as she came in. A number of
+books were piled upon it. Ermengarde&rsquo;s gesture was a
+dejected one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa has sent me some more books, Sara,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;There they are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked round and got up at once. She ran to the
+table, and picking up the top volume, turned over its leaves
+quickly. For the moment she forgot her discomforts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; she cried out, &ldquo;how beautiful! Carlyle&rsquo;s &lsquo;French
+Revolution.&rsquo; I have <em>so</em> wanted to read that!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Ermengarde. &ldquo;And papa will be so
+cross if I don&rsquo;t. He&rsquo;ll expect me to know all about it
+when I go home for the holidays. What <em>shall</em> I do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stopped turning over the leaves and looked at her
+with an excited flush on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;if you&rsquo;ll lend me these books,
+<em>I&rsquo;ll</em> read them&mdash;and tell you everything that&rsquo;s in them
+afterward&mdash;and I&rsquo;ll tell it so that you will remember it,
+too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, goodness!&rdquo; exclaimed Ermengarde. &ldquo;Do you
+think you can?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know I can,&rdquo; Sara answered. &ldquo;The little ones always
+remember what I tell them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara,&rdquo; said Ermengarde, hope gleaming in her round
+face, &ldquo;if you&rsquo;ll do that, and make me remember, I&rsquo;ll&mdash;I&rsquo;ll
+give you anything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want you to give me anything,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I
+want your books&mdash;I want them!&rdquo; And her eyes grew big,
+and her chest heaved.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take them, then,&rdquo; said Ermengarde. &ldquo;I wish I
+wanted them&mdash;but I don&rsquo;t. I&rsquo;m not clever, and my father
+is, and he thinks I ought to be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara was opening one book after the other. &ldquo;What are
+you going to tell your father?&rdquo; she asked, a slight doubt
+dawning in her mind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, he needn&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; answered Ermengarde. &ldquo;He&rsquo;ll
+think I&rsquo;ve read them.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sara put down her book and shook her head slowly.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s almost like telling lies,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And lies&mdash;well,
+you see, they are not only wicked&mdash;they&rsquo;re <em>vulgar</em>.
+Sometimes&rdquo;&mdash;reflectively&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve thought perhaps I
+might do something wicked,&mdash;I might suddenly fly into
+a rage and kill Miss Minchin, you know, when she was
+ill-treating me,&mdash;but I <em>couldn&rsquo;t</em> be vulgar. Why can&rsquo;t you
+tell your father <em>I</em> read them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He wants me to read them,&rdquo; said Ermengarde, a little
+discouraged by this unexpected turn of affairs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He wants you to know what is in them,&rdquo; said Sara.
+&ldquo;And if I can tell it to you in an easy way and make you
+remember it, I should think he would like that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll like it if I learn anything in <em>any</em> way,&rdquo; said rueful
+Ermengarde. &ldquo;You would if you were my father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not your fault that&mdash;&rdquo; began Sara. She pulled
+herself up and stopped rather suddenly. She had been
+going to say, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not your fault that you are stupid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That what?&rdquo; Ermengarde asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That you can&rsquo;t learn things quickly,&rdquo; amended Sara.
+&ldquo;If you can&rsquo;t, you can&rsquo;t. If I can&mdash;why, I can; that&rsquo;s
+all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She always felt very tender of Ermengarde, and tried
+not to let her feel too strongly the difference between being
+able to learn anything at once, and not being able to
+learn anything at all. As she looked at her plump face,
+one of her wise, old-fashioned thoughts came to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;to be able to learn things quickly
+isn&rsquo;t everything. To be kind is worth a great deal to other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+people. If Miss Minchin knew everything on earth and
+was like what she is now, she&rsquo;d still be a detestable thing,
+and everybody would hate her. Lots of clever people have
+done harm and have been wicked. Look at Robespierre&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stopped and examined Ermengarde&rsquo;s countenance,
+which was beginning to look bewildered. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you remember?&rdquo;
+she demanded. &ldquo;I told you about him not long
+ago. I believe you&rsquo;ve forgotten.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t remember <em>all</em> of it,&rdquo; admitted Ermengarde.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you wait a minute,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll take off
+my wet things and wrap myself in the coverlet and tell you
+over again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took off her hat and coat and hung them on a nail
+against the wall, and she changed her wet shoes for an old
+pair of slippers. Then she jumped on the bed, and drawing
+the coverlet about her shoulders, sat with her arms
+round her knees.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, listen,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>She plunged into the gory records of the French Revolution,
+and told such stories of it that Ermengarde&rsquo;s eyes
+grew round with alarm and she held her breath. But
+though she was rather terrified, there was a delightful thrill
+in listening, and she was not likely to forget Robespierre
+again, or to have any doubts about the Princesse de Lamballe.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know they put her head on a pike and danced
+round it,&rdquo; Sara explained. &ldquo;And she had beautiful floating
+blonde hair; and when I think of her, I never see her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+head on her body, but always on a pike, with those furious
+people dancing and howling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was agreed that Mr. St. John was to be told the plan
+they had made, and for the present the books were to be
+left in the attic.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now let&rsquo;s tell each other things,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;How
+are you getting on with your French lessons?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ever so much better since the last time I came up here
+and you explained the conjugations. Miss Minchin could
+not understand why I did my exercises so well that first
+morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara laughed a little and hugged her knees.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t understand why Lottie is doing her sums
+so well,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but it is because she creeps up here, too,
+and I help her.&rdquo; She glanced round the room. &ldquo;The attic
+would be rather nice&mdash;if it wasn&rsquo;t so dreadful,&rdquo; she said,
+laughing again. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a good place to pretend in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The truth was that Ermengarde did not know anything
+of the sometimes almost unbearable side of life in the attic,
+and she had not a sufficiently vivid imagination to depict it
+for herself. On the rare occasions that she could reach
+Sara&rsquo;s room she only saw that side of it which was made
+exciting by things which were &ldquo;pretended&rdquo; and stories
+which were told. Her visits partook of the character of
+adventures; and though sometimes Sara looked rather pale,
+and it was not to be denied that she had grown very thin,
+her proud little spirit would not admit of complaints. She
+had never confessed that at times she was almost ravenous
+with hunger, as she was to-night. She was growing rapidly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+and her constant walking and running about would
+have given her a keen appetite even if she had had abundant
+and regular meals of a much more nourishing nature
+than the unappetizing, inferior food snatched at such odd
+times as suited the kitchen convenience. She was growing
+used to a certain gnawing feeling in her young stomach.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose soldiers feel like this when they are on a long
+and weary march,&rdquo; she often said to herself. She liked the
+sound of the phrase, &ldquo;long and weary march.&rdquo; It made her
+feel rather like a soldier. She had also a quaint sense of
+being a hostess in the attic.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I lived in a castle,&rdquo; she argued, &ldquo;and Ermengarde
+was the lady of another castle, and came to see me, with
+knights and squires and vassals riding with her, and pennons
+flying; when I heard the clarions sounding outside the
+drawbridge I should go down to receive her, and I should
+spread feasts in the banquet-hall and call in minstrels
+to sing and play and relate romances. When she comes
+into the attic I can&rsquo;t spread feasts, but I can tell stories,
+and not let her know disagreeable things. I dare say
+poor chatelaines had to do that in times of famine, when
+their lands had been pillaged.&rdquo; She was a proud,
+brave little chatelaine, and dispensed generously the one
+hospitality she could offer&mdash;the dreams she dreamed&mdash;the
+visions she saw&mdash;the imaginings which were her joy and
+comfort.</p>
+
+<p>So, as they sat together, Ermengarde did not know that
+she was faint as well as ravenous, and that while she talked
+she now and then wondered if her hunger would let her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+sleep when she was left alone. She felt as if she had never
+been quite so hungry before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I was as thin as you, Sara,&rdquo; Ermengarde said
+suddenly. &ldquo;I believe you are thinner than you used to be.
+Your eyes look so big, and look at the sharp little bones
+sticking out of your elbow!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara pulled down her sleeve, which had pushed itself up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I always was a thin child,&rdquo; she said bravely, &ldquo;and I always
+had big green eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I love your queer eyes,&rdquo; said Ermengarde, looking
+into them with affectionate admiration. &ldquo;They always
+look as if they saw such a long way. I love them&mdash;and
+I love them to be green&mdash;though they look black generally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are cat&rsquo;s eyes,&rdquo; laughed Sara; &ldquo;but I can&rsquo;t see in
+the dark with them&mdash;because I have tried, and I couldn&rsquo;t&mdash;I
+wish I could.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was just at this minute that something happened at
+the skylight which neither of them saw. If either of them
+had chanced to turn and look, she would have been startled
+by the sight of a dark face which peered cautiously into
+the room and disappeared as quickly and almost as silently
+as it had appeared. Not <em>quite</em> as silently, however. Sara,
+who had keen ears, suddenly turned a little and looked up at
+the roof.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That didn&rsquo;t sound like Melchisedec,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It
+wasn&rsquo;t scratchy enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo; said Ermengarde, a little startled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you think you heard something?&rdquo; asked Sara.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;N-no,&rdquo; Ermengarde faltered. &ldquo;Did you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps I didn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Sara; &ldquo;but I thought I did.
+It sounded as if something was on the slates&mdash;something
+that dragged softly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What could it be?&rdquo; said Ermengarde. &ldquo;Could it be&mdash;robbers?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Sara began cheerfully. &ldquo;There is nothing to
+steal&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She broke off in the middle of her words. They both
+heard the sound that checked her. It was not on the
+slates, but on the stairs below, and it was Miss Minchin&rsquo;s
+angry voice. Sara sprang off the bed, and put out the
+candle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is scolding Becky,&rdquo; she whispered, as she stood in
+the darkness. &ldquo;She is making her cry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will she come in here?&rdquo; Ermengarde whispered back,
+panic-stricken.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. She will think I am in bed. Don&rsquo;t stir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was very seldom that Miss Minchin mounted the last
+flight of stairs. Sara could only remember that she had
+done it once before. But now she was angry enough to be
+coming at least part of the way up, and it sounded as if
+she was driving Becky before her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You impudent, dishonest child!&rdquo; they heard her say.
+&ldquo;Cook tells me she has missed things repeatedly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;T warn&rsquo;t me, mum,&rdquo; said Becky, sobbing. &ldquo;I was
+&rsquo;ungry enough, but &rsquo;t warn&rsquo;t me&mdash;never!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You deserve to be sent to prison,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin&rsquo;s
+voice. &ldquo;Picking and stealing! Half a meat-pie, indeed!&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;T warn&rsquo;t me,&rdquo; wept Becky. &ldquo;I could &rsquo;ave eat a whole
+un&mdash;but I never laid a finger on it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin was out of breath between temper and
+mounting the stairs. The meat-pie had been intended for
+her special late supper. It became apparent that she boxed
+Becky&rsquo;s ears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t tell falsehoods,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Go to your room
+this instant.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Both Sara and Ermengarde heard the slap, and then
+heard Becky run in her slip-shod shoes up the stairs and
+into her attic. They heard her door shut, and knew that
+she threw herself upon her bed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I could &rsquo;ave e&rsquo;t two of &rsquo;em,&rdquo; they heard her cry into
+her pillow. &ldquo;An&rsquo; I never took a bite. &rsquo;Twas cook give
+it to her policeman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stood in the middle of the room in the darkness.
+She was clenching her little teeth and opening and shutting
+fiercely her outstretched hands. She could scarcely stand
+still, but she dared not move until Miss Minchin had gone
+down the stairs and all was still.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The wicked, cruel thing!&rdquo; she burst forth. &ldquo;The cook
+takes things herself and then says Becky steals them. She
+<em>doesn&rsquo;t!</em> She <em>doesn&rsquo;t!</em> She&rsquo;s so hungry sometimes that
+she eats crusts out of the ash-barrel!&rdquo; She pressed her
+hands hard against her face and burst into passionate little
+sobs, and Ermengarde, hearing this unusual thing, was
+overawed by it. Sara was crying! The unconquerable
+Sara! It seemed to denote something new&mdash;some mood she
+had never known. Suppose&mdash;! Suppose&mdash;! A new dread<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+possibility presented itself to her kind, slow, little mind all
+at once. She crept off the bed in the dark and found her
+way to the table where the candle stood. She struck a
+match and lit the candle. When she had lighted it, she
+bent forward and looked at Sara, with her new thought
+growing to definite fear in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara,&rdquo; she said in a timid, almost awe-stricken voice,
+&ldquo;are&mdash;are&mdash;you never told me&mdash;I don&rsquo;t want to be rude,
+but&mdash;are <em>you</em> ever hungry?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was too much just at that moment. The barrier broke
+down. Sara lifted her face from her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said in a new passionate way. &ldquo;Yes, I am.
+I&rsquo;m so hungry now that I could almost eat <em>you</em>. And it
+makes it worse to hear poor Becky. She&rsquo;s hungrier than I
+am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Oh!&rdquo; she cried wofully; &ldquo;and I never knew!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t want you to know,&rdquo; Sara said. &ldquo;It would
+have made me feel like a street beggar. I know I look like
+a street beggar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, you don&rsquo;t&mdash;you don&rsquo;t!&rdquo; Ermengarde broke in.
+&ldquo;Your clothes are a little queer,&mdash;but you <em>couldn&rsquo;t</em> look
+like a street beggar. You haven&rsquo;t a street-beggar face.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A little boy once gave me a sixpence for charity,&rdquo; said
+Sara, with a short little laugh in spite of herself. &ldquo;Here
+it is.&rdquo; And she pulled out the thin ribbon from her neck.
+&ldquo;He wouldn&rsquo;t have given me his Christmas sixpence if I
+hadn&rsquo;t looked as if I needed it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Somehow the sight of the dear little sixpence was good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+for both of them. It made them laugh a little, though they
+both had tears in their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who was he?&rdquo; asked Ermengarde, looking at it quite
+as if it had not been a mere ordinary silver sixpence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was a darling little thing going to a party,&rdquo; said
+Sara. &ldquo;He was one of the Large Family, the little one
+with the round legs&mdash;the one I call Guy Clarence. I suppose
+his nursery was crammed with Christmas presents and
+hampers full of cakes and things, and he could see I had
+had nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde gave a little jump backward. The last
+sentences had recalled something to her troubled mind and
+given her a sudden inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;What a silly thing I am not
+to have thought of it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Something splendid!&rdquo; said Ermengarde, in an excited
+hurry. &ldquo;This very afternoon my nicest aunt sent me a
+box. It is full of good things. I never touched it, I had
+so much pudding at dinner, and I was so bothered about
+papa&rsquo;s books.&rdquo; Her words began to tumble over each
+other. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s got cake in it, and little meat-pies, and jam-tarts
+and buns, and oranges and red-currant wine, and
+figs and chocolate. I&rsquo;ll creep back to my room and get it
+this minute, and we&rsquo;ll eat it now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara almost reeled. When one is faint with hunger the
+mention of food has sometimes a curious effect. She
+clutched Ermengarde&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think&mdash;you <em>could?&rdquo;</em> she ejaculated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know I could,&rdquo; answered Ermengarde, and she ran
+to the door&mdash;opened it softly&mdash;put her head out into the
+darkness, and listened. Then she went back to Sara.
+&ldquo;The lights are out. Everybody&rsquo;s in bed. I can creep&mdash;and
+creep&mdash;and no one will hear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was so delightful that they caught each other&rsquo;s hands
+and a sudden light sprang into Sara&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ermie!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Let us <em>pretend!</em> Let us pretend
+it&rsquo;s a party! And oh, won&rsquo;t you invite the prisoner in
+the next cell?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes! Yes! Let us knock on the wall now. The jailer
+won&rsquo;t hear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara went to the wall. Through it she could hear poor
+Becky crying more softly. She knocked four times.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That means, &lsquo;Come to me through the secret passage
+under the wall,&rsquo; she explained. &lsquo;I have something to communicate.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Five quick knocks answered her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is coming,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Almost immediately the door of the attic opened and
+Becky appeared. Her eyes were red and her cap was sliding
+off, and when she caught sight of Ermengarde she
+began to rub her face nervously with her apron.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t mind me a bit, Becky!&rdquo; cried Ermengarde.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Ermengarde has asked you to come in,&rdquo; said
+Sara, &ldquo;because she is going to bring a box of good things
+up here to us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky&rsquo;s cap almost fell off entirely, she broke in with
+such excitement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To eat, miss?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Things that&rsquo;s good to
+eat?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Sara, &ldquo;and we are going to pretend a
+party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you shall have as much as you <em>want</em> to eat,&rdquo; put
+in Ermengarde. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go this minute!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was in such haste that as she tiptoed out of the attic
+she dropped her red shawl and did not know it had fallen.
+No one saw it for a minute or so. Becky was too much
+overpowered by the good luck which had befallen her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, miss! oh, miss!&rdquo; she gasped; &ldquo;I know it was you
+that asked her to let me come. It&mdash;it makes me cry to
+think of it.&rdquo; And she went to Sara&rsquo;s side and stood and
+looked at her worshippingly.</p>
+
+<p>But in Sara&rsquo;s hungry eyes the old light had begun to
+glow and transform her world for her. Here in the attic&mdash;with
+the cold night outside&mdash;with the afternoon in the
+sloppy streets barely passed&mdash;with the memory of the
+awful unfed look in the beggar child&rsquo;s eyes not yet faded&mdash;this
+simple, cheerful thing had happened like a thing of
+magic.</p>
+
+<p>She caught her breath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Somehow, something always happens,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;just
+before things get to the very worst. It is as if the Magic
+did it. If I could only just remember that always. The
+worst thing never <em>quite</em> comes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She gave Becky a little cheerful shake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no! You mustn&rsquo;t cry!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We must
+make haste and set the table.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Set the table, miss?&rdquo; said Becky, gazing round the
+room. &ldquo;What&rsquo;ll we set it with?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked round the attic, too.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There doesn&rsquo;t seem to be much,&rdquo; she answered, half
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>That moment she saw something and pounced upon it.
+It was Ermengarde&rsquo;s red shawl which lay upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s the shawl,&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I know she won&rsquo;t mind
+it. It will make such a nice red table-cloth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They pulled the old table forward, and threw the shawl
+over it. Red is a wonderfully kind and comfortable color.
+It began to make the room look furnished directly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How nice a red rug would look on the floor!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Sara. &ldquo;We must pretend there is one!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her eye swept the bare boards with a swift glance of
+admiration. The rug was laid down already.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How soft and thick it is!&rdquo; she said, with the little laugh
+which Becky knew the meaning of; and she raised and
+set her foot down again delicately, as if she felt something
+under it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, miss,&rdquo; answered Becky, watching her with serious
+rapture. She was always quite serious.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What next, now?&rdquo; said Sara, and she stood still and put
+her hands over her eyes. &ldquo;Something will come if I think
+and wait a little&rdquo;&mdash;in a soft, expectant voice. &ldquo;The Magic
+will tell me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One of her favorite fancies was that on &ldquo;the outside,&rdquo;
+as she called it, thoughts were waiting for people to call
+them. Becky had seen her stand and wait many a time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+before, and knew that in a few seconds she would uncover
+an enlightened, laughing face.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment she did.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;It has come! I know now! I
+must look among the things in the old trunk I had when
+I was a princess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She flew to its corner and kneeled down. It had not been
+put in the attic for her benefit, but because there was no
+room for it elsewhere. Nothing had been left in it but rubbish.
+But she knew she should find something. The Magic
+always arranged that kind of thing in one way or another.</p>
+
+<p>In a corner lay a package so insignificant-looking that
+it had been overlooked, and when she herself had found it
+she had kept it as a relic. It contained a dozen small white
+handkerchiefs. She seized them joyfully and ran to the
+table. She began to arrange them upon the red table-cover,
+patting and coaxing them into shape with the narrow
+lace edge curling outward, her Magic working its spells for
+her as she did it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These are the plates,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;They are golden
+plates. These are the richly embroidered napkins. Nuns
+worked them in convents in Spain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did they, miss?&rdquo; breathed Becky, her very soul uplifted
+by the information.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must pretend it,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;If you pretend it
+enough, you will see them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, miss,&rdquo; said Becky; and as Sara returned to the
+trunk she devoted herself to the effort of accomplishing an
+end so much to be desired.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Sara turned suddenly to find her standing by the table,
+looking very queer indeed. She had shut her eyes, and was
+twisting her face in strange, convulsive contortions, her
+hands hanging stiffly clenched at her sides. She looked as
+if she was trying to lift some enormous weight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter, Becky?&rdquo; Sara cried. &ldquo;What are
+you doing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky opened her eyes with a start.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was a-&lsquo;pretendin&rsquo;,&rsquo; miss,&rdquo; she answered a little
+sheepishly; &ldquo;I was tryin&rsquo; to see it like you do. I almost
+did,&rdquo; with a hopeful grin. &ldquo;But it takes a lot o&rsquo;
+stren&rsquo;th.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps it does if you are not used to it,&rdquo; said Sara,
+with friendly sympathy; &ldquo;but you don&rsquo;t know how easy
+it is when you&rsquo;ve done it often. I wouldn&rsquo;t try so hard
+just at first. It will come to you after a while. I&rsquo;ll just
+tell you what things are. Look at these.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She held an old summer hat in her hand which she had
+fished out of the bottom of the trunk. There was a wreath
+of flowers on it. She pulled the wreath off.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These are garlands for the feast,&rdquo; she said grandly.
+&ldquo;They fill all the air with perfume. There&rsquo;s a mug on the
+wash-stand, Becky. Oh&mdash;and bring the soap-dish for a
+centrepiece.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky handed them to her reverently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are they now, miss?&rdquo; she inquired. &ldquo;You&rsquo;d
+think they was made of crockery,&mdash;but I know they
+ain&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is a carven flagon,&rdquo; said Sara, arranging tendrils<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+of the wreath about the mug. &ldquo;And this&rdquo;&mdash;bending tenderly
+over the soap-dish and heaping it with roses&mdash;&ldquo;is
+purest alabaster encrusted with gems.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She touched the things gently, a happy smile hovering
+about her lips which made her look as if she were a creature
+in a dream.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My, ain&rsquo;t it lovely!&rdquo; whispered Becky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If we just had something for bonbon-dishes,&rdquo; Sara
+murmured. &ldquo;There!&rdquo;&mdash;darting to the trunk again. &ldquo;I
+remember I saw something this minute.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was only a bundle of wool wrapped in red and white
+tissue-paper, but the tissue-paper was soon twisted into the
+form of little dishes, and was combined with the remaining
+flowers to ornament the candlestick which was to light the
+feast. Only the Magic could have made it more than an
+old table covered with a red shawl and set with rubbish from
+a long-unopened trunk. But Sara drew back and gazed
+at it, seeing wonders; and Becky, after staring in delight,
+spoke with bated breath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This &rsquo;ere,&rdquo; she suggested, with a glance round the attic&mdash;&ldquo;is
+it the Bastille now&mdash;or has it turned into somethin&rsquo;
+different?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, yes!&rdquo; said Sara; &ldquo;quite different. It is a
+banquet-hall!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My eye, miss!&rdquo; ejaculated Becky. &ldquo;A blanket-&rsquo;all!&rdquo;
+and she turned to view the splendors about her with awed
+bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A banquet-hall,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;A vast chamber where
+feasts are given. It has a vaulted roof, and a minstrels&rsquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+gallery, and a huge chimney filled with blazing oaken
+logs, and it is brilliant with waxen tapers twinkling on
+every side.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My eye, Miss Sara!&rdquo; gasped Becky again.</p>
+
+<p>Then the door opened, and Ermengarde came in, rather
+staggering under the weight of her hamper. She started
+back with an exclamation of joy. To enter from the chill
+darkness outside, and find one&rsquo;s self confronted by a totally
+unanticipated festal board, draped with red, adorned
+with white napery, and wreathed with flowers, was to feel
+that the preparations were brilliant indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sara!&rdquo; she cried out. &ldquo;You are the cleverest girl
+I ever saw!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it nice?&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;They are things out of
+my old trunk. I asked my Magic, and it told me to go and
+look.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But oh, miss,&rdquo; cried Becky, &ldquo;wait till she&rsquo;s told you
+what they are! They ain&rsquo;t just&mdash;oh, miss, please tell her,&rdquo;
+appealing to Sara.</p>
+
+<p>So Sara told her, and because her Magic helped her she
+made her <em>almost</em> see it all: the golden platters&mdash;the vaulted
+spaces&mdash;the blazing logs&mdash;the twinkling waxen tapers. As
+the things were taken out of the hamper&mdash;the frosted cakes&mdash;the
+fruits&mdash;the bonbons and the wine&mdash;the feast became
+a splendid thing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s like a real party!&rdquo; cried Ermengarde.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s like a queen&rsquo;s table,&rdquo; sighed Becky.</p>
+
+<p>Then Ermengarde had a sudden brilliant thought.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what, Sara,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Pretend you are
+a princess now and this is a royal feast.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s your feast,&rdquo; said Sara; &ldquo;you must be the
+princess, and we will be your maids of honor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Ermengarde. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m too fat, and I
+don&rsquo;t know how. <em>You</em> be her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if you want me to,&rdquo; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>But suddenly she thought of something else and ran to
+the rusty grate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is a lot of paper and rubbish stuffed in here!&rdquo;
+she exclaimed. &ldquo;If we light it, there will be a bright blaze
+for a few minutes, and we shall feel as if it was a real fire.&rdquo;
+She struck a match and lighted it up with a great specious
+glow which illuminated the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By the time it stops blazing,&rdquo; Sara said, &ldquo;we shall forget
+about its not being real.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stood in the dancing glow and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t it <em>look</em> real?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Now we will begin
+the party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She led the way to the table. She waved her hand graciously
+to Ermengarde and Becky. She was in the midst
+of her dream.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Advance, fair damsels,&rdquo; she said in her happy dream-voice,
+&ldquo;and be seated at the banquet-table. My noble father,
+the king, who is absent on a long journey, has commanded
+me to feast you.&rdquo; She turned her head slightly
+toward the corner of the room. &ldquo;What, ho! there, minstrels!
+Strike up with your viols and bassoons. Princesses,&rdquo;
+she explained rapidly to Ermengarde and Becky,
+&ldquo;always had minstrels to play at their feasts. Pretend
+there is a minstrel gallery up there in the corner. Now we
+will begin.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They had barely had time to take their pieces of cake
+into their hands&mdash;not one of them had time to do more,
+when&mdash;they all three sprang to their feet and turned pale
+faces toward the door&mdash;listening&mdash;listening.</p>
+
+<p>Some one was coming up the stairs. There was no
+mistake about it. Each of them recognized the angry,
+mounting tread and knew that the end of all things had
+come.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s&mdash;the missus!&rdquo; choked Becky, and dropped her
+piece of cake upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sara, her eyes growing shocked and large
+in her small white face. &ldquo;Miss Minchin has found us
+out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin struck the door open with a blow of her
+hand. She was pale herself, but it was with rage. She
+looked from the frightened faces to the banquet-table, and
+from the banquet-table to the last flicker of the burnt paper
+in the grate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been suspecting something of this sort,&rdquo; she
+exclaimed; &ldquo;but I did not dream of such audacity. Lavinia
+was telling the truth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So they knew that it was Lavinia who had somehow
+guessed their secret and had betrayed them. Miss Minchin
+strode over to Becky and boxed her ears for a second
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You impudent creature!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You leave the
+house in the morning!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara stood quite still, her eyes growing larger, her face
+paler. Ermengarde burst into tears.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t send her away,&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;My aunt sent
+me the hamper. We&rsquo;re&mdash;only&mdash;having a party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I see,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin, witheringly. &ldquo;With the
+Princess Sara at the head of the table.&rdquo; She turned
+fiercely on Sara. &ldquo;It is your doing, I know,&rdquo; she cried.
+&ldquo;Ermengarde would never have thought of such a thing.
+You decorated the table, I suppose&mdash;with this rubbish.&rdquo;
+She stamped her foot at Becky. &ldquo;Go to your attic!&rdquo; she
+commanded, and Becky stole away, her face hidden in her
+apron, her shoulders shaking.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was Sara&rsquo;s turn again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will attend to you to-morrow. You shall have neither
+breakfast, dinner, nor supper!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not had either dinner or supper to-day, Miss
+Minchin,&rdquo; said Sara, rather faintly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then all the better. You will have something to remember.
+Don&rsquo;t stand there. Put those things into the
+hamper again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She began to sweep them off the table into the hamper
+herself, and caught sight of Ermengarde&rsquo;s new books.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you&rdquo;&mdash;to Ermengarde&mdash;&ldquo;have brought your
+beautiful new books into this dirty attic. Take them up
+and go back to bed. You will stay there all day to-morrow,
+and I shall write to your papa. What would <em>he</em> say if he
+knew where you are to-night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Something she saw in Sara&rsquo;s grave, fixed gaze at this
+moment made her turn on her fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you thinking of?&rdquo; she demanded. &ldquo;Why
+do you look at me like that?&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was wondering,&rdquo; answered Sara, as she had answered
+that notable day in the school-room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What were you wondering?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was very like the scene in the school-room. There was
+no pertness in Sara&rsquo;s manner. It was only sad and quiet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was wondering,&rdquo; she said in a low voice, &ldquo;what <em>my</em>
+papa would say if he knew where I am to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin was infuriated just as she had been before,
+and her anger expressed itself, as before, in an intemperate
+fashion. She flew at her and shook her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You insolent, unmanageable child!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;How
+dare you! How dare you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She picked up the books, swept the rest of the feast back
+into the hamper in a jumbled heap, thrust it into Ermengarde&rsquo;s
+arms, and pushed her before her toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will leave you to wonder,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Go to bed this
+instant.&rdquo; And she shut the door behind herself and poor
+stumbling Ermengarde, and left Sara standing quite alone.</p>
+
+<p>The dream was quite at an end. The last spark had died
+out of the paper in the grate and left only black tinder; the
+table was left bare, the golden plates and richly embroidered
+napkins, and the garlands were transformed again
+into old handkerchiefs, scraps of red and white paper, and
+discarded artificial flowers all scattered on the floor; the
+minstrels in the minstrel gallery had stolen away, and the
+viols and bassoons were still. Emily was sitting with her
+back against the wall, staring very hard. Sara saw her,
+and went and picked her up with trembling hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t any banquet left, Emily,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
+there isn&rsquo;t any princess. There is nothing left but the
+prisoners in the Bastille.&rdquo; And she sat down and hid her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>What would have happened if she had not hidden it just
+then, and if she had chanced to look up at the skylight at
+the wrong moment, I do not know&mdash;perhaps the end of this
+chapter might have been quite different&mdash;because if she
+had glanced at the skylight she would certainly have been
+startled by what she would have seen. She would have seen
+exactly the same face pressed against the glass and peering
+in at her as it had peered in earlier in the evening when she
+had been talking to Ermengarde.</p>
+
+<p>But she did not look up. She sat with her little black
+head in her arms for some time. She always sat like that
+when she was trying to bear something in silence. Then
+she got up and went slowly to the bed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t pretend anything else&mdash;while I am awake,&rdquo; she
+said. &ldquo;There wouldn&rsquo;t be any use in trying. If I go to
+sleep, perhaps a dream will come and pretend for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She suddenly felt so tired&mdash;perhaps through want of
+food&mdash;that she sat down on the edge of the bed quite
+weakly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose there was a bright fire in the grate, with lots
+of little dancing flames,&rdquo; she murmured. &ldquo;Suppose there
+was a comfortable chair before it&mdash;and suppose there was
+a small table near, with a little hot&mdash;hot supper on it. And
+suppose&rdquo;&mdash;as she drew the thin coverings over her&mdash;&ldquo;suppose
+this was a beautiful soft bed, with fleecy blankets and
+large downy pillows. Suppose&mdash;suppose&mdash;&rdquo; And her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+very weariness was good to her, for her eyes closed and she
+fell fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dot">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</p>
+
+<p>She did not know how long she slept. But she had been
+tired enough to sleep deeply and profoundly&mdash;too deeply
+and soundly to be disturbed by anything, even by the
+squeaks and scamperings of Melchisedec&rsquo;s entire family, if
+all his sons and daughters had chosen to come out of their
+hole to fight and tumble and play.</p>
+
+<p>When she awakened it was rather suddenly, and she did
+not know that any particular thing had called her out
+of her sleep. The truth was, however, that it was a
+sound which had called her back&mdash;a real sound&mdash;the
+click of the skylight as it fell in closing after a lithe white
+figure which slipped through it and crouched down close
+by upon the slates of the roof&mdash;just near enough to
+see what happened in the attic, but not near enough to be
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>At first she did not open her eyes. She felt too sleepy
+and&mdash;curiously enough&mdash;too warm and comfortable. She
+was so warm and comfortable, indeed, that she did not believe
+she was really awake. She never was as warm and
+cosey as this except in some lovely vision.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a nice dream!&rdquo; she murmured. &ldquo;I feel quite
+warm. I&mdash;don&rsquo;t&mdash;want&mdash;to&mdash;wake&mdash;up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Of course it was a dream. She felt as if warm, delightful
+bedclothes were heaped upon her. She could actually
+<em>feel</em> blankets, and when she put out her hand it touched
+something exactly like a satin-covered eider-down quilt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+She must not awaken from this delight&mdash;she must be quite
+still and make it last.</p>
+
+<p>But she could not&mdash;even though she kept her eyes closed
+tightly, she could not. Something was forcing her to
+awaken&mdash;something in the room. It was a sense of light,
+and a sound&mdash;the sound of a crackling, roaring little fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I am awakening,&rdquo; she said mournfully. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t
+help it&mdash;I can&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes opened in spite of herself. And then she actually
+smiled&mdash;for what she saw she had never seen in the
+attic before, and knew she never should see.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I <em>haven&rsquo;t</em> awakened,&rdquo; she whispered, daring to rise
+on her elbow and look all about her. &ldquo;I am dreaming yet.&rdquo;
+She knew it <em>must</em> be a dream, for if she were awake such
+things could not&mdash;could not be.</p>
+
+<p>Do you wonder that she felt sure she had not come back
+to earth? This is what she saw. In the grate there was
+a glowing, blazing fire; on the hob was a little brass kettle
+hissing and boiling; spread upon the floor was a thick,
+warm crimson rug; before the fire a folding-chair, unfolded,
+and with cushions on it; by the chair a small folding-table,
+unfolded, covered with a white cloth, and upon it
+spread small covered dishes, a cup, a saucer, a tea-pot; on
+the bed were new warm coverings and a satin-covered down
+quilt; at the foot a curious wadded silk robe, a pair of
+quilted slippers, and some books. The room of her dream
+seemed changed into fairyland&mdash;and it was flooded with
+warm light, for a bright lamp stood on the table covered
+with a rosy shade.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She sat up, resting on her elbow, and her breathing came
+short and fast.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It does not&mdash;melt away,&rdquo; she panted. &ldquo;Oh, I never
+had such a dream before.&rdquo; She scarcely dared to stir; but
+at last she pushed the bedclothes aside, and put her feet on
+the floor with a rapturous smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am dreaming&mdash;I am getting out of bed,&rdquo; she heard
+her own voice say; and then, as she stood up in the midst
+of it all, turning slowly from side to side,&mdash;&ldquo;I am dreaming
+it stays&mdash;real! I&rsquo;m dreaming it <em>feels</em> real. It&rsquo;s bewitched&mdash;or
+I&rsquo;m bewitched. I only <em>think</em> I see it all.&rdquo;
+Her words began to hurry themselves. &ldquo;If I can only
+keep on thinking it,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care! I don&rsquo;t
+care!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stood panting a moment longer, and then cried out
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it isn&rsquo;t true!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It <em>can&rsquo;t</em> be true! But
+oh, how true it seems!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The blazing fire drew her to it, and she knelt down and
+held out her hands close to it&mdash;so close that the heat made
+her start back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A fire I only dreamed wouldn&rsquo;t be <em>hot</em>,&rdquo; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>She sprang up, touched the table, the dishes, the rug; she
+went to the bed and touched the blankets. She took up
+the soft wadded dressing-gown, and suddenly clutched it to
+her breast and held it to her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s warm. It&rsquo;s soft!&rdquo; she almost sobbed. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s real.
+It must be!&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She threw it over her shoulders, and put her feet into the
+slippers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are real, too. It&rsquo;s all real!&rdquo; she cried. <a href="#frontispiece">&ldquo;I am
+<em>not</em>&mdash;I am <em>not</em> dreaming!&rdquo;</a></p>
+
+<p>She almost staggered to the books and opened the one
+which lay upon the top. Something was written on the
+fly-leaf&mdash;just a few words, and they were these:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To the little girl in the attic. From a friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When she saw that&mdash;wasn&rsquo;t it a strange thing for her to
+do?&mdash;she put her face down upon the page and burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know who it is,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but somebody cares
+for me a little. I have a friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took her candle and stole out of her own room and
+into Becky&rsquo;s, and stood by her bedside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Becky, Becky!&rdquo; she whispered as loudly as she dared.
+&ldquo;Wake up!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Becky wakened, and she sat upright staring
+aghast, her face still smudged with traces of tears, beside
+her stood a little figure in a luxurious wadded robe of crimson
+silk. The face she saw was a shining, wonderful thing.
+The Princess Sara&mdash;as she remembered her&mdash;stood at her
+very bedside, holding a candle in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Oh, Becky, come!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky was too frightened to speak. She simply got up
+and followed her, with her mouth and eyes open, and without
+a word.</p>
+
+<p>And when they crossed the threshold, Sara shut the door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+gently and drew her into the warm, glowing midst of
+things which made her brain reel and her hungry senses
+faint.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s true! It&rsquo;s true!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve touched them
+all. They are as real as we are. The Magic has come and
+done it, Becky, while we were asleep&mdash;the Magic that won&rsquo;t
+let those worst things <em>ever</em> quite happen.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI<br />
+
+<small>THE VISITOR</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Imagine</span>, if you can, what the rest of the evening was
+like. How they crouched by the fire which blazed and
+leaped and made so much of itself in the little grate.
+How they removed the covers of the dishes, and found rich,
+hot, savory soup, which was a meal in itself, and sandwiches
+and toast and muffins enough for both of them. The mug
+from the washstand was used as Becky&rsquo;s tea-cup, and the
+tea was so delicious that it was not necessary to pretend that
+it was anything else but tea. They were warm and full-fed
+and happy, and it was just like Sara that, having found
+her strange good fortune real, she should give herself up to
+the enjoyment of it to the utmost. She had lived such a
+life of imaginings that she was quite equal to accepting any
+wonderful thing that happened, and almost to cease, in
+a short time, to find it bewildering.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know any one in the world who could have
+done it,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but there has been some one. And
+here we are sitting by their fire&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;it&rsquo;s <em>true!</em>
+And whoever it is&mdash;wherever they are&mdash;I have a friend,
+Becky&mdash;some one is my friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It cannot be denied that as they sat before the blazing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+fire, and ate the nourishing, comfortable food, they felt a
+kind of rapturous awe, and looked into each other&rsquo;s eyes
+with something like doubt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think,&rdquo; Becky faltered once, in a whisper&mdash;&ldquo;do
+you think it could melt away, miss? Hadn&rsquo;t we better
+be quick?&rdquo; And she hastily crammed her sandwich into
+her mouth. If it was only a dream, kitchen manners would
+be overlooked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, it won&rsquo;t melt away,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;I am <em>eating</em>
+this muffin, and I can taste it. You never really eat things
+in dreams. You only think you are going to eat them. Besides,
+I keep giving myself pinches; and I touched a hot
+piece of coal just now, on purpose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The sleepy comfort which at length almost overpowered
+them was a heavenly thing. It was the drowsiness of
+happy, well-fed childhood, and they sat in the fire-glow and
+luxuriated in it until Sara found herself turning to look
+at her transformed bed.</p>
+
+<p>There were even blankets enough to share with Becky.
+The narrow couch in the next attic was more comfortable
+that night than its occupant had ever dreamed that it
+could be.</p>
+
+<p>As she went out of the room, Becky turned upon the
+threshold and looked about her with devouring eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If it ain&rsquo;t here in the mornin&rsquo;, miss,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s
+been here to-night, anyways, an&rsquo; I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t never forget it.&rdquo;
+She looked at each particular thing, as if to commit it to
+memory. &ldquo;The fire was <em>there</em>,&rdquo; pointing with her finger,
+&ldquo;an&rsquo; the table was before it; an&rsquo; the lamp was there, an&rsquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
+the light looked rosy red; an&rsquo; there was a satin cover on
+your bed, an&rsquo; a warm rug on the floor, an&rsquo; everythin&rsquo;
+looked beautiful; an&rsquo;&rdquo;&mdash;she paused a second, and laid her
+hand on her stomach tenderly&mdash;&ldquo;there <em>was</em> soup an&rsquo; sandwiches
+an&rsquo; muffins&mdash;there <em>was</em>.&rdquo; And, with this conviction
+a reality at least, she went away.</p>
+
+<p>Through the mysterious agency which works in schools
+and among servants, it was quite well known in the morning
+that Sara Crewe was in horrible disgrace, that Ermengarde
+was under punishment, and that Becky would have
+been packed out of the house before breakfast, but that a
+scullery-maid could not be dispensed with at once. The
+servants knew that she was allowed to stay because Miss
+Minchin could not easily find another creature helpless and
+humble enough to work like a bounden slave for so few shillings
+a week. The elder girls in the school-room knew
+that if Miss Minchin did not send Sara away it was for
+practical reasons of her own.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s growing so fast and learning such a lot, somehow,&rdquo;
+said Jessie to Lavinia, &ldquo;that she will be given classes
+soon, and Miss Minchin knows she will have to work for
+nothing. It was rather nasty of you, Lavvy, to tell about
+her having fun in the garret. How did you find it out?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I got it out of Lottie. She&rsquo;s such a baby she didn&rsquo;t
+know she was telling me. There was nothing nasty at all
+in speaking to Miss Minchin. I felt it my duty&rdquo;&mdash;priggishly.
+&ldquo;She was being deceitful. And it&rsquo;s ridiculous
+that she should look so grand, and be made so much of, in
+her rags and tatters!&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What were they doing when Miss Minchin caught
+them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pretending some silly thing. Ermengarde had taken
+up her hamper to share with Sara and Becky. She never
+invites us to share things. Not that I care, but it&rsquo;s rather
+vulgar of her to share with servant-girls in attics. I wonder
+Miss Minchin didn&rsquo;t turn Sara out&mdash;even if she does
+want her for a teacher.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she was turned out where would she go?&rdquo; inquired
+Jessie, a trifle anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do I know?&rdquo; snapped Lavinia. &ldquo;She&rsquo;ll look
+rather queer when she comes into the school-room this morning,
+I should think&mdash;after what&rsquo;s happened. She had no
+dinner yesterday, and she&rsquo;s not to have any to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jessie was not as ill-natured as she was silly. She picked
+up her book with a little jerk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I think it&rsquo;s horrid,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve no right
+to starve her to death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Sara went into the kitchen that morning the cook
+looked askance at her, and so did the housemaids; but she
+passed them hurriedly. She had, in fact, overslept herself
+a little, and as Becky had done the same, neither had had
+time to see the other, and each had come down-stairs in
+haste.</p>
+
+<p>Sara went into the scullery. Becky was violently scrubbing
+a kettle, and was actually gurgling a little song in
+her throat. She looked up with a wildly elated face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was there when I wakened, miss&mdash;the blanket,&rdquo; she
+whispered excitedly. &ldquo;It was as real as it was last night.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So was mine,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;It is all there now&mdash;all
+of it. While I was dressing I ate some of the cold things
+we left.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, laws! oh, laws!&rdquo; Becky uttered the exclamation
+in a sort of rapturous groan, and ducked her head
+over her kettle just in time, as the cook came in from the
+kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin had expected to see in Sara, when she
+appeared in the school-room, very much what Lavinia had
+expected to see. Sara had always been an annoying puzzle
+to her, because severity never made her cry or look frightened.
+When she was scolded she stood still and listened
+politely with a grave face; when she was punished she performed
+her extra tasks or went without her meals, making
+no complaint or outward sign of rebellion. The very fact
+that she never made an impudent answer seemed to Miss
+Minchin a kind of impudence in itself. But after yesterday&rsquo;s
+deprivation of meals, the violent scene of last
+night, the prospect of hunger to-day, she must surely have
+broken down. It would be strange indeed if she did not
+come down-stairs with pale cheeks and red eyes and an
+unhappy, humbled face.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin saw her for the first time when she entered
+the school-room to hear the little French class its lessons
+and superintend its exercises. And she came in with
+a springing step, color in her cheeks, and a smile hovering
+about the corners of her mouth. It was the most
+astonishing thing Miss Minchin had ever known. It gave
+her quite a shock. What was the child made of? What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+could such a thing mean? She called her at once to her
+desk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do not look as if you realize that you are in disgrace,&rdquo;
+she said. &ldquo;Are you absolutely hardened?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The truth is that when one is still a child&mdash;or even if one
+is grown up&mdash;and has been well fed, and has slept long and
+softly and warm; when one has gone to sleep in the midst
+of a fairy story, and has wakened to find it real, one cannot
+be unhappy or even look as if one were; and one could
+not, if one tried, keep a glow of joy out of one&rsquo;s eyes.
+Miss Minchin was almost struck dumb by the look of Sara&rsquo;s
+eyes when she lifted them and made her perfectly respectful
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, Miss Minchin,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I know
+that I am in disgrace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Be good enough not to forget it and look as if you
+had come into a fortune. It is an impertinence. And remember
+you are to have no food to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Miss Minchin,&rdquo; Sara answered; but as she turned
+away her heart leaped with the memory of what yesterday
+had been. &ldquo;If the Magic had not saved me just in time,&rdquo;
+she thought, &ldquo;how horrible it would have been!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She can&rsquo;t be very hungry,&rdquo; whispered Lavinia. &ldquo;Just
+look at her. Perhaps she is pretending she has had a good
+breakfast&rdquo;&mdash;with a spiteful laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;s different from other people,&rdquo; said Jessie, watching
+Sara with her class. &ldquo;Sometimes I&rsquo;m a bit frightened
+of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ridiculous thing!&rdquo; ejaculated Lavinia.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All through the day the light was in Sara&rsquo;s face, and the
+color in her cheek. The servants cast puzzled glances at her,
+and whispered to each other, and Miss Amelia&rsquo;s small blue
+eyes wore an expression of bewilderment. What such an
+audacious look of well-being, under august displeasure,
+could mean she could not understand. It was, however,
+just like Sara&rsquo;s singular obstinate way. She was probably
+determined to brave the matter out.</p>
+
+<p>One thing Sara had resolved upon, as she thought things
+over. The wonders which had happened must be kept a
+secret, if such a thing were possible. If Miss Minchin
+should choose to mount to the attic again, of course all
+would be discovered. But it did not seem likely that she
+would do so for some time at least, unless she was led
+by suspicion. Ermengarde and Lottie would be watched
+with such strictness that they would not dare to steal out
+of their beds again. Ermengarde could be told the story
+and trusted to keep it secret. If Lottie made any discoveries,
+she could be bound to secrecy also. Perhaps the
+Magic itself would help to hide its own marvels.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But whatever happens,&rdquo; Sara kept saying to herself
+all day&mdash;&ldquo;what<em>ever</em> happens, somewhere in the world there
+is a heavenly kind person who is my friend&mdash;my friend.
+If I never know who it is&mdash;if I never can even thank him&mdash;I
+shall never feel quite so lonely. Oh, the Magic was
+<em>good</em> to me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If it was possible for weather to be worse than it had
+been the day before, it was worse this day&mdash;wetter, muddier,
+colder. There were more errands to be done, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+cook was more irritable, and, knowing that Sara was in
+disgrace, she was more savage. But what does anything
+matter when one&rsquo;s Magic has just proved itself one&rsquo;s
+friend. Sara&rsquo;s supper of the night before had given her
+strength, she knew that she should sleep well and warmly,
+and, even though she had naturally begun to be hungry
+again before evening, she felt that she could bear it until
+breakfast-time on the following day, when her meals would
+surely be given to her again. It was quite late when she
+was at last allowed to go up-stairs. She had been told
+to go into the school-room and study until ten o&rsquo;clock, and
+she had become interested in her work, and remained over
+her books later.</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the top flight of stairs and stood before
+the attic door, it must be confessed that her heart beat
+rather fast.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course it <em>might</em> all have been taken away,&rdquo; she
+whispered, trying to be brave. &ldquo;It might only have been
+lent to me for just that one awful night. But it <em>was</em> lent to
+me&mdash;I had it. It was real.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She pushed the door open and went in. Once inside, she
+gasped slightly, shut the door, and stood with her back
+against it, looking from side to side.</p>
+
+<p>The Magic had been there again. It actually had, and it
+had done even more than before. The fire was blazing, in
+lovely leaping flames, more merrily than ever. A number
+of new things had been brought into the attic which
+so altered the look of it that if she had not been past doubting,
+she would have rubbed her eyes. Upon the low table<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>
+another supper stood&mdash;this time with cups and plates for
+Becky as well as herself; a piece of bright, heavy, strange
+embroidery 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 of rich
+colors had been fastened against the wall with fine, sharp
+tacks&mdash;so sharp that they could be pressed into the wood
+and plaster without hammering. Some brilliant fans were
+pinned up, and there were several large cushions, big and
+substantial enough to use as seats. A 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 slowly moved away from the door and simply sat
+down and looked and looked again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is exactly like something fairy come true,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;There isn&rsquo;t the least difference. I feel as if I might wish
+for anything&mdash;diamonds or bags of gold&mdash;and they would
+appear! <em>That</em> wouldn&rsquo;t be any stranger than this. Is
+this my garret? Am I the same cold, ragged, damp Sara?
+And to think 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 <em>living</em> in a fairy story. I
+feel as if I might be a fairy myself, and able to turn things
+into anything else.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She rose and knocked upon the wall for the prisoner in
+the next cell, and the prisoner came.</p>
+
+<p>When she entered she almost dropped in a heap upon
+the floor. For a few seconds she quite lost her breath.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, laws!&rdquo; she gasped, &ldquo;Oh, laws, miss!&rdquo; just as
+she had done in the scullery.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Sara.</p>
+
+<p>On this night Becky sat on a cushion upon the hearth-rug
+and had a cup and saucer of her own.</p>
+
+<p>When Sara went to bed she found that she had a new
+thick mattress and big downy pillows. Her old mattress
+and pillow had been removed to Becky&rsquo;s bedstead, and, consequently,
+with these additions Becky had been supplied
+with unheard-of comfort.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where does it all come from?&rdquo; Becky broke forth once.
+&ldquo;Laws! who does it, miss?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t let us even <em>ask</em>&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;If it were not that
+I want to say, &lsquo;Oh, thank you,&rsquo; I would rather not know.
+It makes it more beautiful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>From that time life became more wonderful day by day.
+The fairy story continued. Almost every day something
+new was done. Some new comfort or ornament appeared
+each time Sara opened the door at night, until in a short
+time the attic was a beautiful little room full of all sorts
+of odd and luxurious things. The ugly walls were gradually
+entirely covered with pictures and draperies, ingenious
+pieces of folding furniture appeared, a book-shelf was
+hung up and filled with books, new comforts and conveniences
+appeared one by one, until there seemed nothing
+left to be desired. When Sara went down-stairs in the
+morning, the remains of the supper were on the table; and
+when she returned to the attic in the evening, the magician
+had removed them and left another nice little meal. Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+Minchin was as harsh and insulting as ever, Miss Amelia
+as peevish, and the servants were as vulgar and rude. Sara
+was sent on errands in all weathers, and scolded and driven
+hither and thither; she was scarcely allowed to speak to
+Ermengarde and Lottie; Lavinia sneered at the increasing
+shabbiness of her clothes; and the other girls stared curiously
+at her when she appeared in the school-room. But
+what did it all matter while she was living in this wonderful
+mysterious story? It was more romantic and delightful
+than anything she had ever invented to comfort her starved
+young soul and save herself from despair. Sometimes,
+when she was scolded, she could scarcely keep from smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you only knew!&rdquo; she was saying to herself. &ldquo;If
+you only knew!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The comfort and happiness she enjoyed were making her
+stronger, and she had them always to look forward to. If
+she came home from her errands wet and tired and hungry,
+she knew she would soon be warm and well fed after she
+had climbed the stairs. During the hardest day she could
+occupy herself blissfully by thinking of what she should
+see when she opened the attic door, and wondering what
+new delight had been prepared for her. In a very short
+time she began to look less thin. Color came into her
+cheeks, and her eyes did not seem so much too big for her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara Crewe looks wonderfully well,&rdquo; Miss Minchin
+remarked disapprovingly to her sister.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered poor, silly Miss Amelia. &ldquo;She is absolutely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+fattening. She was beginning to look like a little
+starved crow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Starved!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Minchin, angrily. &ldquo;There
+was no reason why she should look starved. She always
+had plenty to eat!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of&mdash;of course,&rdquo; agreed Miss Amelia, humbly, alarmed
+to find that she had, as usual, said the wrong thing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is something very disagreeable in seeing that sort
+of thing in a child of her age,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin, with
+haughty vagueness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&mdash;sort of thing?&rdquo; Miss Amelia ventured.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It might almost be called defiance,&rdquo; answered Miss
+Minchin, feeling annoyed because she knew the thing she
+resented was nothing like defiance, and she did not know
+what other unpleasant term to use. &ldquo;The spirit and will
+of any other child would have been entirely humbled and
+broken by&mdash;by the changes she has had to submit to. But,
+upon my word, she seems as little subdued as if&mdash;as if she
+were a princess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you remember,&rdquo; put in the unwise Miss Amelia,
+&ldquo;what she said to you that day in the school-room about
+what you would do if you found out that she was&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk nonsense.&rdquo;
+But she remembered very clearly indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Very naturally, even Becky was beginning to look
+plumper and less frightened. She could not help it. She
+had her share in the secret fairy story, too. She had two
+mattresses, two pillows, plenty of bed-covering, and every
+night a hot supper and a seat on the cushions by the fire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
+The Bastille had melted away, the prisoners no longer existed.
+Two comforted children sat in the midst of delights.
+Sometimes Sara read aloud from her books, sometimes she
+learned her own lessons, sometimes she sat and looked into
+the fire and tried to imagine who her friend could be, and
+wished she could say to him some of the things in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>Then it came about that another wonderful thing happened.
+A man came to the door and left several parcels.
+All were addressed in large letters, &ldquo;To the Little Girl in
+the right-hand attic.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara herself was sent to open the door and took them
+in. She laid the two largest parcels on the hall table, and
+was looking at the address, when Miss Minchin came down
+the stairs and saw her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take the things to the young lady to whom they belong,&rdquo;
+she said severely. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t stand there staring at
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They belong to me,&rdquo; answered Sara, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To you?&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Minchin. &ldquo;What do you
+mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know where they come from,&rdquo; said Sara, &ldquo;but
+they are addressed to me. I sleep in the right-hand attic.
+Becky has the other one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin came to her side and looked at the parcels
+with an excited expression.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is in them?&rdquo; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; replied Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Open them,&rdquo; she ordered.</p>
+
+<p>Sara did as she was told. When the packages were unfolded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+Miss Minchin&rsquo;s countenance wore suddenly a singular
+expression. What she saw was pretty and comfortable
+clothing&mdash;clothing of different kinds: shoes, stockings,
+and gloves, and a warm and beautiful coat. There were
+even a nice hat and an umbrella. They were all good
+and expensive things, and on the pocket of the coat was
+pinned a paper, on which were written these words: &ldquo;To
+be worn every day.&mdash;Will be replaced by others when
+necessary.&rdquo;</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
+neglected child had some powerful though eccentric friend
+in the background&mdash;perhaps some previously unknown relation,
+who had suddenly traced her whereabouts, and
+chose to provide for her in this mysterious and fantastic
+way? Relations were sometimes very odd&mdash;particularly
+rich old bachelor uncles, who did not care for having children
+near them. A man of that sort might prefer to overlook
+his young relation&rsquo;s welfare at a distance. Such a
+person, however, would be sure to be crotchety and hot-tempered
+enough to be easily offended. It would not be
+very pleasant if there were such a one, and he should learn
+all the truth about the thin, shabby clothes, the scant food,
+and the hard work. She felt very queer indeed, and very
+uncertain, and she gave a side glance at Sara.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, in a voice such as she had never used
+since the little girl lost her father, &ldquo;some one is very
+kind to you. As the things have been sent, and you are to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
+have new ones when they are worn out, you may as well go
+and put them on and look respectable. After you are
+dressed you may come down-stairs and learn your lessons in
+the school-room. You need not go out on any more errands
+to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>About half an hour afterward, when the school-room
+door opened and Sara walked in, the entire seminary was
+struck dumb with amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My word!&rdquo; ejaculated Jessie, jogging Lavinia&rsquo;s elbow.
+&ldquo;Look at the Princess Sara!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Everybody was looking, and when Lavinia looked she
+turned quite red.</p>
+
+<p>It was the Princess Sara indeed. At least, since the days
+when she had been a princess, Sara had never looked as she
+did now. She did not seem the Sara they had seen come
+down the back stairs a few hours ago. She was dressed in
+the kind of frock Lavinia had been used to envying her the
+possession of. It was deep and warm in color, and beautifully
+made. Her slender feet looked as they had done
+when Jessie had admired them, and the hair, whose heavy
+locks had made her look rather like a Shetland pony when
+it fell loose about her small, odd face, was tied back with a
+ribbon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps some one has left her a fortune,&rdquo; Jessie whispered.
+&ldquo;I always thought something would happen to her.
+She is so queer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps the diamond-mines have suddenly appeared
+again,&rdquo; said Lavinia, scathingly. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t please her by
+staring at her in that way, you silly thing.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sara,&rdquo; broke in Miss Minchin&rsquo;s deep voice, &ldquo;come and
+sit here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And while the whole school-room stared and pushed with
+elbows, and scarcely made any effort to conceal its excited
+curiosity, Sara went to her old seat of honor, and bent her
+head over her books.</p>
+
+<p>That night, when she went to her room, after she and
+Becky had eaten their supper she sat and looked at the
+fire seriously for a long time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you making something up in your head, miss?&rdquo;
+Becky inquired with respectful softness. When Sara sat
+in silence and looked into the coals with dreaming eyes it
+generally meant that she was making a new story. But this
+time she was not, and she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;I am wondering what I ought to
+do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky stared&mdash;still respectfully. She was filled with
+something approaching reverence for everything Sara did
+and said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help thinking about my friend,&rdquo; Sara explained.
+&ldquo;If he wants to keep himself a secret, it would be rude to
+try and find out who he is. But I do so want him to know
+how thankful I am to him&mdash;and how happy he has made
+me. Any one who is kind wants to know when people have
+been made happy. They care for that more than for being
+thanked. I wish&mdash;I do wish&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stopped short because her eyes at that instant fell
+upon something standing on a table in a corner. It was
+something she had found in the room when she came up to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+it only two days before. It was a little writing-case fitted
+with paper and envelopes and pens and ink.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;why did I not think of that before?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She rose and went to the corner and brought the case
+back to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can write to him,&rdquo; she said joyfully, &ldquo;and leave it
+on the table. Then perhaps the person who takes the
+things away will take it, too. I won&rsquo;t ask him anything.
+He won&rsquo;t mind my thanking him, I feel sure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So she wrote a note. This is what she said:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&ldquo;I hope you will not think it is impolite that I should
+write this note to you when you wish to keep yourself a
+secret. Please believe I do not mean to be impolite or try
+to find out anything at all; only I want to thank you
+for being so kind to me&mdash;so heavenly kind&mdash;and making
+everything like a fairy story. I am so grateful to you, and
+I am so happy&mdash;and so is Becky. Becky feels just as
+thankful as I do&mdash;it is all just as beautiful and wonderful
+to her as it is to me. We used to be so lonely and cold and
+hungry, and now&mdash;oh, just think what you have done for
+us! Please let me say just these words. It seems as if I
+<em>ought</em> to say them. <em>Thank</em> you&mdash;<em>thank</em> you&mdash;<em>thank</em> you!</p>
+
+<p class="right">&ldquo;<span class="smcap">The Little Girl in the Attic.</span>&rdquo;<br />
+</p></div>
+
+<p>The next morning she left this on the little table, and
+in the evening it had been taken away with the other things;
+so she knew the Magician had received it, and she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
+happier for the thought. She was reading one of her
+new books to Becky just before they went to their
+respective beds, when her attention was attracted by a
+sound at the skylight. When she looked up from her
+page she saw that Becky had heard the sound also, as she
+had turned her head to look and was listening rather
+nervously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Something&rsquo;s there, miss,&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sara, slowly. &ldquo;It sounds&mdash;rather like a cat&mdash;trying
+to get in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She left her chair and went to the skylight. It was a
+queer little sound she heard&mdash;like a soft scratching. She
+suddenly remembered something and laughed. She remembered
+a quaint little intruder who had made his way
+into the attic once before. She had seen him that very afternoon,
+sitting disconsolately on a table before a window
+in the Indian gentleman&rsquo;s house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose,&rdquo; she whispered in pleased excitement&mdash;&ldquo;just
+suppose it was the monkey who had got away again. Oh,
+I wish it was!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She climbed on a chair, very cautiously raised the skylight,
+and peeped out. It had been snowing all day, and on
+the snow, quite near her, crouched a tiny, shivering figure,
+whose small black face wrinkled itself piteously at sight
+of her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It <em>is</em> the monkey,&rdquo; she cried out. &ldquo;He has crept out
+of the Lascar&rsquo;s attic, and he saw the light.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Becky ran to her side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you going to let him in, miss?&rdquo; she said.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Sara answered joyfully. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s too cold for
+monkeys to be out. They&rsquo;re delicate. I&rsquo;ll coax him in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put a hand out delicately, speaking in a coaxing
+voice&mdash;as she spoke to the sparrows and to Melchisedec&mdash;as
+if she were some friendly little animal herself and lovingly
+understood their timid wildness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, monkey darling,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t
+hurt you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He knew she would not hurt him. He knew it before she
+laid her soft, caressing little paw on him and drew him
+toward her. He had felt human love in the slim brown
+hands of Ram Dass, and he felt it in hers. He let her
+lift him through the skylight, and when he found himself
+in her arms he cuddled up to her breast and took
+friendly hold of a piece of her hair, looking up into her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nice monkey! Nice monkey!&rdquo; she crooned, kissing his
+funny head. &ldquo;Oh, I do love little animal things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="illus254" id="illus254"></a>
+<img src="images/illus254.jpg" width="400" height="535" alt="She sat down and held him on her knee." title="" />
+<br /><span class="caption">She sat down and held him on her knee.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>He was evidently glad to get to the fire, and when she
+sat down and held him on her knee he looked from her to
+Becky with mingled interest and appreciation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He <em>is</em> plain-looking, miss, ain&rsquo;t he?&rdquo; said Becky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He looks like a very ugly baby,&rdquo; laughed Sara. &ldquo;I
+beg your pardon, monkey; but I&rsquo;m glad you are not a
+baby. Your mother <em>couldn&rsquo;t</em> be proud of you, and no one
+would dare to say you looked like any of your relations.
+Oh, I do like you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She leaned back in her chair and reflected.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps he&rsquo;s sorry he&rsquo;s so ugly,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and it&rsquo;s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+always on his mind. I wonder if he <em>has</em> a mind. Monkey,
+my love, have you a mind?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the monkey only put up a tiny paw and scratched
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What shall you do with him?&rdquo; Becky asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall let him sleep with me to-night, and then take
+him back to the Indian gentleman to-morrow. I am sorry
+to take you back, monkey; but you must go. You ought
+to be fondest of your own family; and I&rsquo;m not a <em>real</em>
+relation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And when she went to bed she made him a nest at her
+feet, and he curled up and slept there as if he were a baby
+and much pleased with his quarters.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII<br />
+
+<small>&ldquo;IT IS THE CHILD!&rdquo;</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> next afternoon three members of the Large
+Family sat in the Indian gentleman&rsquo;s library, doing
+their best to cheer him up. They had been
+allowed to come in to perform this office because he had
+specially invited them. He had been living in a state of
+suspense for some time, and to-day he was waiting for
+a certain event very anxiously. This event was the return
+of Mr. Carmichael from Moscow. His stay there had been
+prolonged from week to week. On his first arrival there,
+he had not been able satisfactorily to trace the family he
+had gone in search of. When he felt at last sure that he
+had found them and had gone to their house, he had been
+told that they were absent on a journey. His efforts to
+reach them had been unavailing, so he had decided to remain
+in Moscow until their return. Mr. Carrisford sat in
+his reclining-chair, and Janet sat on the floor beside him.
+He was very fond of Janet. Nora had found a footstool,
+and Donald was astride the tiger&rsquo;s head which ornamented
+the rug made of the animal&rsquo;s skin. It must be
+owned that he was riding it rather violently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t chirrup so loud, Donald,&rdquo; Janet said. &ldquo;When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
+you come to cheer an ill person up you don&rsquo;t cheer him
+up at the top of your voice. Perhaps cheering up is too
+loud, Mr. Carrisford?&rdquo; turning to the Indian gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>But he only patted her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, it isn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;And it keeps me from
+thinking too much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to be quiet,&rdquo; Donald shouted. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll all
+be as quiet as mice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mice don&rsquo;t make a noise like that,&rdquo; said Janet.</p>
+
+<p>Donald made a bridle of his handkerchief and bounced
+up and down on the tiger&rsquo;s head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A whole lot of mice might,&rdquo; he said cheerfully. &ldquo;A
+thousand mice might.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe fifty thousand mice would,&rdquo; said Janet,
+severely; &ldquo;and we have to be as quiet as <em>one</em> mouse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carrisford laughed and patted her shoulder again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Papa won&rsquo;t be very long now,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;May we
+talk about the lost little girl?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I could talk much about anything else
+just now,&rdquo; the Indian gentleman answered, knitting his
+forehead with a tired look.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We like her so much,&rdquo; said Nora. &ldquo;We call her the
+little <em>un</em>-fairy princess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; the Indian gentleman inquired, because the
+fancies of the Large Family always made him forget
+things a little.</p>
+
+<p>It was Janet who answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is because, though she is not exactly a fairy, she will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
+be so rich when she is found that she will be like a princess
+in a fairy tale. We called her the fairy princess at first, but
+it didn&rsquo;t quite suit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it true,&rdquo; said Nora, &ldquo;that her papa gave all his
+money to a friend to put in a mine that had diamonds in
+it, and then the friend thought he had lost it all and ran
+away because he felt as if he was a robber?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he wasn&rsquo;t really, you know,&rdquo; put in Janet, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman took hold of her hand quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, he wasn&rsquo;t really,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry for the friend,&rdquo; Janet said; &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help it.
+He didn&rsquo;t mean to do it, and it would break his heart. I
+am sure it would break his heart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are an understanding little woman, Janet,&rdquo; the
+Indian gentleman said, and he held her hand close.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you tell Mr. Carrisford,&rdquo; Donald shouted again,
+&ldquo;about the little-girl-who-isn&rsquo;t-a-beggar? Did you tell
+him she has new nice clothes? P&rsquo;r&rsquo;aps she&rsquo;s been found by
+somebody when she was lost.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a cab!&rdquo; exclaimed Janet. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s stopping before
+the door. It is papa!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They all ran to the windows to look out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it&rsquo;s papa,&rdquo; Donald proclaimed. &ldquo;But there is no
+little girl.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All three of them incontinently fled from the room and
+tumbled into the hall. It was in this way they always welcomed
+their father. They were to be heard jumping up
+and down, clapping their hands, and being caught up and
+kissed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carrisford made an effort to rise and sank back
+again into his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is no use,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What a wreck I am!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael&rsquo;s voice approached the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, children,&rdquo; he was saying; &ldquo;you may come in after
+I have talked to Mr. Carrisford. Go and play with Ram
+Dass.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the door opened and he came in. He looked
+rosier than ever, and brought an atmosphere of freshness
+and health with him; but his eyes were disappointed and
+anxious as they met the invalid&rsquo;s look of eager question
+even as they grasped each other&rsquo;s hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What news?&rdquo; Mr. Carrisford asked. &ldquo;The child the
+Russian people adopted?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is not the child we are looking for,&rdquo; was Mr. Carmichael&rsquo;s
+answer. &ldquo;She is much younger than Captain
+Crewe&rsquo;s little girl. Her name is Emily Carew. I have
+seen and talked to her. The Russians were able to give
+me every detail.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>How wearied and miserable the Indian gentleman
+looked! His hand dropped from Mr. Carmichael&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then the search has to be begun over again,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;That is all. Please sit down.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael took a seat. Somehow, he had gradually
+grown fond of this unhappy man. He was himself so well
+and happy, and so surrounded by cheerfulness and love,
+that desolation and broken health seemed pitifully unbearable
+things. If there had been the sound of just one gay
+little high-pitched voice in the house, it would have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
+so much less forlorn. And that a man should be compelled
+to carry about in his breast the thought that he had
+seemed to wrong and desert a child was not a thing one
+could face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, come,&rdquo; he said in his cheery voice; &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll find
+her yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must begin at once. No time must be lost,&rdquo; Mr.
+Carrisford fretted. &ldquo;Have you any new suggestion to
+make&mdash;any whatsoever?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael felt rather restless, and he rose and began
+to pace the room with a thoughtful, though uncertain
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, perhaps,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what it may be
+worth. The fact is, an idea occurred to me as I was thinking
+the thing over in the train on the journey from Dover.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was it? If she is alive, she is somewhere.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; she is <em>somewhere</em>. We have searched the schools
+in Paris. Let us give up Paris and begin in London.
+That was my idea&mdash;to search London.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are schools enough in London,&rdquo; said Mr. Carrisford.
+Then he slightly started, roused by a recollection.
+&ldquo;By the way, there is one next door.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then we will begin there. We cannot begin nearer
+than next door.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Carrisford. &ldquo;There is a child there who interests
+me; but she is not a pupil. And she is a little dark,
+forlorn creature, as unlike poor Crewe as a child could be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the Magic was at work again at that very moment&mdash;the
+beautiful Magic. It really seemed as if it might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
+be so. What was it that brought Ram Dass into the room&mdash;even
+as his master spoke&mdash;salaaming respectfully, but
+with a scarcely concealed touch of excitement in his dark,
+flashing eyes?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sahib,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the child herself has come&mdash;the child
+the sahib felt pity for. She brings back the monkey who
+had again run away to her attic under the roof. I have
+asked that she remain. It was my thought that it would
+please the sahib to see and speak with her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is she?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Carmichael.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;God knows,&rdquo; Mr. Carrisford answered. &ldquo;She is the
+child I spoke of. A little drudge at the school.&rdquo; He
+waved his hand to Ram Dass, and addressed him. &ldquo;Yes, I
+should like to see her. Go and bring her in.&rdquo; Then he
+turned to Mr. Carmichael. &ldquo;While you have been away,&rdquo;
+he explained, &ldquo;I have been desperate. The days were so
+dark and long. Ram Dass told me of this child&rsquo;s miseries,
+and together we invented a romantic plan to help her. I
+suppose it was a childish thing to do; but it gave me something
+to plan and think of. Without the help of an agile,
+soft-footed Oriental like Ram Dass, however, it could not
+have been done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Sara came into the room. She carried the monkey
+in her arms, and he evidently did not intend to part from
+her, if it could be helped. He was clinging to her and chattering,
+and the interesting excitement of finding herself in
+the Indian gentleman&rsquo;s room had brought a flush to Sara&rsquo;s
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your monkey ran away again,&rdquo; she said, in her pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
+voice. &ldquo;He came to my garret window last night, and I
+took him in because it was so cold. I would have brought
+him back if it had not been so late. I knew you were ill
+and might not like to be disturbed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman&rsquo;s hollow eyes dwelt on her with
+curious interest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was very thoughtful of you,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked toward Ram Dass, who stood near the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I give him to the Lascar?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you know he is a Lascar?&rdquo; said the Indian
+gentleman, smiling a little.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I know Lascars,&rdquo; Sara said, handing over the reluctant
+monkey. &ldquo;I was born in India.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman sat upright so suddenly, and with
+such a change of expression, that she was for a moment
+quite startled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were born in India,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;were you?
+Come here.&rdquo; And he held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Sara went to him and laid her hand in his, as he seemed
+to want to take it. She stood still, and her green-gray eyes
+met his wonderingly. Something seemed to be the matter
+with him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You live next door?&rdquo; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I live at Miss Minchin&rsquo;s seminary.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you are not one of her pupils?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A strange little smile hovered about Sara&rsquo;s mouth. She
+hesitated a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I know exactly <em>what</em> I am,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At first I was a pupil, and a parlor-boarder; but
+now&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were a pupil! What are you now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The queer little sad smile was on Sara&rsquo;s lips again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sleep in the attic, next to the scullery-maid,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;I run errands for the cook&mdash;I do anything she tells me;
+and I teach the little ones their lessons.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Question her, Carmichael,&rdquo; said Mr. Carrisford, sinking
+back as if he had lost his strength. &ldquo;Question her; I
+cannot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The big, kind father of the Large Family knew how to
+question little girls. Sara realized how much practice he
+had had when he spoke to her in his nice, encouraging
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean by &lsquo;At first,&rsquo; my child?&rdquo; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I was first taken there by my papa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is your papa?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He died,&rdquo; said Sara, very quietly. &ldquo;He lost all his
+money and there was none left for me. There was no one
+to take care of me or to pay Miss Minchin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Carmichael!&rdquo; the Indian gentleman cried out loudly;
+&ldquo;Carmichael!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must not frighten her,&rdquo; Mr. Carmichael said aside
+to him in a quick, low voice; and he added aloud to Sara:
+&ldquo;So you were sent up into the attic, and made into a little
+drudge. That was about it, wasn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There was no one to take care of me,&rdquo; said Sara.
+&ldquo;There was no money; I belong to nobody.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How did your father lose his money?&rdquo; the Indian gentleman
+broke in breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He did not lose it himself,&rdquo; Sara answered, wondering
+still more each moment. &ldquo;He had a friend he was very
+fond of&mdash;he was <em>very</em> fond of him. It was his friend who
+took his money. He trusted his friend too much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman&rsquo;s breath came more quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The friend might have <em>meant</em> to do no harm,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;It might have happened through a mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara did not know how unrelenting her quiet young
+voice sounded as she answered. If she had known, she
+would surely have tried to soften it for the Indian gentleman&rsquo;s
+sake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The suffering was just as bad for my papa,&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;It killed him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was your father&rsquo;s name?&rdquo; the Indian gentleman
+said. &ldquo;Tell me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His name was Ralph Crewe,&rdquo; Sara answered, feeling
+startled. &ldquo;Captain Crewe. He died in India.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The haggard face contracted, and Ram Dass sprang to
+his master&rsquo;s side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Carmichael,&rdquo; the invalid gasped, &ldquo;it is the child&mdash;the
+child!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Sara thought he was going to die. Ram
+Dass poured out drops from a bottle, and held them to his
+lips. Sara stood near, trembling a little. She looked in a
+bewildered way at Mr. Carmichael.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What child am I?&rdquo; she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was your father&rsquo;s friend,&rdquo; Mr. Carmichael answered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+her. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be frightened. We have been looking
+for you for two years.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara put her hand up to her forehead, and her mouth
+trembled. She spoke as if she were in a dream.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I was at Miss Minchin&rsquo;s all the while,&rdquo; she half
+whispered. &ldquo;Just on the other side of the wall.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII<br />
+
+<small>&ldquo;I TRIED NOT TO BE&rdquo;</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">It</span> was pretty, comfortable Mrs. Carmichael who explained
+everything. She was sent for at once, and
+came across the square to take Sara into her warm
+arms and make clear to her all that had happened. The excitement
+of the totally unexpected discovery had been temporarily
+almost overpowering to Mr. Carrisford in his weak
+condition.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon my word,&rdquo; he said faintly to Mr. Carmichael,
+when it was suggested that the little girl should go into
+another room, &ldquo;I feel as if I do not want to lose sight of
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will take care of her,&rdquo; Janet said, &ldquo;and mamma will
+come in a few minutes.&rdquo; And it was Janet who led her
+away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re so glad you are found,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t
+know how glad we are that you are found.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Donald stood with his hands in his pockets, and gazed
+at Sara with reflecting and self-reproachful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I&rsquo;d just asked what your name was when I gave
+you my sixpence,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you would have told me it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+Sara Crewe, and then you would have been found in a
+minute.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Carmichael came in. She looked very much
+moved, and suddenly took Sara in her arms and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You look bewildered, poor child,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And it is
+not to be wondered at.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara could only think of one thing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was he,&rdquo; she said, with a glance toward the closed
+door of the library&mdash;&ldquo;was <em>he</em> the wicked friend? Oh, do
+tell me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Carmichael was crying as she kissed her again.
+She felt as if she ought to be kissed very often because she
+had not been kissed for so long.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was not wicked, my dear,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;He did
+not really lose your papa&rsquo;s money. He only thought he
+had lost it; and because he loved him so much his grief
+made him so ill that for a time he was not in his right mind.
+He almost died of brain-fever, and long before he began to
+recover your poor papa was dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And he did not know where to find me,&rdquo; murmured
+Sara. &ldquo;And I was so near.&rdquo; Somehow, she could not forget
+that she had been so near.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He believed you were in school in France,&rdquo; Mrs. Carmichael
+explained. &ldquo;And he was continually misled by
+false clues. He has looked for you everywhere. When
+he saw you pass by, looking so sad and neglected, he did
+not dream that you were his friend&rsquo;s poor child; but because
+you were a little girl, too, he was sorry for you, and
+wanted to make you happier. And he told Ram Dass to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+climb into your attic window and try to make you comfortable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara gave a start of joy; her whole look changed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did Ram Dass bring the things?&rdquo; she cried out; &ldquo;did
+he tell Ram Dass to do it? Did he make the dream that
+came true!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my dear&mdash;yes! He is kind and good, and he was
+sorry for you, for little lost Sara Crewe&rsquo;s sake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The library door opened and Mr. Carmichael appeared,
+calling Sara to him with a gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Carrisford is better already,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He wants
+you to come to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara did not wait. When the Indian gentleman looked
+at her as she entered, he saw that her face was all alight.</p>
+
+<p>She went and stood before his chair, with her hands
+clasped together against her breast.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You sent the things to me,&rdquo; she said, in a joyful emotional
+little voice&mdash;&ldquo;the beautiful, beautiful things? <em>You</em>
+sent them!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, poor, dear child, I did,&rdquo; he answered her. He
+was weak and broken with long illness and trouble, but he
+looked at her with the look she remembered in her father&rsquo;s
+eyes&mdash;that look of loving her and wanting to take her in
+his arms. It made her kneel down by him, just as she used
+to kneel by her father when they were the dearest friends
+and lovers in the world.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then it is you who are my friend,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;it is
+you who are my friend!&rdquo; And she dropped her face on
+his thin hand and kissed it again and again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The man will be himself again in three weeks,&rdquo; Mr.
+Carmichael said aside to his wife. &ldquo;Look at his face already.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In fact, he did look changed. Here was the &ldquo;little missus,&rdquo;
+and he had new things to think of and plan for already.
+In the first place, there was Miss Minchin. She
+must be interviewed and told of the change which had
+taken place in the fortunes of her pupil.</p>
+
+<p>Sara was not to return to the seminary at all. The Indian
+gentleman was very determined upon that point. She
+must remain where she was, and Mr. Carmichael should go
+and see Miss Minchin himself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad I need not go back,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;She will
+be very angry. She does not like me; though perhaps it is
+my fault, because I do not like her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But, oddly enough, Miss Minchin made it unnecessary
+for Mr. Carmichael to go to her, by actually coming in
+search of her pupil herself. She had wanted Sara for
+something, and on inquiry had heard an astonishing thing.
+One of the housemaids had seen her steal out of the area
+with something hidden under her cloak, and had also seen
+her go up the steps of the next door and enter the house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does she mean!&rdquo; cried Miss Minchin to Miss
+Amelia.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, I&rsquo;m sure, sister,&rdquo; answered Miss Amelia.
+&ldquo;Unless she has made friends with him because he has lived
+in India.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It would be just like her to thrust herself upon him
+and try to gain his sympathies in some such impertinent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>
+fashion,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin. &ldquo;She must have been in the
+house two hours. I will not allow such presumption. I
+shall go and inquire into the matter, and apologize for her
+intrusion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara was sitting on a footstool close to Mr. Carrisford&rsquo;s
+knee, and listening to some of the many things he felt it necessary
+to try to explain to her, when Ram Dass announced
+the visitor&rsquo;s arrival.</p>
+
+<p>Sara rose involuntarily, and became rather pale; but Mr.
+Carrisford saw that she stood quietly, and showed none of
+the ordinary signs of child terror.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin entered the room with a sternly dignified
+manner. She was correctly and well dressed, and rigidly
+polite.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry to disturb Mr. Carrisford,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but
+I have explanations to make. I am Miss Minchin, the proprietress
+of the Young Ladies&rsquo; Seminary next door.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman looked at her for a moment in
+silent scrutiny. He was a man who had naturally a rather
+hot temper, and he did not wish it to get too much the better
+of him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you are Miss Minchin?&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In that case,&rdquo; the Indian gentleman replied, &ldquo;you have
+arrived at the right time. My solicitor, Mr. Carmichael,
+was just on the point of going to see you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael bowed slightly, and Miss Minchin
+looked from him to Mr. Carrisford in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your solicitor!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I do not understand. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+have come here as a matter of duty. I have just discovered
+that you have been intruded upon through the forwardness
+of one of my pupils&mdash;a charity pupil. I came to explain
+that she intruded without my knowledge.&rdquo; She turned
+upon Sara. &ldquo;Go home at once,&rdquo; she commanded indignantly.
+&ldquo;You shall be severely punished. Go home at
+once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman drew Sara to his side and patted
+her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is not going.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin felt rather as if she must be losing her
+senses.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not going!&rdquo; she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mr. Carrisford. &ldquo;She is not going <em>home</em>&mdash;if
+you give your house that name. Her home for the future
+will be with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin fell back in amazed indignation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With <em>you!</em> With <em>you</em>, sir! What does this mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Kindly explain the matter, Carmichael,&rdquo; said the Indian
+gentleman; &ldquo;and get it over as quickly as possible.&rdquo;
+And he made Sara sit down again, and held her hands in
+his&mdash;which was another trick of her papa&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Carmichael explained&mdash;in the quiet, level-toned,
+steady manner of a man who knew his subject, and
+all its legal significance, which was a thing Miss Minchin
+understood as a business woman, and did not enjoy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Carrisford, madam,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;was an intimate
+friend of the late Captain Crewe. He was his partner in
+certain large investments. The fortune which Captain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
+Crewe supposed he had lost has been recovered, and is now
+in Mr. Carrisford&rsquo;s hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The fortune!&rdquo; cried Miss Minchin; and she really lost
+color as she uttered the exclamation. &ldquo;Sara&rsquo;s fortune!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It <em>will</em> be Sara&rsquo;s fortune,&rdquo; replied Mr. Carmichael, rather
+coldly. &ldquo;It <em>is</em> Sara&rsquo;s fortune now, in fact. Certain
+events have increased it enormously. The diamond-mines
+have retrieved themselves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The diamond-mines!&rdquo; Miss Minchin gasped out. If
+this was true, nothing so horrible, she felt, had ever happened
+to her since she was born.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The diamond-mines,&rdquo; Mr. Carmichael repeated, and he
+could not help adding, with a rather sly, unlawyer-like
+smile: &ldquo;There are not many princesses, Miss Minchin, who
+are richer than your little charity pupil, Sara Crewe, will
+be. Mr. Carrisford has been searching for her for nearly
+two years; he has found her at last, and he will keep her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After which he asked Miss Minchin to sit down while
+he explained matters to her fully, and went into such
+detail as was necessary to make it quite clear to her that
+Sara&rsquo;s future was an assured one, and that what had
+seemed to be lost was to be restored to her tenfold; also,
+that she had in Mr. Carrisford a guardian as well as a
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin was not a clever woman, and in her excitement
+she was silly enough to make one desperate effort
+to regain what she could not help seeing she had lost
+through her own worldly folly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He found her under my care,&rdquo; she protested. &ldquo;I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
+done everything for her. But for me she would have
+starved in the streets.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here the Indian gentleman lost his temper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As to starving in the streets,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;she might have
+starved more comfortably there than in your attic.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Captain Crewe left her in my charge,&rdquo; Miss Minchin
+argued. &ldquo;She must return to it until she is of age. She
+can be a parlor-boarder again. She must finish her education.
+The law will interfere in my behalf.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, come, Miss Minchin,&rdquo; Mr. Carmichael interposed,
+&ldquo;the law will do nothing of the sort. If Sara herself
+wishes to return to you, I dare say Mr. Carrisford
+might not refuse to allow it. But that rests with Sara.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin, &ldquo;I appeal to Sara. I
+have not spoiled you, perhaps,&rdquo; she said awkwardly to the
+little girl; &ldquo;but you know that your papa was pleased with
+your progress. And&mdash;ahem!&mdash;I have always been fond of
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara&rsquo;s green-gray eyes fixed themselves on her with the
+quiet, clear look Miss Minchin particularly disliked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have <em>you</em>, Miss Minchin?&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I did not know
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Minchin reddened and drew herself up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to have known it,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;but children,
+unfortunately, never know what is best for them. Amelia
+and I always said you were the cleverest child in the
+school. Will you not do your duty to your poor papa and
+come home with me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara took a step toward her and stood still. She was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+thinking of the day when she had been told that she belonged
+to nobody, and was in danger of being turned into
+the street; she was thinking of the cold, hungry hours she
+had spent alone with Emily and Melchisedec in the attic.
+She looked Miss Minchin steadily in the face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know why I will not go home with you, Miss
+Minchin,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;you know quite well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A hot flush showed itself on Miss Minchin&rsquo;s hard, angry
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will never see your companions again,&rdquo; she began.
+&ldquo;I will see that Ermengarde and Lottie are kept
+away&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Carmichael stopped her with polite firmness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;she will see any one she wishes
+to see. The parents of Miss Crewe&rsquo;s fellow-pupils are not
+likely to refuse her invitations to visit her at her guardian&rsquo;s
+house. Mr. Carrisford will attend to that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It must be confessed that even Miss Minchin flinched.
+This was worse than the eccentric bachelor uncle who might
+have a peppery temper and be easily offended at the treatment
+of his niece. A woman of sordid mind could easily
+believe that most people would not refuse to allow their
+children to remain friends with a little heiress of diamond-mines.
+And if Mr. Carrisford chose to tell certain of
+her patrons how unhappy Sara Crewe had been made,
+many unpleasant things might happen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have not undertaken an easy charge,&rdquo; she said to
+the Indian gentleman, as she turned to leave the room;
+&ldquo;you will discover that very soon. The child is neither<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
+truthful nor grateful. I suppose&rdquo;&mdash;to Sara&mdash;&ldquo;that you
+feel now that you are a princess again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked down and flushed a little, because she
+thought her pet fancy might not be easy for strangers&mdash;even
+nice ones&mdash;to understand at first.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;tried not to be anything else,&rdquo; she answered in a
+low voice&mdash;&ldquo;even when I was coldest and hungriest&mdash;I
+<em>tried</em> not to be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now it will not be necessary to try,&rdquo; said Miss Minchin,
+acidly, as Ram Dass salaamed her out of the room.</p>
+
+<p class="dot">.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.</p>
+
+<p>She returned home and, going to her sitting-room, sent at
+once for Miss Amelia. She sat closeted with her all the rest
+of the afternoon, and it must be admitted that poor Miss
+Amelia passed through more than one bad quarter of an
+hour. She shed a good many tears, and mopped her eyes
+a good deal. One of her unfortunate remarks almost
+caused her sister to snap her head entirely off, but it resulted
+in an unusual manner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not as clever as you, sister,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and I am
+always afraid to say things to you for fear of making you
+angry. Perhaps if I were not so timid it would be better
+for the school and for both of us. I must say I&rsquo;ve often
+thought it would have been better if you had been less
+severe on Sara Crewe, and had seen that she was decently
+dressed and more comfortable. I know she was worked
+too hard for a child of her age, and I <em>know</em> she was only
+half fed&mdash;&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How dare you say such a thing!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Minchin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know how I dare,&rdquo; Miss Amelia answered, with
+a kind of reckless courage; &ldquo;but now I&rsquo;ve begun I may
+as well finish, whatever happens to me. The child was a
+clever child and a good child&mdash;and she would have paid
+you for any kindness you had shown her. But you didn&rsquo;t
+show her any. The fact was, she was too clever for you,
+and you always disliked her for that reason. She used to
+see through us both&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Amelia!&rdquo; gasped her infuriated elder, looking as if
+she would box her ears and knock her cap off, as she had
+often done to Becky.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Amelia&rsquo;s disappointment had made her hysterical
+enough not to care what occurred next.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She did! She did!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;She saw through us
+both. She saw that you were a hard-hearted, worldly woman,
+and that I was a weak fool, and that we were both
+of us vulgar and mean enough to grovel on our knees
+before her money, and behave ill to her because it was taken
+from her&mdash;though she behaved herself like a little princess
+even when she was a beggar. She did&mdash;she did&mdash;like
+a little princess!&rdquo; and her hysterics got the better of the
+poor woman, and she began to laugh and cry both at once,
+and rock herself backward and forward in such a way as
+made Miss Minchin stare aghast.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now you&rsquo;ve lost her,&rdquo; she cried wildly; &ldquo;and some
+other school will get her and her money; and if she were
+like any other child she&rsquo;d tell how she&rsquo;s been treated, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+all our pupils would be taken away and we should be
+ruined. And it serves us right; but it serves you right more
+than it does me, for you are a hard woman, Maria Minchin&mdash;you&rsquo;re
+a hard, selfish, worldly woman!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she was in danger of making so much noise with
+her hysterical chokes and gurgles that her sister was
+obliged to go to her and apply salts and sal volatile to
+quiet her, instead of pouring forth her indignation at her
+audacity.</p>
+
+<p>And from that time forward, it may be mentioned,
+the elder Miss Minchin actually began to stand a little
+in awe of a sister who, while she looked so foolish, was
+evidently not quite so foolish as she looked, and might, consequently,
+break out and speak truths people did not want
+to hear.</p>
+
+<p>That evening, when the pupils were gathered together
+before the fire in the school-room, as was their custom
+before going to bed, Ermengarde came in with a letter in
+her hand and a queer expression on her round face. It was
+queer because, while it was an expression of delighted excitement,
+it was combined with such amazement as seemed
+to belong to a kind of shock just received.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What <em>is</em> the matter?&rdquo; cried two or three voices at once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it anything to do with the row that has been going
+on?&rdquo; said Lavinia, eagerly. &ldquo;There has been such a row
+in Miss Minchin&rsquo;s room, Miss Amelia has had something
+like hysterics and has had to go to bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half
+stunned.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have just had this letter from Sara,&rdquo; she said, holding
+it out to let them see what a long letter it was.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;From Sara!&rdquo; Every voice joined in that exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is she?&rdquo; almost shrieked Jessie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Next door,&rdquo; said Ermengarde, still slowly; &ldquo;with the
+Indian gentleman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where? Where? Has she been sent away? Does
+Miss Minchin know? Was the row about that? Why did
+she write? Tell us! Tell us!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a perfect babel, and Lottie began to cry
+plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half
+plunged out into what, at the moment, seemed the most
+important and self-explaining thing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There <em>were</em> diamond-mines,&rdquo; she said stoutly; &ldquo;there
+<em>were!&rdquo;</em></p>
+
+<p>Open mouths and open eyes confronted her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They were real,&rdquo; she hurried on. &ldquo;It was all a mistake
+about them. Something happened for a time, and
+Mr. Carrisford thought they were ruined&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is Mr. Carrisford?&rdquo; shouted Jessie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Indian gentleman. And Captain Crewe thought
+so, too&mdash;and he died; and Mr. Carrisford had brain-fever
+and ran away, and <em>he</em> almost died. And he did not know
+where Sara was. And it turned out that there were millions
+and millions of diamonds in the mines; and half of
+them belong to Sara; and they belonged to her when she
+was living in the attic with no one but Melchisedec for a
+friend, and the cook ordering her about. And Mr. Carrisford<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+found her this afternoon, and he has got her in his
+home&mdash;and she will never come back&mdash;and she will be more
+a princess than she ever was&mdash;a hundred and fifty thousand
+times more. And I am going to see her to-morrow afternoon.
+There!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Even Miss Minchin herself could scarcely have controlled
+the uproar after this; and though she heard the
+noise, she did not try. She was not in the mood to face anything
+more than she was facing in her room, while Miss
+Amelia was weeping in bed. She knew that the news had
+penetrated the walls in some mysterious manner, and that
+every servant and every child would go to bed talking
+about it.</p>
+
+<p>So until almost midnight the entire seminary, realizing
+somehow that all rules were laid aside, crowded round Ermengarde
+in the school-room and heard read and re-read the
+letter containing a story which was quite as wonderful as
+any Sara herself had ever invented, and which had the
+amazing charm of having happened to Sara herself and
+the mystic Indian gentleman in the very next house.</p>
+
+<p>Becky, who had heard it also, managed to creep up-stairs
+earlier than usual. She wanted to get away from people
+and go and look at the little magic room once more. She
+did not know what would happen to it. It was not likely
+that it would be left to Miss Minchin. It would be taken
+away, and the attic would be bare and empty again. Glad
+as she was for Sara&rsquo;s sake, she went up the last flight of
+stairs with a lump in her throat and tears blurring her
+sight. There would be no fire to-night, and no rosy lamp;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>
+no supper, and no princess sitting in the glow reading or
+telling stories&mdash;no princess!</p>
+
+<p>She choked down a sob as she pushed the attic door open,
+and then she broke into a low cry.</p>
+
+<p>The lamp was flushing the room, the fire was blazing, the
+supper was waiting; and Ram Dass was standing smiling
+into her startled face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Missee sahib remembered,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;She told the
+sahib all. She wished you to know the good fortune which
+has befallen her. Behold a letter on the tray. She has
+written. She did not wish that you should go to sleep unhappy.
+The sahib commands you to come to him to-morrow.
+You are to be the attendant of missee sahib. To-night
+I take these things back over the roof.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And having said this with a beaming face, he made a
+little salaam and slipped through the skylight with an agile
+silentness of movement which showed Becky how easily he
+had done it before.</p>
+<hr class="l1"/>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX<br />
+
+<small>&ldquo;ANNE&rdquo;</small></h2>
+
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Never</span> had such joy reigned in the nursery of the
+Large Family. Never had they dreamed of such
+delights as resulted from an intimate acquaintance
+with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. The mere fact
+of her sufferings and adventures made her a priceless possession.
+Everybody wanted to be told over and over again
+the things which had happened to her. When one was sitting
+by a warm fire in a big, glowing room, it was quite
+delightful to hear how cold it could be in an attic. It
+must be admitted that the attic was rather delighted in, and
+that its coldness and bareness quite sank into insignificance
+when Melchisedec was remembered, and one heard
+about the sparrows and things one could see if one climbed
+on the table and stuck one&rsquo;s head and shoulders out of the
+skylight.</p>
+
+<p>Of course the thing loved best was the story of the banquet
+and the dream which was true. Sara told it for the
+first time the day after she had been found. Several members
+of the Large Family came to take tea with her, and
+as they sat or curled up on the hearth-rug she told the story
+in her own way, and the Indian gentleman listened and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
+watched her. When she had finished she looked up at him
+and put her hand on his knee.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is my part,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Now won&rsquo;t you tell your
+part of it, Uncle Tom?&rdquo; He had asked her to call him
+always &ldquo;Uncle Tom.&rdquo; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know your part yet, and
+it must be beautiful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So he told them how, when he sat alone, ill and dull and
+irritable, Ram Dass had tried to distract him by describing
+the passers by, and there was one child who passed oftener
+than any one else; he had begun to be interested in her&mdash;partly
+perhaps because he was thinking a great deal of a
+little girl, and partly because Ram Dass had been able to
+relate the incident of his visit to the attic in chase of the
+monkey. He had described its cheerless look, and the bearing
+of the child, who seemed as if she was not of the class
+of those who were treated as drudges and servants. Bit
+by bit, Ram Dass had made discoveries concerning the
+wretchedness of her life. He had found out how easy a
+matter it was to climb across the few yards of roof to the
+skylight, and this fact had been the beginning of all that
+followed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sahib,&rdquo; he had said one day, &ldquo;I could cross the slates
+and make the child a fire when she is out on some errand.
+When she returned, wet and cold, to find it blazing, she
+would think a magician had done it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The idea had been so fanciful that Mr. Carrisford&rsquo;s sad
+face had lighted with a smile, and Ram Dass had been so
+filled with rapture that he had enlarged upon it and explained
+to his master how simple it would be to accomplish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
+numbers of other things. He had shown a childlike pleasure
+and invention, and the preparations for the carrying
+out of the plan had filled many a day with interest which
+would otherwise have dragged wearily. On the night of the
+frustrated banquet Ram Dass had kept watch, all his packages
+being in readiness in the attic which was his own; and
+the person who was to help him had waited with him, as interested
+as himself in the odd adventure. Ram Dass had
+been lying flat upon the slates, looking in at the skylight,
+when the banquet had come to its disastrous conclusion;
+he had been sure of the profoundness of Sara&rsquo;s wearied
+sleep; and then, with a dark lantern, he had crept into the
+room, while his companion had remained outside and
+handed the things to him. When Sara had stirred ever so
+faintly, Ram Dass had closed the lantern-slide and lain
+flat upon the floor. These and many other exciting things
+the children found out by asking a thousand questions.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so glad,&rdquo; Sara said. &ldquo;I am so <em>glad</em> it was you
+who were my friend!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There never were such friends as these two became.
+Somehow, they seemed to suit each other in a wonderful
+way. The Indian gentleman had never had a companion
+he liked quite as much as he liked Sara. In a month&rsquo;s time
+he was, as Mr. Carmichael had prophesied he would be, a
+new man. He was always amused and interested, and he
+began to find an actual pleasure in the possession of the
+wealth he had imagined that he loathed the burden of.
+There were so many charming things to plan for Sara.
+There was a little joke between them that he was a magician,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+and it was one of his pleasures to invent things to
+surprise her. She found beautiful new flowers growing
+in her room, whimsical little gifts tucked under pillows,
+and once, as they sat together in the evening, they heard
+the scratch of a heavy paw on the door, and when Sara went
+to find out what it was, there stood a great dog&mdash;a splendid
+Russian boarhound&mdash;with a grand silver and gold collar
+bearing an inscription in raised letters. &ldquo;I am Boris,&rdquo; it
+read; &ldquo;I serve the Princess Sara.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing the Indian gentleman loved more
+than the recollection of the little princess in rags and tatters.
+The afternoons in which the Large Family, or Ermengarde
+and Lottie, gathered to rejoice together were
+very delightful. But the hours when Sara and the Indian
+gentleman sat alone and read or talked had a special charm
+of their own. During their passing many interesting
+things occurred.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter"><a name="illus286" id="illus286"></a>
+<img src="images/illus286.jpg" width="400" height="532" alt="Noticed that his companion &hellip; sat gazing into the fire." title="" />
+<br /><span class="caption">Noticed that his companion &hellip; sat gazing into the fire.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>One evening, Mr. Carrisford, looking up from his book,
+noticed that his companion had not stirred for some time,
+but sat gazing into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you &lsquo;supposing,&rsquo; Sara?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Sara looked up, with a bright color on her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <em>was</em> supposing,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I was remembering that
+hungry day, and a child I saw.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But there were a great many hungry days,&rdquo; said the
+Indian gentleman, with rather a sad tone in his voice.
+&ldquo;Which hungry day was it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I forgot you didn&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;It was the
+day the dream came true.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then she told him the story of the bun-shop, and the
+fourpence she picked up out of the sloppy mud, and the
+child who was hungrier than herself. She told it quite
+simply, and in as few words as possible; but somehow the
+Indian gentleman found it necessary to shade his eyes with
+his hand and look down at the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I was supposing a kind of plan,&rdquo; she said, when
+she had finished. &ldquo;I was thinking I should like to do something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was it?&rdquo; said Mr. Carrisford, in a low tone.
+&ldquo;You may do anything you like to do, princess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was wondering,&rdquo; rather hesitated Sara&mdash;&ldquo;you know,
+you say I have so much money&mdash;I was wondering if I could
+go to see the bun-woman, and tell her that if, when hungry
+children&mdash;particularly on those dreadful days&mdash;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. Could I do that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall do it to-morrow morning,&rdquo; said the Indian
+gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;You see, I know what it is
+to be hungry, and it is very hard when one cannot even
+<em>pretend</em> it away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes, my dear,&rdquo; said the Indian gentleman. &ldquo;Yes,
+yes, it must be. Try to forget it. Come and sit on this
+footstool near my knee, and only remember you are a princess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sara, smiling; &ldquo;and I can give buns and
+bread to the populace.&rdquo; And she went and sat on the stool,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+and the Indian gentleman (he used to like her to call him
+that, too, sometimes) drew her small dark head down upon
+his knee and stroked her hair.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, Miss Minchin, in looking out of her
+window, saw the thing she perhaps least enjoyed seeing.
+The Indian gentleman&rsquo;s carriage, with its tall horses, drew
+up before the door of the next house, and its owner and
+a little figure, warm with soft, rich furs, descended the
+steps to get into it. The little figure was a familiar one,
+and reminded Miss Minchin of days in the past. It was
+followed by another as familiar&mdash;the sight of which she
+found very irritating. It was Becky, who, in the character
+of delighted attendant, always accompanied her young mistress
+to her carriage, carrying wraps and belongings. Already
+Becky had a pink, round face.</p>
+
+<p>A little later the carriage drew up before the door of
+the baker&rsquo;s shop, and its occupants got out, oddly enough,
+just as the bun-woman was putting a tray of smoking-hot
+buns into the window.</p>
+
+<p>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>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure that I remember you, miss,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And
+yet&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Sara; &ldquo;once you gave me six buns for fourpence,
+and&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you gave five of &rsquo;em to a beggar child,&rdquo; the woman
+broke in on her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve always remembered it. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
+couldn&rsquo;t make it out at first.&rdquo; She turned round to the
+Indian gentleman and spoke her next words to him. &ldquo;I
+beg your pardon, sir, but there&rsquo;s not many young people
+that notices a hungry face in that way; and I&rsquo;ve thought
+of it many a time. Excuse the liberty, miss,&rdquo;&mdash;to Sara,&mdash;&ldquo;but
+you look rosier and&mdash;well, better than you did that&mdash;that&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am better, thank you,&rdquo; said Sara. &ldquo;And&mdash;I am
+much happier&mdash;and I have come to ask you to do something
+for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Me, miss!&rdquo; exclaimed the bun-woman, smiling cheerfully.
+&ldquo;Why, bless you! yes, miss. What can I do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And then Sara, leaning on the counter, made her little
+proposal concerning the dreadful days and the hungry
+waifs and the hot buns.</p>
+
+<p>The woman watched her, and listened with an astonished
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, bless me!&rdquo; she said again when she had heard
+it all; &ldquo;it&rsquo;ll be a pleasure to me to do it. I am a working-woman
+myself and cannot afford to do much on my own
+account, and there&rsquo;s sights of trouble on every side; but,
+if you&rsquo;ll excuse me, I&rsquo;m bound to say I&rsquo;ve given away
+many a bit of bread since that wet afternoon, just along o&rsquo;
+thinking of you&mdash;an&rsquo; how wet an&rsquo; cold you was, an&rsquo; how
+hungry you looked; an&rsquo; yet you gave away your hot buns
+as if you was a princess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Indian gentleman smiled involuntarily at this, and
+Sara smiled a little, too, remembering what she had said
+to herself when she put the buns down on the ravenous
+child&rsquo;s ragged lap.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She looked so hungry,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;She was even hungrier
+than I was.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She was starving,&rdquo; said the woman. &ldquo;Many&rsquo;s the
+time she&rsquo;s told me of it since&mdash;how she sat there in the
+wet, and felt as if a wolf was a-tearing at her poor young
+insides.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, have you seen her since then?&rdquo; exclaimed Sara.
+&ldquo;Do you know where she is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I do,&rdquo; answered the woman, smiling more good-naturedly
+than ever. &ldquo;Why, she&rsquo;s in that there back
+room, miss, an&rsquo; has been for a month; an&rsquo; a decent, well-meanin&rsquo;
+girl she&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; to turn out, an&rsquo; such a help to me
+in the shop an&rsquo; in the kitchen as you&rsquo;d scarce believe,
+knowin&rsquo; how she&rsquo;s lived.&rdquo;</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. She knew Sara in
+an instant, and stood and looked at her as if she could never
+look enough.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said the woman, &ldquo;I told her to come when
+she was hungry, and when she&rsquo;d come I&rsquo;d give her odd
+jobs to do; an&rsquo; I found she was willing, and somehow I
+got to like her; and the end of it was, I&rsquo;ve given her a
+place an&rsquo; a home, and she helps me, an&rsquo; behaves well, an&rsquo;
+is as thankful as a girl can be. Her name&rsquo;s Anne. She
+has no other.&rdquo;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The children stood and looked at each other for a few
+minutes; and then Sara took her hand out of her muff and
+held it out across the counter, and Anne took it, and they
+looked straight into each other&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so glad,&rdquo; Sara said. &ldquo;And I have just thought
+of something. Perhaps Mrs. Brown will let you be the one
+to 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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, miss,&rdquo; said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>And, somehow, Sara felt as if she understood her,
+though she said so little, and only stood still and looked
+and looked after her as she went out of the shop with the
+Indian gentleman, and they got into the carriage and drove
+away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<hr class="l1"/>
+
+<p class="center f16"><b>Scribner Illustrated Classics<br />
+for Younger Readers</b></p>
+
+
+<p class="cap2"><span class="upper">Stories</span> which have been loved by young readers for several
+generations are included in the Scribner Illustrated
+Classics. They are all books of rare beauty and tested literary
+quality, presented in handsome format and strikingly illustrated
+in color by such famous artists as N.&nbsp;C. Wyeth, Maxfield
+Parrish, Jessie Willcox Smith, and others. No other series
+of books for youthful readers can compare with them; they
+make gifts of lasting value which will be cherished into adult
+years. They are to be found in one of two groups&mdash;the popular
+group, issued at a remarkably low price, and the Quality
+Group, published at a higher but still very reasonable price.
+Check over the following complete list. The volume you want
+will be available in one of the two groups.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Scribner Illustrated Classics for Younger Readers">
+<tr>
+<td class="col6">By Robert Louis Stevenson</td>
+<td class="col8">DRUMS</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">DAVID BALFOUR</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">James Boyd</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">THE BLACK ARROW</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">KIDNAPPED</td>
+<td class="col8">THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">TREASURE ISLAND</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">James Baldwin</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">A CHILD&rsquo;S GARDEN OF VERSES</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col8">THE CHILDREN&rsquo;S BIBLE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Henry A. Sherman</span> <i>and</i></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col6">By Eugene Field</td>
+<td class="col9"><span class="smcap">Charles Foster Kent</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">POEMS OF CHILDHOOD</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col8">JINGLEBOB</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Philip Ashton Rollins</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col6">By Jules Verne</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">MICHAEL STROGOFF</td>
+<td class="col8">THE STORY OF ROLAND</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">James Baldwin</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col9">UNDER THE SEA</td>
+<td class="col8">THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col9">KINGDOM COME</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">John Fox, Jr.</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col6"><i>By Frances Hodgson Burnett</i></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td class="col7">LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY</td>
+<td class="col8">THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td class="col7">A LITTLE PRINCESS</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Jane Porter</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col8">WESTWARD HO!</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col6"><i>By J. M. Barrie</i></td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Charles Kingsley</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col7">PETER PAN AND WENDY</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col8">GRIMM&rsquo;S FAIRY TALES</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&amp;</td>
+<td class="col8">THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">J. Fenimore Cooper</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col8">HANS BRINKER</td>
+<td class="col8">THE BOY&rsquo;S KING ARTHUR</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Mary Mapes Dodge</span></td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Sidney Lanier</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col8">THE DEERSLAYER</td>
+<td class="col8">THE ARABIAN NIGHTS</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">J. Fenimore Cooper</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col8">THE CHILDREN OF DICKENS</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col8">QUENTIN DURWARD</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Samuel McChord Crothers</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Walter Scott, Bart.</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col8">THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col8">SMOKY</td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Kenneth Grahame</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Will James</span></td>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td class="col8">THE QUEEN&rsquo;S MUSEUM AND</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col8">LONE COWBOY</td>
+<td class="col9">OTHER FANCIFUL TALES</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Will James</span></td>
+<td class="col9"><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Frank R. Stockton</span></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="tnote">
+<p><b>Transcriber&rsquo;s notes</b>: Spaces have been removed from contractions like
+&ldquo;she &rsquo;s&rdquo; and &ldquo;you &rsquo;d&rdquo;. Original spelling and hyphenation have been
+preserved. The illustrations have been moved slightly for reader
+convenience.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
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+</body>
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+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  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: A Little Princess
+       Being the whole story of Sara Crewe now told for the first time
+
+Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
+Illustrator: Ethel Franklin Betts
+
+Release Date: September 7, 2011 [EBook #37332]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE PRINCESS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, eagkw and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "I am _not_--I am _not_ dreaming!"]
+
+
+
+
+  A
+  LITTLE PRINCESS
+
+  BEING THE WHOLE STORY OF SARA CREWE
+  NOW TOLD FOR THE FIRST TIME
+
+  BY
+  FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
+
+  WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLORS BY
+  ETHEL FRANKLIN BETTS
+
+  CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+  NEW YORK . . . . . 1937
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1888 AND 1905, BY
+  CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
+  FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
+
+  Printed in the United States of America
+
+  _All rights reserved. No part of this book
+  may be reproduced in any form without
+  the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons_
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_THE WHOLE OF THE STORY_
+
+
+_I do not know whether many people realize how much more than is ever
+written there really is in a story--how many parts of it are never
+told--how much more really happened than there is in the book one holds
+in one's hand and pores over. Stories are something like letters. When a
+letter is written, how often one remembers things omitted and says, "Ah,
+why did I not tell them that?" In writing a book one relates all that
+one remembers at the time, and if one told all that really happened
+perhaps the book would never end. Between the lines of every story there
+is another story, and that is one that is never heard and can only be
+guessed at by the people who are good at guessing. The person who writes
+the story may never know all of it, but sometimes he does and wishes he
+had the chance to begin again._
+
+_When I wrote the story of "Sara Crewe" I guessed that a great deal
+more had happened at Miss Minchin's than I had had time to find out
+just then. I knew, of course, that there must have been chapters full
+of things going on all the time; and when I began to make a play out
+of the book and called it "A Little Princess," I discovered three acts
+full of things. What interested me most was that I found that there
+had been girls at the school whose names I had not even known before.
+There was a little girl whose name was Lottie, who was an amusing
+little person; there was a hungry scullery-maid who was Sara's adoring
+friend; Ermengarde was much more entertaining than she had seemed at
+first; things happened in the garret which had never been hinted at in
+the book; and a certain gentleman whose name was Melchisedec was an
+intimate friend of Sara's who should never have been left out of the
+story if he had only walked into it in time. He and Becky and Lottie
+lived at Miss Minchin's, and I cannot understand why they did not
+mention themselves to me at first. They were as real as Sara, and it
+was careless of them not to come out of the story shadowland and say,
+"Here I am--tell about me." But they did not--which was their fault
+and not mine. People who live in the story one is writing ought to
+come forward at the beginning and tap the writing person on the
+shoulder and say, "Hallo, what about me?" If they don't, no one can
+be blamed but themselves and their slouching, idle ways._
+
+_After the play of "A Little Princess" was produced in New York, and so
+many children went to see it and liked Becky and Lottie and Melchisedec,
+my publishers asked me if I could not write Sara's story over again and
+put into it all the things and people who had been left out before, and
+so I have done it; and when I began I found there were actually pages
+and pages of things which had happened that had never been put even into
+the play, so in this new "Little Princess" I have put all I have been
+able to discover._
+
+                                      _FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                               PAGE
+
+      I  SARA                              3
+
+     II  A FRENCH LESSON                  16
+
+    III  ERMENGARDE                       24
+
+     IV  LOTTIE                           34
+
+      V  BECKY                            45
+
+     VI  THE DIAMOND-MINES                58
+
+    VII  THE DIAMOND-MINES AGAIN          72
+
+   VIII  IN THE ATTIC                     97
+
+     IX  MELCHISEDEC                     110
+
+      X  THE INDIAN GENTLEMAN            124
+
+     XI  RAM DASS                        139
+
+    XII  THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL      151
+
+   XIII  ONE OF THE POPULACE             162
+
+    XIV  WHAT MELCHISEDEC HEARD AND SAW  175
+
+     XV  THE MAGIC                       182
+
+    XVI  THE VISITOR                     213
+
+   XVII  "IT IS THE CHILD!"              233
+
+  XVIII  "I TRIED NOT TO BE"             243
+
+    XIX  "ANNE"                          258
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+  "I am _not_--I am _not_ dreaming!"                     _Frontispiece_
+
+  She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of eyes watching her  16
+
+  More than once she had been known to have a tea-party              38
+
+  The children crowded clamoring around her                          76
+
+  She seldom cried. She did not cry now                              94
+
+  The sparrows twittered and hopped about quite without fear        112
+
+  The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner                168
+
+  She sat down and held him on her knee                             230
+
+  Noticed that his companion ... sat gazing into the fire           260
+
+
+
+
+A LITTLE PRINCESS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+SARA
+
+
+Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and
+heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop
+windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl
+sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the
+big thoroughfares.
+
+She sat with her feet tucked under her, and leaned against her father,
+who held her in his arm, as she stared out of the window at the passing
+people with a queer old-fashioned thoughtfulness in her big eyes.
+
+She was such a little girl that one did not expect to see such a look on
+her small face. It would have been an old look for a child of twelve,
+and Sara Crewe was only seven. The fact was, however, that she was
+always dreaming and thinking odd things and could not herself remember
+any time when she had not been thinking things about grown-up people and
+the world they belonged to. She felt as if she had lived a long, long
+time.
+
+At this moment she was remembering the voyage she had just made from
+Bombay with her father, Captain Crewe. She was thinking of the big
+ship, of the Lascars passing silently to and fro on it, of the children
+playing about on the hot deck, and of some young officers' wives who
+used to try to make her talk to them and laugh at the things she said.
+
+Principally, she was thinking of what a queer thing it was that at one
+time one was in India in the blazing sun, and then in the middle of the
+ocean, and then driving in a strange vehicle through strange streets
+where the day was as dark as the night. She found this so puzzling that
+she moved closer to her father.
+
+"Papa," she said in a low, mysterious little voice which was almost a
+whisper, "papa."
+
+"What is it, darling?" Captain Crewe answered, holding her closer and
+looking down into her face. "What is Sara thinking of?"
+
+"Is this the place?" Sara whispered, cuddling still closer to him. "Is
+it, papa?"
+
+"Yes, little Sara, it is. We have reached it at last." And though she
+was only seven years old, she knew that he felt sad when he said it.
+
+It seemed to her many years since he had begun to prepare her mind for
+"the place," as she always called it. Her mother had died when she was
+born, so she had never known or missed her. Her young, handsome, rich,
+petting father seemed to be the only relation she had in the world. They
+had always played together and been fond of each other. She only knew he
+was rich because she had heard people say so when they thought she was
+not listening, and she had also heard them say that when she grew up she
+would be rich, too. She did not know all that being rich meant. She had
+always lived in a beautiful bungalow, and had been used to seeing many
+servants who made salaams to her and called her "Missee Sahib," and gave
+her her own way in everything. She had had toys and pets and an ayah who
+worshipped her, and she had gradually learned that people who were rich
+had these things. That, however, was all she knew about it.
+
+During her short life only one thing had troubled her, and that thing
+was "the place" she was to be taken to some day. The climate of India
+was very bad for children, and as soon as possible they were sent away
+from it--generally to England and to school. She had seen other children
+go away, and had heard their fathers and mothers talk about the letters
+they received from them. She had known that she would be obliged to go
+also, and though sometimes her father's stories of the voyage and the
+new country had attracted her, she had been troubled by the thought that
+he could not stay with her.
+
+"Couldn't you go to that place with me, papa?" she had asked when she
+was five years old. "Couldn't you go to school, too? I would help you
+with your lessons."
+
+"But you will not have to stay for a very long time, little Sara," he
+had always said. "You will go to a nice house where there will be a lot
+of little girls, and you will play together, and I will send you plenty
+of books, and you will grow so fast that it will seem scarcely a year
+before you are big enough and clever enough to come back and take care
+of papa."
+
+She had liked to think of that. To keep the house for her father;
+to ride with him, and sit at the head of his table when he had
+dinner-parties; to talk to him and read his books--that would be what
+she would like most in the world, and if one must go away to "the place"
+in England to attain it, she must make up her mind to go. She did not
+care very much for other little girls, but if she had plenty of books
+she could console herself. She liked books more than anything else, and
+was, in fact, always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling
+them to herself. Sometimes she had told them to her father, and he had
+liked them as much as she did.
+
+"Well, papa," she said softly, "if we are here I suppose we must be
+resigned."
+
+He laughed at her old-fashioned speech and kissed her. He was really not
+at all resigned himself, though he knew he must keep that a secret. His
+quaint little Sara had been a great companion to him, and he felt he
+should be a lonely fellow when, on his return to India, he went into his
+bungalow knowing he need not expect to see the small figure in its white
+frock come forward to meet him. So he held her very closely in his arm
+as the cab rolled into the big, dull square in which stood the house
+which was their destination.
+
+It was a big, dull, brick house, exactly like all the others in its row,
+but that on the front door there shone a brass plate on which was
+engraved in black letters:
+
+                           MISS MINCHIN,
+                  Select Seminary for Young Ladies.
+
+"Here we are, Sara," said Captain Crewe, making his voice sound as
+cheerful as possible. Then he lifted her out of the cab and they mounted
+the steps and rang the bell. Sara often thought afterward that the house
+was somehow exactly like Miss Minchin. It was respectable and well
+furnished, but everything in it was ugly; and the very arm-chairs
+seemed to have hard bones in them. In the hall everything was hard and
+polished--even the red cheeks of the moon face on the tall clock in the
+corner had a severe varnished look. The drawing-room into which they
+were ushered was covered by a carpet with a square pattern upon it, the
+chairs were square, and a heavy marble timepiece stood upon the heavy
+marble mantel.
+
+As she sat down in one of the stiff mahogany chairs, Sara cast one of
+her quick looks about her.
+
+"I don't like it, papa," she said. "But then I dare say soldiers--even
+brave ones--don't really _like_ going into battle."
+
+Captain Crewe laughed outright at this. He was young and full of fun,
+and he never tired of hearing Sara's queer speeches.
+
+"Oh, little Sara," he said. "What shall I do when I have no one to say
+solemn things to me? No one else is quite as solemn as you are."
+
+"But why do solemn things make you laugh so?" inquired Sara.
+
+"Because you are such fun when you say them," he answered, laughing
+still more. And then suddenly he swept her into his arms and kissed her
+very hard, stopping laughing all at once and looking almost as if tears
+had come into his eyes.
+
+It was just then that Miss Minchin entered the room. She was very like
+her house, Sara felt: tall and dull, and respectable and ugly. She had
+large, cold, fishy eyes, and a large, cold, fishy smile. It spread
+itself into a very large smile when she saw Sara and Captain Crewe. She
+had heard a great many desirable things of the young soldier from the
+lady who had recommended her school to him. Among other things, she had
+heard that he was a rich father who was willing to spend a great deal of
+money on his little daughter.
+
+"It will be a great privilege to have charge of such a beautiful and
+promising child, Captain Crewe," she said, taking Sara's hand and
+stroking it. "Lady Meredith has told me of her unusual cleverness. A
+clever child is a great treasure in an establishment like mine."
+
+Sara stood quietly, with her eyes fixed upon Miss Minchin's face. She
+was thinking something odd, as usual.
+
+"Why does she say I am a beautiful child," she was thinking. "I am not
+beautiful at all. Colonel Grange's little girl, Isobel, is beautiful.
+She has dimples and rose-colored cheeks, and long hair the color of
+gold. I have short black hair and green eyes; besides which, I am a thin
+child and not fair in the least. I am one of the ugliest children I ever
+saw. She is beginning by telling a story."
+
+She was mistaken, however, in thinking she was an ugly child. She was
+not in the least like Isobel Grange, who had been the beauty of the
+regiment, but she had an odd charm of her own. She was a slim, supple
+creature, rather tall for her age, and had an intense, attractive little
+face. Her hair was heavy and quite black and only curled at the tips;
+her eyes were greenish gray, it is true, but they were big, wonderful
+eyes with long, black lashes, and though she herself did not like the
+color of them, many other people did. Still she was very firm in her
+belief that she was an ugly little girl, and she was not at all elated
+by Miss Minchin's flattery.
+
+"I should be telling a story if I said she was beautiful," she thought;
+"and I should know I was telling a story. I believe I am as ugly as she
+is--in my way. What did she say that for?"
+
+After she had known Miss Minchin longer she learned why she had said it.
+She discovered that she said the same thing to each papa and mamma who
+brought a child to her school.
+
+Sara stood near her father and listened while he and Miss Minchin
+talked. She had been brought to the seminary because Lady Meredith's two
+little girls had been educated there, and Captain Crewe had a great
+respect for Lady Meredith's experience. Sara was to be what was known as
+"a parlor-boarder," and she was to enjoy even greater privileges than
+parlor-boarders usually did. She was to have a pretty bedroom and
+sitting-room of her own; she was to have a pony and a carriage, and a
+maid to take the place of the ayah who had been her nurse in India.
+
+"I am not in the least anxious about her education," Captain Crewe
+said, with his gay laugh, as he held Sara's hand and patted it. "The
+difficulty will be to keep her from learning too fast and too much. She
+is always sitting with her little nose burrowing into books. She doesn't
+read them, Miss Minchin; she gobbles them up as if she were a little
+wolf instead of a little girl. She is always starving for new books to
+gobble, and she wants grown-up books--great, big, fat ones--French and
+German as well as English--history and biography and poets, and all
+sorts of things. Drag her away from her books when she reads too much.
+Make her ride her pony in the Row or go out and buy a new doll. She
+ought to play more with dolls."
+
+"Papa," said Sara. "You see, if I went out and bought a new doll every
+few days I should have more than I could be fond of. Dolls ought to be
+intimate friends. Emily is going to be my intimate friend."
+
+Captain Crewe looked at Miss Minchin and Miss Minchin looked at Captain
+Crewe.
+
+"Who is Emily?" she inquired.
+
+"Tell her, Sara," Captain Crewe said, smiling.
+
+Sara's green-gray eyes looked very solemn and quite soft as she
+answered.
+
+"She is a doll I haven't got yet," she said. "She is a doll papa is
+going to buy for me. We are going out together to find her. I have
+called her Emily. She is going to be my friend when papa is gone. I want
+her to talk to about him."
+
+Miss Minchin's large, fishy smile became very flattering indeed.
+
+"What an original child!" she said. "What a darling little creature!"
+
+"Yes," said Captain Crewe, drawing Sara close. "She is a darling little
+creature. Take great care of her for me, Miss Minchin."
+
+Sara stayed with her father at his hotel for several days; in fact, she
+remained with him until he sailed away again to India. They went out and
+visited many big shops together, and bought a great many things. They
+bought, indeed, a great many more things than Sara needed; but Captain
+Crewe was a rash, innocent young man and wanted his little girl to have
+everything she admired and everything he admired himself, so between
+them they collected a wardrobe much too grand for a child of seven.
+There were velvet dresses trimmed with costly furs, and lace dresses,
+and embroidered ones, and hats with great, soft ostrich feathers, and
+ermine coats and muffs, and boxes of tiny gloves and handkerchiefs and
+silk stockings in such abundant supplies that the polite young women
+behind the counters whispered to each other that the odd little girl
+with the big, solemn eyes must be at least some foreign
+princess--perhaps the little daughter of an Indian rajah.
+
+And at last they found Emily, but they went to a number of toy-shops and
+looked at a great many dolls before they finally discovered her.
+
+"I want her to look as if she wasn't a doll really," Sara said. "I want
+her to look as if she _listens_ when I talk to her. The trouble with
+dolls, papa"--and she put her head on one side and reflected as she
+said it--"the trouble with dolls is that they never seem to _hear_." So
+they looked at big ones and little ones--at dolls with black eyes and
+dolls with blue--at dolls with brown curls and dolls with golden braids,
+dolls dressed and dolls undressed.
+
+"You see," Sara said when they were examining one who had no clothes.
+"If, when I find her, she has no frocks, we can take her to a dressmaker
+and have her things made to fit. They will fit better if they are tried
+on."
+
+After a number of disappointments they decided to walk and look in at
+the shop windows and let the cab follow them. They had passed two or
+three places without even going in, when, as they were approaching a
+shop which was really not a very large one, Sara suddenly started and
+clutched her father's arm.
+
+"Oh, papa!" she cried. "There is Emily!"
+
+A flush had risen to her face and there was an expression in her
+green-gray eyes as if she had just recognized some one she was intimate
+with and fond of.
+
+"She is actually waiting for us!" she said. "Let us go in to her."
+
+"Dear me!" said Captain Crewe; "I feel as if we ought to have some one
+to introduce us."
+
+"You must introduce me and I will introduce you," said Sara. "But I knew
+her the minute I saw her--so perhaps she knew me, too."
+
+Perhaps she had known her. She had certainly a very intelligent
+expression in her eyes when Sara took her in her arms. She was a large
+doll, but not too large to carry about easily; she had naturally
+curling golden-brown hair, which hung like a mantle about her, and her
+eyes were a deep, clear, gray blue, with soft, thick eyelashes which
+were real eyelashes and not mere painted lines.
+
+"Of course," said Sara, looking into her face as she held her on her
+knee--"of course, papa, this is Emily."
+
+So Emily was bought and actually taken to a children's outfitter's shop,
+and measured for a wardrobe as grand as Sara's own. She had lace frocks,
+too, and velvet and muslin ones, and hats and coats and beautiful
+lace-trimmed underclothes, and gloves and handkerchiefs and furs.
+
+"I should like her always to look as if she was a child with a good
+mother," said Sara. "I'm her mother, though I am going to make a
+companion of her."
+
+Captain Crewe would really have enjoyed the shopping tremendously, but
+that a sad thought kept tugging at his heart. This all meant that he was
+going to be separated from his beloved, quaint little comrade.
+
+He got out of his bed in the middle of that night and went and stood
+looking down at Sara, who lay asleep with Emily in her arms. Her black
+hair was spread out on the pillow and Emily's golden-brown hair mingled
+with it, both of them had lace-ruffled night-gowns, and both had long
+eyelashes which lay and curled up on their cheeks. Emily looked so like
+a real child that Captain Crewe felt glad she was there. He drew a big
+sigh and pulled his mustache with a boyish expression.
+
+"Heigh-ho, little Sara!" he said to himself. "I don't believe you know
+how much your daddy will miss you."
+
+The next day he took her to Miss Minchin's and left her there. He was
+to sail away the next morning. He explained to Miss Minchin that his
+solicitors, Messrs. Barrow & Skipworth, had charge of his affairs in
+England and would give her any advice she wanted, and that they would
+pay the bills she sent in for Sara's expenses. He would write to Sara
+twice a week, and she was to be given every pleasure she asked for.
+
+"She is a sensible little thing, and she never wants anything it isn't
+safe to give her," he said.
+
+Then he went with Sara into her little sitting-room and they bade each
+other good-by. Sara sat on his knee and held the lapels of his coat in
+her small hands, and looked long and hard at his face.
+
+"Are you learning me by heart, little Sara," he said, stroking her hair.
+
+"No," she answered. "I know you by heart. You are inside my heart." And
+they put their arms round each other and kissed as if they would never
+let each other go.
+
+When the cab drove away from the door, Sara was sitting on the floor of
+her sitting-room, with her hands under her chin and her eyes following
+it until it had turned the corner of the square. Emily was sitting by
+her, and she looked after it, too. When Miss Minchin sent her sister,
+Miss Amelia, to see what the child was doing, she found she could not
+open the door.
+
+"I have locked it," said a queer, polite little voice from inside. "I
+want to be quite by myself, if you please."
+
+Miss Amelia was fat and dumpy, and stood very much in awe of her
+sister. She was really the better-natured person of the two, but she
+never disobeyed Miss Minchin. She went down-stairs again, looking almost
+alarmed.
+
+"I never saw such a funny, old-fashioned child, sister," she said. "She
+has locked herself in, and she is not making the least particle of
+noise."
+
+"It is much better than if she kicked and screamed, as some of them do,"
+Miss Minchin answered. "I expected that a child as much spoiled as she
+is would set the whole house in an uproar. If ever a child was given her
+own way in everything, she is."
+
+"I've been opening her trunks and putting her things away," said Miss
+Amelia. "I never saw anything like them--sable and ermine on her coats,
+and real Valenciennes lace on her underclothing. You have seen some of
+her clothes. What _do_ you think of them?"
+
+"I think they are perfectly ridiculous," replied Miss Minchin, sharply;
+"but they will look very well at the head of the line when we take the
+school-children to church on Sunday. She has been provided for as if she
+were a little princess."
+
+And up-stairs in the locked room Sara and Emily sat on the floor and
+stared at the corner round which the cab had disappeared, while Captain
+Crewe looked backward, waving and kissing his hand as if he could not
+bear to stop.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+A FRENCH LESSON
+
+
+When Sara entered the school-room the next morning everybody looked at
+her with wide, interested eyes. By that time every pupil--from Lavinia
+Herbert, who was nearly thirteen and felt quite grown up, to Lottie
+Legh, who was only just four and the baby of the school--had heard a
+great deal about her. They knew very certainly that she was Miss
+Minchin's show pupil and was considered a credit to the establishment.
+One or two of them had even caught a glimpse of her French maid,
+Mariette, who had arrived the evening before. Lavinia had managed to
+pass Sara's room when the door was open, and had seen Mariette opening
+a box which had arrived late from some shop.
+
+"It was full of petticoats with lace frills on them--frills and frills,"
+she whispered to her friend Jessie as she bent over her geography. "I
+saw her shaking them out. I heard Miss Minchin say to Miss Amelia that
+her clothes were so grand that they were ridiculous for a child. My
+mamma says that children should be dressed simply. She has got one of
+those petticoats on now. I saw it when she sat down."
+
+"She has silk stockings on!" whispered Jessie, bending over her
+geography also. "And what little feet! I never saw such little feet."
+
+"Oh," sniffed Lavinia, spitefully, "that is the way her slippers are
+made. My mamma says that even big feet can be made to look small if you
+have a clever shoemaker. I don't think she is pretty at all. Her eyes
+are such a queer color."
+
+"She isn't pretty as other pretty people are," said Jessie, stealing a
+glance across the room; "but she makes you want to look at her again.
+She has tremendously long eyelashes, but her eyes are almost green."
+
+[Illustration: She was not abashed at all by the many pairs of eyes
+watching her.]
+
+Sara was sitting quietly in her seat, waiting to be told what to do. She
+had been placed near Miss Minchin's desk. She was not abashed at all by
+the many pairs of eyes watching her. She was interested and looked back
+quietly at the children who looked at her. She wondered what they were
+thinking of, and if they liked Miss Minchin, and if they cared for their
+lessons, and if any of them had a papa at all like her own. She had had
+a long talk with Emily about her papa that morning.
+
+"He is on the sea now, Emily," she had said. "We must be very great
+friends to each other and tell each other things. Emily, look at me. You
+have the nicest eyes I ever saw,--but I wish you could speak."
+
+She was a child full of imaginings and whimsical thoughts, and one of
+her fancies was that there would be a great deal of comfort in even
+pretending that Emily was alive and really heard and understood. After
+Mariette had dressed her in her dark-blue school-room frock and tied
+her hair with a dark-blue ribbon, she went to Emily, who sat in a chair
+of her own, and gave her a book.
+
+"You can read that while I am down-stairs," she said; and, seeing
+Mariette looking at her curiously, she spoke to her with a serious
+little face.
+
+"What I believe about dolls," she said, "is that they can do things they
+will not let us know about. Perhaps, really, Emily can read and talk and
+walk, but she will only do it when people are out of the room. That is
+her secret. You see, if people knew that dolls could do things, they
+would make them work. So, perhaps, they have promised each other to keep
+it a secret. If you stay in the room, Emily will just sit there and
+stare; but if you go out, she will begin to read, perhaps, or go and
+look out of the window. Then if she heard either of us coming, she would
+just run back and jump into her chair and pretend she had been there all
+the time."
+
+"_Comme elle est drole!_" Mariette said to herself, and when she went
+down-stairs she told the head housemaid about it. But she had already
+begun to like this odd little girl who had such an intelligent small
+face and such perfect manners. She had taken care of children before
+who were not so polite. Sara was a very fine little person, and had a
+gentle, appreciative way of saying, "If you please, Mariette," "Thank
+you, Mariette," which was very charming. Mariette told the head
+housemaid that she thanked her as if she was thanking a lady.
+
+"_Elle a l'air d'une princesse, cette petite,_" she said. Indeed, she
+was very much pleased with her new little mistress and liked her place
+greatly.
+
+After Sara had sat in her seat in the school-room for a few minutes,
+being looked at by the pupils, Miss Minchin rapped in a dignified manner
+upon her desk.
+
+"Young ladies," she said, "I wish to introduce you to your new
+companion." All the little girls rose in their places, and Sara rose
+also. "I shall expect you all to be very agreeable to Miss Crewe; she
+has just come to us from a great distance--in fact, from India. As soon
+as lessons are over you must make each other's acquaintance."
+
+The pupils bowed ceremoniously, and Sara made a little courtesy, and
+then they sat down and looked at each other again.
+
+"Sara," said Miss Minchin in her school-room manner, "come here to me."
+
+She had taken a book from the desk and was turning over its leaves. Sara
+went to her politely.
+
+"As your papa has engaged a French maid for you," she began, "I conclude
+that he wishes you to make a special study of the French language."
+
+Sara felt a little awkward.
+
+"I think he engaged her," she said, "because he--he thought I would like
+her, Miss Minchin."
+
+"I am afraid," said Miss Minchin, with a slightly sour smile, "that you
+have been a very spoiled little girl and always imagine that things are
+done because you like them. My impression is that your papa wished you
+to learn French."
+
+If Sara had been older or less punctilious about being quite polite to
+people, she could have explained herself in a very few words. But, as
+it was, she felt a flush rising on her cheeks. Miss Minchin was a very
+severe and imposing person, and she seemed so absolutely sure that Sara
+knew nothing whatever of French that she felt as if it would be almost
+rude to correct her. The truth was that Sara could not remember the time
+when she had not seemed to know French. Her father had often spoken it
+to her when she had been a baby. Her mother had been a Frenchwoman, and
+Captain Crewe had loved her language, so it happened that Sara had
+always heard and been familiar with it.
+
+"I--I have never really learned French, but--but--" she began, trying
+shyly to make herself clear.
+
+One of Miss Minchin's chief secret annoyances was that she did not speak
+French herself, and was desirous of concealing the irritating fact. She,
+therefore, had no intention of discussing the matter and laying herself
+open to innocent questioning by a new little pupil.
+
+"That is enough," she said with polite tartness. "If you have not
+learned, you must begin at once. The French master, Monsieur Dufarge,
+will be here in a few minutes. Take this book and look at it until he
+arrives."
+
+Sara's cheeks felt warm. She went back to her seat and opened the book.
+She looked at the first page with a grave face. She knew it would be
+rude to smile, and she was very determined not to be rude. But it was
+very odd to find herself expected to study a page which told her that
+"_le pere_" meant "the father," and "_la mere_" meant "the mother."
+
+Miss Minchin glanced toward her scrutinizingly.
+
+"You look rather cross, Sara," she said. "I am sorry you do not like the
+idea of learning French."
+
+"I am very fond of it," answered Sara, thinking she would try again;
+"but--"
+
+"You must not say 'but' when you are told to do things," said Miss
+Minchin. "Look at your book again."
+
+And Sara did so, and did not smile, even when she found that "_le fils_"
+meant "the son," and "_le frere_" meant "the brother."
+
+"When Monsieur Dufarge comes," she thought, "I can make him understand."
+
+Monsieur Dufarge arrived very shortly afterward. He was a very nice,
+intelligent, middle-aged Frenchman, and he looked interested when his
+eyes fell upon Sara trying politely to seem absorbed in her little book
+of phrases.
+
+"Is this a new pupil for me, madame?" he said to Miss Minchin. "I hope
+that is my good fortune."
+
+"Her papa--Captain Crewe--is very anxious that she should begin the
+language. But I am afraid she has a childish prejudice against it. She
+does not seem to wish to learn," said Miss Minchin.
+
+"I am sorry of that, mademoiselle," he said kindly to Sara. "Perhaps,
+when we begin to study together, I may show you that it is a charming
+tongue."
+
+Little Sara rose in her seat. She was beginning to feel rather
+desperate, as if she were almost in disgrace. She looked up into
+Monsieur Dufarge's face with her big, green-gray eyes, and they were
+quite innocently appealing. She knew that he would understand as soon
+as she spoke. She began to explain quite simply in pretty and fluent
+French. Madame had not understood. She had not learned French
+exactly,--not out of books,--but her papa and other people had always
+spoken it to her, and she had read it and written it as she had read
+and written English. Her papa loved it, and she loved it because he
+did. Her dear mamma, who had died when she was born, had been French.
+She would be glad to learn anything monsieur would teach her, but what
+she had tried to explain to madame was that she already knew the words
+in this book--and she held out the little book of phrases.
+
+When she began to speak Miss Minchin started quite violently and sat
+staring at her over her eye-glasses, almost indignantly, until she had
+finished. Monsieur Dufarge began to smile, and his smile was one of
+great pleasure. To hear this pretty childish voice speaking his own
+language so simply and charmingly made him feel almost as if he were in
+his native land--which in dark, foggy days in London sometimes seemed
+worlds away. When she had finished, he took the phrase-book from her,
+with a look almost affectionate. But he spoke to Miss Minchin.
+
+"Ah, madame," he said, "there is not much I can teach her. She has not
+_learned_ French; she _is_ French. Her accent is exquisite."
+
+"You ought to have told me," exclaimed Miss Minchin, much mortified,
+turning on Sara.
+
+"I--I tried," said Sara. "I--I suppose I did not begin right."
+
+Miss Minchin knew she had tried, and that it had not been her fault that
+she was not allowed to explain. And when she saw that the pupils had
+been listening and that Lavinia and Jessie were giggling behind their
+French grammars, she felt infuriated.
+
+"Silence, young ladies!" she said severely, rapping upon the desk.
+"Silence at once!"
+
+And she began from that minute to feel rather a grudge against her show
+pupil.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+ERMENGARDE
+
+
+On that first morning, when Sara sat at Miss Minchin's side, aware that
+the whole school-room was devoting itself to observing her, she had
+noticed very soon one little girl, about her own age, who looked at her
+very hard with a pair of light, rather dull, blue eyes. She was a fat
+child who did not look as if she were in the least clever, but she had
+a good-naturedly pouting mouth. Her flaxen hair was braided in a tight
+pigtail, tied with a ribbon, and she had pulled this pigtail round her
+neck, and was biting the end of the ribbon, resting her elbows on the
+desk, as she stared wonderingly at the new pupil. When Monsieur Dufarge
+began to speak to Sara, she looked a little frightened; and when Sara
+stepped forward and, looking at him with the innocent, appealing eyes,
+answered him, without any warning, in French, the fat little girl gave
+a startled jump, and grew quite red in her awed amazement. Having wept
+hopeless tears for weeks in her efforts to remember that "_la mere_"
+meant "the mother," and "_le pere_," "the father,"--when one spoke
+sensible English,--it was almost too much for her to suddenly find
+herself listening to a child her own age who seemed not only quite
+familiar with these words, but apparently knew any number of others,
+and could mix them up with verbs as if they were mere trifles.
+
+She stared so hard and bit the ribbon on her pigtail so fast that she
+attracted the attention of Miss Minchin, who, feeling extremely cross at
+the moment, immediately pounced upon her.
+
+"Miss St. John!" she exclaimed severely. "What do you mean by such
+conduct? Remove your elbows! Take your ribbon out of your mouth! Sit up
+at once!"
+
+Upon which Miss St. John gave another jump, and when Lavinia and Jessie
+tittered she became redder than ever--so red, indeed, that she almost
+looked as if tears were coming into her poor, dull, childish eyes; and
+Sara saw her and was so sorry for her that she began to rather like her
+and want to be her friend. It was a way of hers always to want to spring
+into any fray in which some one was made uncomfortable or unhappy.
+
+"If Sara had been a boy and lived a few centuries ago," her father used
+to say, "she would have gone about the country with her sword drawn,
+rescuing and defending every one in distress. She always wants to fight
+when she sees people in trouble."
+
+So she took rather a fancy to fat, slow, little Miss St. John, and kept
+glancing toward her through the morning. She saw that lessons were no
+easy matter to her, and that there was no danger of her ever being
+spoiled by being treated as a show pupil. Her French lesson was a
+pathetic thing. Her pronunciation made even Monsieur Dufarge smile in
+spite of himself, and Lavinia and Jessie and the more fortunate girls
+either giggled or looked at her in wondering disdain. But Sara did not
+laugh. She tried to look as if she did not hear when Miss St. John
+called "_le bon pain_," "_lee bong pang_." She had a fine, hot little
+temper of her own, and it made her feel rather savage when she heard the
+titters and saw the poor, stupid, distressed child's face.
+
+"It isn't funny, really," she said between her teeth, as she bent over
+her book. "They ought not to laugh."
+
+When lessons were over and the pupils gathered together in groups to
+talk, Sara looked for Miss St. John, and finding her bundled rather
+disconsolately in a window-seat, she walked over to her and spoke. She
+only said the kind of thing little girls always say to each other by way
+of beginning an acquaintance, but there was something nice and friendly
+about Sara, and people always felt it.
+
+"What is your name?" she said.
+
+To explain Miss St. John's amazement one must recall that a new pupil
+is, for a short time, a somewhat uncertain thing; and of this new pupil
+the entire school had talked the night before until it fell asleep quite
+exhausted by excitement and contradictory stories. A new pupil with a
+carriage and a pony and a maid, and a voyage from India to discuss, was
+not an ordinary acquaintance.
+
+"My name's Ermengarde St. John," she answered.
+
+"Mine is Sara Crewe," said Sara. "Yours is very pretty. It sounds like a
+story-book."
+
+"Do you like it?" fluttered Ermengarde. "I--I like yours."
+
+Miss St. John's chief trouble in life was that she had a clever father.
+Sometimes this seemed to her a dreadful calamity. If you have a father
+who knows everything, who speaks seven or eight languages, and has
+thousands of volumes which he has apparently learned by heart, he
+frequently expects you to be familiar with the contents of your
+lesson-books at least; and it is not improbable that he will feel you
+ought to be able to remember a few incidents of history and to write a
+French exercise. Ermengarde was a severe trial to Mr. St. John. He could
+not understand how a child of his could be a notably and unmistakably
+dull creature who never shone in anything.
+
+"Good heavens!" he had said more than once, as he stared at her, "there
+are times when I think she is as stupid as her Aunt Eliza!"
+
+If her Aunt Eliza had been slow to learn and quick to forget a thing
+entirely when she had learned it, Ermengarde was strikingly like her.
+She was the monumental dunce of the school, and it could not be denied.
+
+"She must be _made_ to learn," her father said to Miss Minchin.
+
+Consequently Ermengarde spent the greater part of her life in disgrace
+or in tears. She learned things and forgot them; or, if she remembered
+them, she did not understand them. So it was natural that, having made
+Sara's acquaintance, she should sit and stare at her with profound
+admiration.
+
+"You can speak French, can't you?" she said respectfully.
+
+Sara got on to the window-seat, which was a big, deep one, and, tucking
+up her feet, sat with her hands clasped round her knees.
+
+"I can speak it because I have heard it all my life," she answered. "You
+could speak it if you had always heard it."
+
+"Oh, no, I couldn't," said Ermengarde. "I _never_ could speak it!"
+
+"Why?" inquired Sara, curiously.
+
+Ermengarde shook her head so that the pigtail wabbled.
+
+"You heard me just now," she said. "I'm always like that. I can't _say_
+the words. They're so queer."
+
+She paused a moment, and then added with a touch of awe in her voice:
+
+"You are _clever_, aren't you?"
+
+Sara looked out of the window into the dingy square, where the sparrows
+were hopping and twittering on the wet, iron railings and the sooty
+branches of the trees. She reflected a few moments. She had heard it
+said very often that she was "clever," and she wondered if she was,--and
+_if_ she was, how it had happened.
+
+"I don't know," she said. "I can't tell." Then, seeing a mournful look
+on the round, chubby face, she gave a little laugh and changed the
+subject.
+
+"Would you like to see Emily?" she inquired.
+
+"Who is Emily?" Ermengarde asked, just as Miss Minchin had done.
+
+"Come up to my room and see," said Sara, holding out her hand.
+
+They jumped down from the window-seat together, and went up-stairs.
+
+"Is it true," Ermengarde whispered, as they went through the hall--"is
+it true that you have a play-room all to yourself?"
+
+"Yes," Sara answered. "Papa asked Miss Minchin to let me have one,
+because--well, it was because when I play I make up stories and tell
+them to myself, and I don't like people to hear me. It spoils it if I
+think people listen."
+
+They had reached the passage leading to Sara's room by this time, and
+Ermengarde stopped short, staring, and quite losing her breath.
+
+"You _make up_ stories!" she gasped. "Can you do that--as well as speak
+French? _Can_ you?"
+
+Sara looked at her in simple surprise.
+
+"Why, any one can make up things," she said. "Have you never tried?"
+
+She put her hand warningly on Ermengarde's.
+
+"Let us go very quietly to the door," she whispered, "and then I will
+open it quite suddenly; perhaps we may catch her."
+
+She was half laughing, but there was a touch of mysterious hope in her
+eyes which fascinated Ermengarde, though she had not the remotest idea
+what it meant, or whom it was she wanted to "catch," or why she wanted
+to catch her. Whatsoever she meant, Ermengarde was sure it was something
+delightfully exciting. So, quite thrilled with expectation, she
+followed her on tiptoe along the passage. They made not the least noise
+until they reached the door. Then Sara suddenly turned the handle, and
+threw it wide open. Its opening revealed the room quite neat and quiet,
+a fire gently burning in the grate, and a wonderful doll sitting in a
+chair by it, apparently reading a book.
+
+"Oh, she got back to her seat before we could see her!" Sara exclaimed.
+"Of course they always do. They are as quick as lightning."
+
+Ermengarde looked from her to the doll and back again.
+
+"Can she--walk?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"Yes," answered Sara. "At least I believe she can. At least I _pretend_
+I believe she can. And that makes it seem as if it were true. Have you
+never pretended things?"
+
+"No," said Ermengarde. "Never. I--tell me about it."
+
+She was so bewitched by this odd, new companion that she actually stared
+at Sara instead of at Emily--notwithstanding that Emily was the most
+attractive doll person she had ever seen.
+
+"Let us sit down," said Sara, "and I will tell you. It's so easy that
+when you begin you can't stop. You just go on and on doing it always.
+And it's beautiful. Emily, you must listen. This is Ermengarde St. John,
+Emily. Ermengarde, this is Emily. Would you like to hold her?"
+
+"Oh, may I?" said Ermengarde. "May I, really? She _is_ beautiful!" And
+Emily was put into her arms.
+
+Never in her dull, short life had Miss St. John dreamed of such an hour
+as the one she spent with the queer new pupil before they heard the
+lunch-bell ring and were obliged to go down-stairs.
+
+Sara sat upon the hearth-rug and told her strange things. She sat rather
+huddled up, and her green eyes shone and her cheeks flushed. She told
+stories of the voyage, and stories of India; but what fascinated
+Ermengarde the most was her fancy about the dolls who walked and talked,
+and who could do anything they chose when the human beings were out of
+the room, but who must keep their powers a secret and so flew back to
+their places "like lightning" when people returned to the room.
+
+"_We_ couldn't do it," said Sara, seriously. "You see, it's a kind of
+magic."
+
+Once, when she was relating the story of the search for Emily,
+Ermengarde saw her face suddenly change. A cloud seemed to pass over
+it and put out the light in her shining eyes. She drew her breath in
+so sharply that it made a funny, sad little sound, and then she shut
+her lips and held them tightly closed, as if she was determined either
+to do or _not_ to do something. Ermengarde had an idea that if she had
+been like any other little girl, she might have suddenly burst out
+sobbing and crying. But she did not.
+
+"Have you a--a pain?" Ermengarde ventured.
+
+"Yes," Sara answered, after a moment's silence. "But it is not in my
+body." Then she added something in a low voice which she tried to keep
+quite steady, and it was this: "Do you love your father more than
+anything else in all the whole world?"
+
+Ermengarde's mouth fell open a little. She knew that it would be far
+from behaving like a respectable child at a select seminary to say that
+it had never occurred to you that you _could_ love your father, that you
+would do anything desperate to avoid being left alone in his society for
+ten minutes. She was, indeed, greatly embarrassed.
+
+"I--I scarcely ever see him," she stammered. "He is always in the
+library--reading things."
+
+"I love mine more than all the world ten times over," Sara said. "That
+is what my pain is. He has gone away."
+
+She put her head quietly down on her little, huddled-up knees, and sat
+very still for a few minutes.
+
+"She's going to cry out loud," thought Ermengarde, fearfully.
+
+But she did not. Her short, black locks tumbled about her ears, and she
+sat still. Then she spoke without lifting her head.
+
+"I promised him I would bear it," she said. "And I will. You have to
+bear things. Think what soldiers bear! Papa is a soldier. If there was
+a war he would have to bear marching and thirstiness and, perhaps,
+deep wounds. And he would never say a word--not one word."
+
+Ermengarde could only gaze at her, but she felt that she was beginning
+to adore her. She was so wonderful and different from any one else.
+
+Presently, she lifted her face and shook back her black locks, with a
+queer little smile.
+
+"If I go on talking and talking," she said, "and telling you things
+about pretending, I shall bear it better. You don't forget, but you bear
+it better."
+
+Ermengarde did not know why a lump came into her throat and her eyes
+felt as if tears were in them.
+
+"Lavinia and Jessie are 'best friends,'" she said rather huskily. "I
+wish we could be 'best friends.' Would you have me for yours? You're
+clever, and I'm the stupidest child in the school, but I--oh, I do so
+like you!"
+
+"I'm glad of that," said Sara. "It makes you thankful when you are
+liked. Yes. We will be friends. And I'll tell you what"--a sudden gleam
+lighting her face--"I can help you with your French lessons."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+LOTTIE
+
+
+If Sara had been a different kind of child, the life she led at Miss
+Minchin's Select Seminary for the next ten years would not have been at
+all good for her. She was treated more as if she were a distinguished
+guest at the establishment than as if she were a mere little girl. If
+she had been a self-opinionated, domineering child, she might have
+become disagreeable enough to be unbearable through being so much
+indulged and flattered. If she had been an indolent child, she would
+have learned nothing. Privately Miss Minchin disliked her, but she was
+far too worldly a woman to do or say anything which might make such a
+desirable pupil wish to leave her school. She knew quite well that if
+Sara wrote to her papa to tell him she was uncomfortable or unhappy,
+Captain Crewe would remove her at once. Miss Minchin's opinion was that
+if a child were continually praised and never forbidden to do what she
+liked, she would be sure to be fond of the place where she was so
+treated. Accordingly, Sara was praised for her quickness at her lessons,
+for her good manners, for her amiability to her fellow-pupils, for her
+generosity if she gave sixpence to a beggar out of her full little
+purse; the simplest thing she did was treated as if it were a virtue,
+and if she had not had a disposition and a clever little brain, she
+might have been a very self-satisfied young person. But the clever
+little brain told her a great many sensible and true things about
+herself and her circumstances, and now and then she talked these things
+over to Ermengarde as time went on.
+
+"Things happen to people by accident," she used to say. "A lot of nice
+accidents have happened to me. It just _happened_ that I always liked
+lessons and books, and could remember things when I learned them. It
+just happened that I was born with a father who was beautiful and nice
+and clever, and could give me everything I liked. Perhaps I have not
+really a good temper at all, but if you have everything you want and
+every one is kind to you, how can you help but be good-tempered? I don't
+know"--looking quite serious--"how I shall ever find out whether I am
+really a nice child or a horrid one. Perhaps I'm a _hideous_ child, and
+no one will ever know, just because I never have any trials."
+
+"Lavinia has no trials," said Ermengarde, stolidly, "and she is horrid
+enough."
+
+Sara rubbed the end of her little nose reflectively, as she thought the
+matter over.
+
+"Well," she said at last, "perhaps--perhaps that is because Lavinia is
+_growing_."
+
+This was the result of a charitable recollection of having heard Miss
+Amelia say that Lavinia was growing so fast that she believed it
+affected her health and temper.
+
+Lavinia, in fact, was spiteful. She was inordinately jealous of Sara.
+Until the new pupil's arrival, she had felt herself the leader in the
+school. She had led because she was capable of making herself extremely
+disagreeable if the others did not follow her. She domineered over the
+little children, and assumed grand airs with those big enough to be her
+companions. She was rather pretty, and had been the best-dressed pupil
+in the procession when the Select Seminary walked out two by two, until
+Sara's velvet coats and sable muffs appeared, combined with drooping
+ostrich feathers, and were led by Miss Minchin at the head of the line.
+This, at the beginning, had been bitter enough; but as time went on it
+became apparent that Sara was a leader, too, and not because she could
+make herself disagreeable, but because she never did.
+
+"There's one thing about Sara Crewe," Jessie had enraged her "best
+friend" by saying honestly,--"she's never 'grand' about herself the
+least bit, and you know she might be, Lavvie. I believe I couldn't help
+being--just a little--if I had so many fine things and was made such a
+fuss over. It's disgusting, the way Miss Minchin shows her off when
+parents come."
+
+"'Dear Sara must come into the drawing-room and talk to Mrs. Musgrave
+about India,'" mimicked Lavinia, in her most highly flavored imitation
+of Miss Minchin. "'Dear Sara must speak French to Lady Pitkin. Her
+accent is so perfect.' She didn't learn her French at the Seminary, at
+any rate. And there's nothing so clever in her knowing it. She says
+herself she didn't learn it at all. She just picked it up, because she
+always heard her papa speak it. And, as to her papa, there is nothing so
+grand in being an Indian officer."
+
+"Well," said Jessie, slowly, "he's killed tigers. He killed the one in
+the skin Sara has in her room. That's why she likes it so. She lies on
+it and strokes its head, and talks to it as if it was a cat."
+
+"She's always doing something silly," snapped Lavinia. "My mamma says
+that way of hers of pretending things is silly. She says she will grow
+up eccentric."
+
+It was quite true that Sara was never "grand." She was a friendly little
+soul, and shared her privileges and belongings with a free hand. The
+little ones, who were accustomed to being disdained and ordered out of
+the way by mature ladies aged ten and twelve, were never made to cry by
+this most envied of them all. She was a motherly young person, and when
+people fell down and scraped their knees, she ran and helped them up and
+patted them, or found in her pocket a bonbon or some other article of a
+soothing nature. She never pushed them out of her way or alluded to
+their years as a humiliation and a blot upon their small characters.
+
+"If you are four you are four," she said severely to Lavinia on an
+occasion of her having--it must be confessed--slapped Lottie and called
+her "a brat"; "but you will be five next year, and six the year after
+that. And," opening large, convicting eyes, "it only takes sixteen years
+to make you twenty."
+
+"Dear me!" said Lavinia; "how we can calculate!" In fact, it was not to
+be denied that sixteen and four made twenty,--and twenty was an age the
+most daring were scarcely bold enough to dream of.
+
+[Illustration: More than once she had been known to have a
+tea-party....]
+
+So the younger children adored Sara. More than once she had been known
+to have a tea-party, made up of these despised ones, in her own room.
+And Emily had been played with, and Emily's own tea-service used--the
+one with cups which held quite a lot of much-sweetened weak tea and had
+blue flowers on them. No one had seen such a very real doll's tea-set
+before. From that afternoon Sara was regarded as a goddess and a queen
+by the entire alphabet class.
+
+Lottie Legh worshipped her to such an extent that if Sara had not been a
+motherly person, she would have found her tiresome. Lottie had been sent
+to school by a rather flighty young papa who could not imagine what else
+to do with her. Her young mother had died, and as the child had been
+treated like a favorite doll or a very spoiled pet monkey or lap-dog
+ever since the first hour of her life, she was a very appalling little
+creature. When she wanted anything or did not want anything she wept and
+howled; and, as she always wanted the things she could not have, and did
+not want the things that were best for her, her shrill little voice was
+usually to be heard uplifted in wails in one part of the house or
+another.
+
+Her strongest weapon was that in some mysterious way she had found out
+that a very small girl who had lost her mother was a person who ought to
+be pitied and made much of. She had probably heard some grown-up
+people talking her over in the early days, after her mother's death.
+So it became her habit to make great use of this knowledge.
+
+The first time Sara took her in charge was one morning when, on passing
+a sitting-room, she heard both Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia trying to
+suppress the angry wails of some child who, evidently, refused to be
+silenced. She refused so strenuously indeed that Miss Minchin was
+obliged to almost shout--in a stately and severe manner--to make herself
+heard.
+
+"What _is_ she crying for?" she almost yelled.
+
+"Oh--oh--oh!" Sara heard; "I haven't got any mam--ma-a!"
+
+"Oh, Lottie!" screamed Miss Amelia. "Do stop, darling! Don't cry! Please
+don't!"
+
+"Oh! oh! oh!" Lottie howled tempestuously. "Haven't--got--any--mam--ma-a!"
+
+"She ought to be whipped," Miss Minchin proclaimed. "You _shall_ be
+whipped, you naughty child!"
+
+Lottie wailed more loudly than ever. Miss Amelia began to cry. Miss
+Minchin's voice rose until it almost thundered, then suddenly she sprang
+up from her chair in impotent indignation and flounced out of the room,
+leaving Miss Amelia to arrange the matter.
+
+Sara had paused in the hall, wondering if she ought to go into the room,
+because she had recently begun a friendly acquaintance with Lottie and
+might be able to quiet her. When Miss Minchin came out and saw her,
+she looked rather annoyed. She realized that her voice, as heard from
+inside the room, could not have sounded either dignified or amiable.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she exclaimed, endeavoring to produce a suitable smile.
+
+"I stopped," explained Sara, "because I knew it was Lottie,--and I
+thought, perhaps--just perhaps, I could make her be quiet. May I try,
+Miss Minchin?"
+
+"If you can. You are a clever child," answered Miss Minchin, drawing in
+her mouth sharply. Then, seeing that Sara looked slightly chilled by her
+asperity, she changed her manner. "But you are clever in everything,"
+she said in her approving way. "I dare say you can manage her. Go in."
+And she left her.
+
+When Sara entered the room, Lottie was lying upon the floor, screaming
+and kicking her small fat legs violently, and Miss Amelia was bending
+over her in consternation and despair, looking quite red and damp with
+heat. Lottie had always found, when in her own nursery at home, that
+kicking and screaming would always be quieted by any means she insisted
+on. Poor plump Miss Amelia was trying first one method, and then
+another.
+
+"Poor darling!" she said one moment; "I know you haven't any mamma,
+poor--" Then in quite another tone: "If you don't stop, Lottie, I will
+shake you. Poor little angel! There--there! You wicked, bad, detestable
+child, I will smack you! I will!"
+
+Sara went to them quietly. She did not know at all what she was going to
+do, but she had a vague inward conviction that it would be better not to
+say such different kinds of things quite so helplessly and excitedly.
+
+"Miss Amelia," she said in a low voice, "Miss Minchin says I may try to
+make her stop--may I?"
+
+Miss Amelia turned and looked at her hopelessly. "Oh, _do_ you think you
+can?" she gasped.
+
+"I don't know whether I _can_," answered Sara, still in her
+half-whisper; "but I will try."
+
+Miss Amelia stumbled up from her knees with a heavy sigh, and Lottie's
+fat little legs kicked as hard as ever.
+
+"If you will steal out of the room," said Sara, "I will stay with her."
+
+"Oh, Sara!" almost whimpered Miss Amelia. "We never had such a dreadful
+child before. I don't believe we _can_ keep her."
+
+But she crept out of the room, and was very much relieved to find an
+excuse for doing it.
+
+Sara stood by the howling, furious child for a few moments, and looked
+down at her without saying anything. Then she sat down flat on the floor
+beside her and waited. Except for Lottie's angry screams, the room was
+quite quiet. This was a new state of affairs for little Miss Legh, who
+was accustomed, when she screamed, to hear other people protest and
+implore and command and coax by turns. To lie and kick and shriek,
+and find the only person near you not seeming to mind in the least,
+attracted her attention. She opened her tight-shut streaming eyes to see
+who this person was. And it was only another little girl. But it was the
+one who owned Emily and all the nice things. And she was looking at her
+steadily and as if she was merely thinking. Having paused for a few
+seconds to find this out, Lottie thought she must begin again, but the
+quiet of the room and of Sara's odd, interested face made her first
+howl rather half-hearted.
+
+"I--haven't--any--ma--ma--ma-a!" she announced; but her voice was not so
+strong.
+
+Sara looked at her still more steadily, but with a sort of understanding
+in her eyes.
+
+"Neither have I," she said.
+
+This was so unexpected that it was astounding. Lottie actually dropped
+her legs, gave a wriggle, and lay and stared. A new idea will stop a
+crying child when nothing else will. Also it was true that while Lottie
+disliked Miss Minchin, who was cross, and Miss Amelia, who was foolishly
+indulgent, she rather liked Sara, little as she knew her. She did not
+want to give up her grievance, but her thoughts were distracted from it,
+so she wriggled again, and, after a sulky sob, said:
+
+"Where is she?"
+
+Sara paused a moment. Because she had been told that her mamma was in
+heaven, she had thought a great deal about the matter, and her thoughts
+had not been quite like those of other people.
+
+"She went to heaven," she said. "But I am sure she comes out sometimes
+to see me--though I don't see her. So does yours. Perhaps they can both
+see us now. Perhaps they are both in this room."
+
+Lottie sat bolt upright, and looked about her. She was a pretty, little,
+curly-headed creature, and her round eyes were like wet forget-me-nots.
+If her mamma had seen her during the last half-hour, she might not have
+thought her the kind of child who ought to be related to an angel.
+
+Sara went on talking. Perhaps some people might think that what she
+said was rather like a fairy story, but it was all so real to her own
+imagination that Lottie began to listen in spite of herself. She had
+been told that her mamma had wings and a crown, and she had been shown
+pictures of ladies in beautiful white night-gowns, who were said to
+be angels. But Sara seemed to be telling a real story about a lovely
+country where real people were.
+
+"There are fields and fields of flowers," she said, forgetting herself,
+as usual, when she began, and talking rather as if she were in a
+dream--"fields and fields of lilies--and when the soft wind blows over
+them it wafts the scent of them into the air--and everybody always
+breathes it, because the soft wind is always blowing. And little
+children run about in the lily-fields and gather armsful of them, and
+laugh and make little wreaths. And the streets are shining. And no one
+is ever tired, however far they walk. They can float anywhere they like.
+And there are walls made of pearl and gold all round the city, but they
+are low enough for the people to go and lean on them, and look down on
+to the earth and smile, and send beautiful messages."
+
+Whatsoever story she had begun to tell, Lottie would, no doubt, have
+stopped crying, and been fascinated into listening; but there was no
+denying that this story was prettier than most others. She dragged
+herself close to Sara, and drank in every word until the end came--far
+too soon. When it did come, she was so sorry that she put up her lip
+ominously.
+
+"I want to go there," she cried. "I--haven't any mamma in this school."
+
+Sara saw the danger-signal, and came out of her dream. She took hold of
+the chubby hand and pulled her close to her side with a coaxing little
+laugh.
+
+"I will be your mamma," she said. "We will play that you are my little
+girl. And Emily shall be your sister."
+
+Lottie's dimples all began to show themselves.
+
+"Shall she?" she said.
+
+"Yes," answered Sara, jumping to her feet. "Let us go and tell her. And
+then I will wash your face and brush your hair."
+
+To which Lottie agreed quite cheerfully, and trotted out of the room and
+up-stairs with her, without seeming even to remember that the whole of
+the last hour's tragedy had been caused by the fact that she had refused
+to be washed and brushed for lunch and Miss Minchin had been called in
+to use her majestic authority.
+
+And from that time Sara was an adopted mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+BECKY
+
+
+Of course the greatest power Sara possessed and the one which gained
+her even more followers than her luxuries and the fact that she was
+"the show pupil," the power that Lavinia and certain other girls were
+most envious of, and at the same time most fascinated by in spite of
+themselves, was her power of telling stories and of making everything
+she talked about seem like a story, whether it was one or not.
+
+Any one who has been at school with a teller of stories knows what the
+wonder means--how he or she is followed about and besought in a whisper
+to relate romances; how groups gather round and hang on the outskirts of
+the favored party in the hope of being allowed to join it and listen.
+Sara not only could tell stories, but she adored telling them. When she
+sat or stood in the midst of a circle and began to invent wonderful
+things, her green eyes grew big and shining, her cheeks flushed, and,
+without knowing that she was doing it, she began to act and made what
+she told lovely or alarming by the raising or dropping of her voice, the
+bend and sway of her slim body, and the dramatic movement of her hands.
+She forgot that she was talking to listening children; she saw and
+lived with the fairy folk, or the kings and queens and beautiful ladies,
+whose adventures she was narrating. Sometimes when she had finished her
+story, she was quite out of breath with excitement, and would lay her
+hand on her thin, little, quick-rising chest, and half laugh as if at
+herself.
+
+"When I am telling it," she would say, "it doesn't seem as if it was
+only made up. It seems more real than you are--more real than the
+school-room. I feel as if I were all the people in the story--one after
+the other. It _is_ queer."
+
+She had been at Miss Minchin's school about two years when, one foggy
+winter's afternoon, as she was getting out of her carriage, comfortably
+wrapped up in her warmest velvets and furs and looking very much grander
+than she knew, she caught sight, as she crossed the pavement, of a dingy
+little figure standing on the area steps, and stretching its neck
+so that its wide-open eyes might peer at her through the railings.
+Something in the eagerness and timidity of the smudgy face made her look
+at it, and when she looked she smiled because it was her way to smile at
+people.
+
+But the owner of the smudgy face and the wide-open eyes evidently was
+afraid that she ought not to have been caught looking at pupils of
+importance. She dodged out of sight like a Jack-in-the-box and scurried
+back into the kitchen, disappearing so suddenly that if she had not been
+such a poor, little forlorn thing, Sara would have laughed in spite of
+herself. That very evening, as Sara was sitting in the midst of a group
+of listeners in a corner of the school-room telling one of her stories,
+the very same figure timidly entered the room, carrying a coal-box much
+too heavy for her, and knelt down upon the hearth-rug to replenish the
+fire and sweep up the ashes.
+
+She was cleaner than she had been when she peeped through the area
+railings, but she looked just as frightened. She was evidently afraid to
+look at the children or seem to be listening. She put on pieces of coal
+cautiously with her fingers so that she might make no disturbing noise,
+and she swept about the fire-irons very softly. But Sara saw in two
+minutes that she was deeply interested in what was going on, and that
+she was doing her work slowly in the hope of catching a word here and
+there. And realizing this, she raised her voice and spoke more clearly.
+
+"The Mermaids swam softly about in the crystal-green water, and dragged
+after them a fishing-net woven of deep-sea pearls," she said. "The
+Princess sat on the white rock and watched them."
+
+It was a wonderful story about a princess who was loved by a Prince
+Merman, and went to live with him in shining caves under the sea.
+
+The small drudge before the grate swept the hearth once and then swept
+it again. Having done it twice, she did it three times; and, as she was
+doing it the third time, the sound of the story so lured her to listen
+that she fell under the spell and actually forgot that she had no right
+to listen at all, and also forgot everything else. She sat down upon her
+heels as she knelt on the hearth-rug, and the brush hung idly in her
+fingers. The voice of the story-teller went on and drew her with it into
+winding grottos under the sea, glowing with soft, clear blue light, and
+paved with pure golden sands. Strange sea flowers and grasses waved
+about her, and far away faint singing and music echoed.
+
+The hearth-brush fell from the work-roughened hand, and Lavinia Herbert
+looked round.
+
+"That girl has been listening," she said.
+
+The culprit snatched up her brush, and scrambled to her feet. She caught
+at the coal-box and simply scuttled out of the room like a frightened
+rabbit.
+
+Sara felt rather hot-tempered.
+
+"I knew she was listening," she said. "Why shouldn't she?"
+
+Lavinia tossed her head with great elegance.
+
+"Well," she remarked, "I do not know whether your mamma would like you
+to tell stories to servant girls, but I know _my_ mamma wouldn't like
+_me_ to do it."
+
+"My mamma!" said Sara, looking odd. "I don't believe she would mind in
+the least. She knows that stories belong to everybody."
+
+"I thought," retorted Lavinia, in severe recollection, "that your mamma
+was dead. How can she know things?"
+
+"Do you think she _doesn't_ know things?" said Sara, in her stern little
+voice. Sometimes she had a rather stern little voice.
+
+"Sara's mamma knows everything," piped in Lottie. "So does my
+mamma--'cept Sara is my mamma at Miss Minchin's--my other one knows
+everything. The streets are shining, and there are fields and fields of
+lilies, and everybody gathers them. Sara tells me when she puts me to
+bed."
+
+"You wicked thing," said Lavinia, turning on Sara; "making fairy stories
+about heaven."
+
+"There are much more splendid stories in Revelation," returned Sara.
+"Just look and see! How do you know mine are fairy stories? But I can
+tell you"--with a fine bit of unheavenly temper--"you will never find
+out whether they are or not if you're not kinder to people than you are
+now. Come along, Lottie." And she marched out of the room, rather hoping
+that she might see the little servant again somewhere, but she found no
+trace of her when she got into the hall.
+
+"Who is that little girl who makes the fires?" she asked Mariette that
+night.
+
+Mariette broke forth into a flow of description.
+
+Ah, indeed, Mademoiselle Sara might well ask. She was a forlorn little
+thing who had just taken the place of scullery-maid--though, as to being
+scullery-maid, she was everything else besides. She blacked boots and
+grates, and carried heavy coal-scuttles up and down stairs, and scrubbed
+floors and cleaned windows, and was ordered about by everybody. She was
+fourteen years old, but was so stunted in growth that she looked about
+twelve. In truth, Mariette was sorry for her. She was so timid that if
+one chanced to speak to her it appeared as if her poor, frightened eyes
+would jump out of her head.
+
+"What is her name?" asked Sara, who had sat by the table, with her chin
+on her hands, as she listened absorbedly to the recital.
+
+Her name was Becky. Mariette heard every one below-stairs calling,
+"Becky, do this," and "Becky, do that," every five minutes in the day.
+
+Sara sat and looked into the fire, reflecting on Becky for some time
+after Mariette left her. She made up a story of which Becky was the
+ill-used heroine. She thought she looked as if she had never had quite
+enough to eat. Her very eyes were hungry. She hoped she should see her
+again, but though she caught sight of her carrying things up or down
+stairs on several occasions, she always seemed in such a hurry and so
+afraid of being seen that it was impossible to speak to her.
+
+But a few weeks later, on another foggy afternoon, when she entered
+her sitting-room she found herself confronting a rather pathetic
+picture. In her own special and pet easy-chair before the bright fire,
+Becky--with a coal smudge on her nose and several on her apron, with
+her poor little cap hanging half off her head, and an empty coal-box
+on the floor near her--sat fast asleep, tired out beyond even the
+endurance of her hard-working young body. She had been sent up to put
+the bedrooms in order for the evening. There were a great many of
+them, and she had been running about all day. Sara's rooms she had
+saved until the last. They were not like the other rooms, which were
+plain and bare. Ordinary pupils were expected to be satisfied with
+mere necessaries. Sara's comfortable sitting-room seemed a bower of
+luxury to the scullery-maid, though it was, in fact, merely a nice,
+bright little room. But there were pictures and books in it, and
+curious things from India; there was a sofa and the low, soft chair;
+Emily sat in a chair of her own, with the air of a presiding goddess,
+and there was always a glowing fire and a polished grate. Becky saved
+it until the end of her afternoon's work, because it rested her to go
+into it, and she always hoped to snatch a few minutes to sit down in
+the soft chair and look about her, and think about the wonderful good
+fortune of the child who owned such surroundings and who went out on
+the cold days in beautiful hats and coats one tried to catch a glimpse
+of through the area railing.
+
+On this afternoon, when she had sat down, the sensation of relief to
+her short, aching legs had been so wonderful and delightful that it had
+seemed to soothe her whole body, and the glow of warmth and comfort from
+the fire had crept over her like a spell, until, as she looked at the
+red coals, a tired, slow smile stole over her smudged face, her head
+nodded forward without her being aware of it, her eyes drooped, and she
+fell fast asleep. She had really been only about ten minutes in the room
+when Sara entered, but she was in as deep a sleep as if she had been,
+like the Sleeping Beauty, slumbering for a hundred years. But she did
+not look--poor Becky!--like a Sleeping Beauty at all. She looked only
+like an ugly, stunted, worn-out little scullery drudge.
+
+Sara seemed as much unlike her as if she were a creature from another
+world.
+
+On this particular afternoon she had been taking her dancing-lesson,
+and the afternoon on which the dancing-master appeared was rather a
+grand occasion at the seminary, though it occurred every week. The
+pupils were attired in their prettiest frocks, and as Sara danced
+particularly well, she was very much brought forward, and Mariette
+was requested to make her as diaphanous and fine as possible.
+
+To-day a frock the color of a rose had been put on her, and Mariette had
+bought some real buds and made her a wreath to wear on her black locks.
+She had been learning a new, delightful dance in which she had been
+skimming and flying about the room, like a large rose-colored butterfly,
+and the enjoyment and exercise had brought a brilliant, happy glow into
+her face.
+
+When she entered the room, she floated in with a few of the butterfly
+steps,--and there sat Becky, nodding her cap sideways off her head.
+
+"Oh!" cried Sara, softly, when she saw her. "That poor thing!"
+
+It did not occur to her to feel cross at finding her pet chair occupied
+by the small, dingy figure. To tell the truth, she was quite glad to
+find it there. When the ill-used heroine of her story wakened, she could
+talk to her. She crept toward her quietly, and stood looking at her.
+Becky gave a little snore.
+
+"I wish she'd waken herself," Sara said. "I don't like to waken her. But
+Miss Minchin would be cross if she found out. I'll just wait a few
+minutes."
+
+She took a seat on the edge of the table, and sat swinging her slim,
+rose-colored legs, and wondering what it would be best to do. Miss
+Amelia might come in at any moment, and if she did, Becky would be sure
+to be scolded.
+
+"But she is so tired," she thought. "She _is_ so tired!"
+
+A piece of flaming coal ended her perplexity for her that very moment.
+It broke off from a large lump and fell on to the fender. Becky started,
+and opened her eyes with a frightened gasp. She did not know she had
+fallen asleep. She had only sat down for one moment and felt the
+beautiful glow--and here she found herself staring in wild alarm at the
+wonderful pupil, who sat perched quite near her, like a rose-colored
+fairy, with interested eyes.
+
+She sprang up and clutched at her cap. She felt it dangling over her
+ear, and tried wildly to put it straight. Oh, she had got herself into
+trouble now with a vengeance! To have impudently fallen asleep on such
+a young lady's chair! She would be turned out of doors without wages.
+
+She made a sound like a big breathless sob.
+
+"Oh, miss! Oh, miss!" she stuttered. "I arst yer pardon, miss! Oh, I do,
+miss!"
+
+Sara jumped down, and came quite close to her.
+
+"Don't be frightened," she said, quite as if she had been speaking to a
+little girl like herself. "It doesn't matter the least bit."
+
+"I didn't go to do it, miss," protested Becky. "It was the warm
+fire--an' me bein' so tired. It--it _wasn't_ imperence!"
+
+Sara broke into a friendly little laugh, and put her hand on her
+shoulder.
+
+"You were tired," she said; "you could not help it. You are not really
+awake yet."
+
+How poor Becky stared at her! In fact, she had never heard such a nice,
+friendly sound in any one's voice before. She was used to being ordered
+about and scolded, and having her ears boxed. And this one--in her
+rose-colored dancing afternoon splendor--was looking at her as if she
+were not a culprit at all--as if she had a right to be tired--even to
+fall asleep! The touch of the soft, slim little paw on her shoulder was
+the most amazing thing she had ever known.
+
+"Ain't--ain't yer angry, miss?" she gasped. "Ain't yer goin' to tell the
+missus?"
+
+"No," cried out Sara. "Of course I'm not."
+
+The woful fright in the coal-smutted face made her suddenly so sorry
+that she could scarcely bear it. One of her queer thoughts rushed into
+her mind. She put her hand against Becky's cheek.
+
+"Why," she said, "we are just the same--I am only a little girl like
+you. It's just an accident that I am not you, and you are not me!"
+
+Becky did not understand in the least. Her mind could not grasp such
+amazing thoughts, and "an accident" meant to her a calamity in which
+some one was run over or fell off a ladder and was carried to "the
+'orspital."
+
+"A' accident, miss," she fluttered respectfully. "Is it?"
+
+"Yes," Sara answered, and she looked at her dreamily for a moment. But
+the next she spoke in a different tone. She realized that Becky did not
+know what she meant.
+
+"Have you done your work?" she asked. "Dare you stay here a few
+minutes?"
+
+Becky lost her breath again.
+
+"Here, miss? Me?"
+
+Sara ran to the door, opened it, and looked out and listened.
+
+"No one is anywhere about," she explained. "If your bedrooms are
+finished, perhaps you might stay a tiny while. I thought--perhaps--you
+might like a piece of cake."
+
+The next ten minutes seemed to Becky like a sort of delirium. Sara
+opened a cupboard, and gave her a thick slice of cake. She seemed to
+rejoice when it was devoured in hungry bites. She talked and asked
+questions, and laughed until Becky's fears actually began to calm
+themselves, and she once or twice gathered boldness enough to ask a
+question or so herself, daring as she felt it to be.
+
+"Is that--" she ventured, looking longingly at the rose-colored frock.
+And she asked it almost in a whisper. "Is that there your best?"
+
+"It is one of my dancing-frocks," answered Sara. "I like it, don't you?"
+
+For a few seconds Becky was almost speechless with admiration. Then she
+said in an awed voice:
+
+"Onct I see a princess. I was standin' in the street with the crowd
+outside Covin' Garden, watchin' the swells go inter the operer. An'
+there was one every one stared at most. They ses to each other, 'That's
+the princess.' She was a growed-up young lady, but she was pink all
+over--gownd an' cloak, an' flowers an' all. I called her to mind the
+minnit I see you, sittin' there on the table, miss. You looked like
+her."
+
+"I've often thought," said Sara, in her reflecting voice, "that I should
+like to be a princess; I wonder what it feels like. I believe I will
+begin pretending I am one."
+
+Becky stared at her admiringly, and, as before, did not understand her
+in the least. She watched her with a sort of adoration. Very soon Sara
+left her reflections and turned to her with a new question.
+
+"Becky," she said, "weren't you listening to that story?"
+
+"Yes, miss," confessed Becky, a little alarmed again. "I knowed I hadn't
+orter, but it was that beautiful I--I couldn't help it."
+
+"I liked you to listen to it," said Sara. "If you tell stories, you like
+nothing so much as to tell them to people who want to listen. I don't
+know why it is. Would you like to hear the rest?"
+
+Becky lost her breath again.
+
+"Me hear it?" she cried. "Like as if I was a pupil, miss! All about the
+Prince--and the little white Merbabies swimming about laughing--with
+stars in their hair?"
+
+Sara nodded.
+
+"You haven't time to hear it now, I'm afraid," she said; "but if you
+will tell me just what time you come to do my rooms, I will try to be
+here and tell you a bit of it every day until it is finished. It's a
+lovely long one--and I'm always putting new bits to it."
+
+"Then," breathed Becky, devoutly, "I wouldn't mind _how_ heavy the
+coal-boxes was--or _what_ the cook done to me, if--if I might have that
+to think of."
+
+"You may," said Sara. "I'll tell it _all_ to you."
+
+When Becky went down-stairs, she was not the same Becky who had
+staggered up, loaded down by the weight of the coal-scuttle. She had
+an extra piece of cake in her pocket, and she had been fed and warmed,
+but not only by cake and fire. Something else had warmed and fed her,
+and the something else was Sara.
+
+When she was gone Sara sat on her favorite perch on the end of her
+table. Her feet were on a chair, her elbows on her knees, and her chin
+in her hands.
+
+"If I _was_ a princess--a _real_ princess," she murmured, "I could
+scatter largess to the populace. But even if I am only a pretend
+princess, I can invent little things to do for people. Things like this.
+She was just as happy as if it was largess. I'll pretend that to do
+things people like is scattering largess. I've scattered largess."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE DIAMOND-MINES
+
+
+Not very long after this a very exciting thing happened. Not only Sara,
+but the entire school, found it exciting, and made it the chief subject
+of conversation for weeks after it occurred. In one of his letters
+Captain Crewe told a most interesting story. A friend who had been at
+school with him when he was a boy had unexpectedly come to see him in
+India. He was the owner of a large tract of land upon which diamonds had
+been found, and he was engaged in developing the mines. If all went as
+was confidently expected, he would become possessed of such wealth as it
+made one dizzy to think of; and because he was fond of the friend of his
+school-days, he had given him an opportunity to share in this enormous
+fortune by becoming a partner in his scheme. This, at least, was what
+Sara gathered from his letters. It is true that any other business
+scheme, however magnificent, would have had but small attraction for her
+or for the school-room; but "diamond-mines" sounded so like the "Arabian
+Nights" that no one could be indifferent. Sara thought them enchanting,
+and painted pictures, for Ermengarde and Lottie, of labyrinthine
+passages in the bowels of the earth, where sparkling stones studded the
+walls and roofs and ceilings, and strange, dark men dug them out with
+heavy picks. Ermengarde delighted in the story, and Lottie insisted on
+its being retold to her every evening. Lavinia was very spiteful about
+it, and told Jessie that she didn't believe such things as diamond-mines
+existed.
+
+"My mamma has a diamond ring which cost forty pounds," she said. "And it
+is not a big one, either. If there were mines full of diamonds, people
+would be so rich it would be ridiculous."
+
+"Perhaps Sara will be so rich that she will be ridiculous," giggled
+Jessie.
+
+"She's ridiculous without being rich," Lavinia sniffed.
+
+"I believe you hate her," said Jessie.
+
+"No, I don't," snapped Lavinia. "But I don't believe in mines full of
+diamonds."
+
+"Well, people have to get them from somewhere," said Jessie.
+"Lavinia,"--with a new giggle,--"what do you think Gertrude says?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure; and I don't care if it's something more about
+that everlasting Sara."
+
+"Well, it is. One of her 'pretends' is that she is a princess. She plays
+it all the time--even in school. She says it makes her learn her lessons
+better. She wants Ermengarde to be one, too, but Ermengarde says she is
+too fat."
+
+"She _is_ too fat," said Lavinia. "And Sara is too thin."
+
+Naturally, Jessie giggled again.
+
+"She says it has nothing to do with what you look like, or what you
+have. It has only to do with what you _think_ of, and what you _do_."
+
+"I suppose she thinks she could be a princess if she was a beggar," said
+Lavinia. "Let us begin to call her Your Royal Highness."
+
+Lessons for the day were over, and they were sitting before the
+school-room fire, enjoying the time they liked best. It was the
+time when Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia were taking their tea in the
+sitting-room sacred to themselves. At this hour a great deal of talking
+was done, and a great many secrets changed hands, particularly if the
+younger pupils behaved themselves well, and did not squabble or run
+about noisily, which it must be confessed they usually did. When they
+made an uproar the older girls usually interfered with scoldings and
+shakes. They were expected to keep order, and there was danger that if
+they did not, Miss Minchin or Miss Amelia would appear and put an end to
+festivities. Even as Lavinia spoke the door opened and Sara entered with
+Lottie, whose habit was to trot everywhere after her like a little dog.
+
+"There she is, with that horrid child!" exclaimed Lavinia, in a whisper.
+"If she's so fond of her, why doesn't she keep her in her own room? She
+will begin howling about something in five minutes."
+
+It happened that Lottie had been seized with a sudden desire to play in
+the school-room, and had begged her adopted parent to come with her. She
+joined a group of little ones who were playing in a corner. Sara curled
+herself up in the window-seat, opened a book, and began to read. It was
+a book about the French Revolution, and she was soon lost in a harrowing
+picture of the prisoners in the Bastille--men who had spent so many
+years in dungeons that when they were dragged out by those who rescued
+them, their long, gray hair and beards almost hid their faces, and they
+had forgotten that an outside world existed at all, and were like beings
+in a dream.
+
+She was so far away from the school-room that it was not agreeable to be
+dragged back suddenly by a howl from Lottie. Never did she find anything
+so difficult as to keep herself from losing her temper when she was
+suddenly disturbed while absorbed in a book. People who are fond of
+books know the feeling of irritation which sweeps over them at such a
+moment. The temptation to be unreasonable and snappish is one not easy
+to manage.
+
+"It makes me feel as if some one had hit me," Sara had told Ermengarde
+once in confidence. "And as if I want to hit back. I have to remember
+things quickly to keep from saying something ill-tempered."
+
+She had to remember things quickly when she laid her book on the
+window-seat and jumped down from her comfortable corner.
+
+Lottie had been sliding across the school-room floor, and, having first
+irritated Lavinia and Jessie by making a noise, had ended by falling
+down and hurting her fat knee. She was screaming and dancing up and
+down in the midst of a group of friends and enemies, who were
+alternately coaxing and scolding her.
+
+"Stop this minute, you cry-baby! Stop this minute!" Lavinia commanded.
+
+"I'm not a cry-baby--I'm not!" wailed Lottie. "Sara, Sa--ra!"
+
+"If she doesn't stop, Miss Minchin will hear her," cried Jessie. "Lottie
+darling, I'll give you a penny!"
+
+"I don't want your penny," sobbed Lottie; and she looked down at the fat
+knee, and, seeing a drop of blood on it, burst forth again.
+
+Sara flew across the room and, kneeling down, put her arms round her.
+
+"Now, Lottie," she said. "Now, Lottie, you _promised_ Sara."
+
+"She said I was a cry-baby," wept Lottie.
+
+Sara patted her, but spoke in the steady voice Lottie knew.
+
+"But if you cry, you will be one, Lottie pet. You _promised_."
+
+Lottie remembered that she had promised, but she preferred to lift up
+her voice.
+
+"I haven't any mamma," she proclaimed. "I haven't--a bit--of mamma."
+
+"Yes, you have," said Sara, cheerfully. "Have you forgotten? Don't you
+know that Sara is your mamma? Don't you want Sara for your mamma?"
+
+Lottie cuddled up to her with a consoled sniff.
+
+"Come and sit in the window-seat with me," Sara went on, "and I'll
+whisper a story to you."
+
+"Will you?" whimpered Lottie. "Will you--tell me--about the
+diamond-mines?"
+
+"The diamond-mines?" broke out Lavinia. "Nasty, little spoiled thing, I
+should like to _slap_ her!"
+
+Sara got up quickly on her feet. It must be remembered that she had been
+very deeply absorbed in the book about the Bastille, and she had had to
+recall several things rapidly when she realized that she must go and
+take care of her adopted child. She was not an angel, and she was not
+fond of Lavinia.
+
+"Well," she said, with some fire, "I should like to slap _you_,--but I
+don't want to slap you!" restraining herself. "At least I both want to
+slap you--and I should _like_ to slap you,--but I _won't_ slap you. We
+are not little gutter children. We are both old enough to know better."
+
+Here was Lavinia's opportunity.
+
+"Ah, yes, your royal highness," she said. "We are princesses, I believe.
+At least one of us is. The school ought to be very fashionable now Miss
+Minchin has a princess for a pupil."
+
+Sara started toward her. She looked as if she were going to box her
+ears. Perhaps she was. Her trick of pretending things was the joy of her
+life. She never spoke of it to girls she was not fond of. Her new
+"pretend" about being a princess was very near to her heart, and she was
+shy and sensitive about it. She had meant it to be rather a secret, and
+here was Lavinia deriding it before nearly all the school. She felt the
+blood rush up into her face and tingle in her ears. She only just saved
+herself. If you were a princess, you did not fly into rages. Her hand
+dropped, and she stood quite still a moment. When she spoke it was in a
+quiet, steady voice; she held her head up, and everybody listened to
+her.
+
+"It's true," she said. "Sometimes I do pretend I am a princess. I
+pretend I am a princess, so that I can try and behave like one."
+
+Lavinia could not think of exactly the right thing to say. Several times
+she had found that she could not think of a satisfactory reply when she
+was dealing with Sara. The reason of this was that, somehow, the rest
+always seemed to be vaguely in sympathy with her opponent. She saw now
+that they were pricking up their ears interestedly. The truth was, they
+liked princesses, and they all hoped they might hear something more
+definite about this one, and drew nearer Sara accordingly.
+
+Lavinia could only invent one remark, and it fell rather flat.
+
+"Dear me!" she said; "I hope, when you ascend the throne, you won't
+forget us."
+
+"I won't," said Sara, and she did not utter another word, but stood
+quite still, and stared at her steadily as she saw her take Jessie's arm
+and turn away.
+
+After this, the girls who were jealous of her used to speak of her as
+"Princess Sara" whenever they wished to be particularly disdainful, and
+those who were fond of her gave her the name among themselves as a term
+of affection. No one called her "princess" instead of "Sara," but her
+adorers were much pleased with the picturesqueness and grandeur of the
+title, and Miss Minchin, hearing of it, mentioned it more than once to
+visiting parents, feeling that it rather suggested a sort of royal
+boarding-school.
+
+To Becky it seemed the most appropriate thing in the world. The
+acquaintance begun on the foggy afternoon when she had jumped up
+terrified from her sleep in the comfortable chair, had ripened and
+grown, though it must be confessed that Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia
+knew very little about it. They were aware that Sara was "kind" to the
+scullery-maid, but they knew nothing of certain delightful moments
+snatched perilously when, the up-stairs rooms being set in order with
+lightning rapidity, Sara's sitting-room was reached, and the heavy
+coal-box set down with a sigh of joy. At such times stories were told by
+instalments, things of a satisfying nature were either produced and
+eaten or hastily tucked into pockets to be disposed of at night, when
+Becky went up-stairs to her attic to bed.
+
+"But I has to eat 'em careful, miss," she said once; "'cos if I leaves
+crumbs the rats come out to get 'em."
+
+"Rats!" exclaimed Sara, in horror. "Are there _rats_ there?"
+
+"Lots of 'em, miss," Becky answered in quite a matter-of-fact manner.
+"There mostly is rats an' mice in attics. You gets used to the noise
+they makes scuttling about. I've got so I don't mind 'em s' long as they
+don't run over my piller."
+
+"Ugh!" said Sara.
+
+"You gets used to anythin' after a bit," said Becky. "You have to, miss,
+if you're born a scullery-maid. I'd rather have rats than cockroaches."
+
+"So would I," said Sara; "I suppose you might make friends with a rat in
+time, but I don't believe I should like to make friends with a
+cockroach."
+
+Sometimes Becky did not dare to spend more than a few minutes in the
+bright, warm room, and when this was the case perhaps only a few words
+could be exchanged, and a small purchase slipped into the old-fashioned
+pocket Becky carried under her dress skirt, tied round her waist with a
+band of tape. The search for and discovery of satisfying things to eat
+which could be packed into small compass, added a new interest to Sara's
+existence. When she drove or walked out, she used to look into shop
+windows eagerly. The first time it occurred to her to bring home two or
+three little meat-pies, she felt that she had hit upon a discovery. When
+she exhibited them, Becky's eyes quite sparkled.
+
+"Oh, miss!" she murmured. "Them will be nice an' fillin'. It's
+fillin'ness that's best. Sponge-cake's a 'evingly thing, but it melts
+away like--if you understand, miss. These'll just _stay_ in yer
+stummick."
+
+"Well," hesitated Sara, "I don't think it would be good if they stayed
+always, but I do believe they will be satisfying."
+
+They were satisfying,--and so were beef sandwiches, bought at a
+cook-shop,--and so were rolls and Bologna sausage. In time, Becky began
+to lose her hungry, tired feeling, and the coal-box did not seem so
+unbearably heavy.
+
+However heavy it was, and whatsoever the temper of the cook, and the
+hardness of the work heaped upon her shoulders, she had always the
+chance of the afternoon to look forward to--the chance that Miss Sara
+would be able to be in her sitting-room. In fact, the mere seeing of
+Miss Sara would have been enough without meat-pies. If there was time
+only for a few words, they were always friendly, merry words that put
+heart into one; and if there was time for more, then there was an
+instalment of a story to be told, or some other thing one remembered
+afterward and sometimes lay awake in one's bed in the attic to think
+over. Sara--who was only doing what she unconsciously liked better than
+anything else, Nature having made her for a giver--had not the least
+idea what she meant to poor Becky, and how wonderful a benefactor she
+seemed. If Nature has made you for a giver, your hands are born open,
+and so is your heart; and though there may be times when your hands
+are empty, your heart is always full, and you can give things out of
+that--warm things, kind things, sweet things,--help and comfort and
+laughter,--and sometimes gay, kind laughter is the best help of all.
+
+Becky had scarcely known what laughter was through all her poor, little
+hard-driven life. Sara made her laugh, and laughed with her; and, though
+neither of them quite knew it, the laughter was as "fillin'" as the
+meat-pies.
+
+A few weeks before Sara's eleventh birthday a letter came to her from
+her father, which did not seem to be written in such boyish high spirits
+as usual. He was not very well, and was evidently overweighted by the
+business connected with the diamond-mines.
+
+"You see, little Sara," he wrote, "your daddy is not a business man at
+all, and figures and documents bother him. He does not really understand
+them, and all this seems so enormous. Perhaps, if I was not feverish I
+should not be awake, tossing about, one half of the night and spend the
+other half in troublesome dreams. If my little missus were here, I dare
+say she would give me some solemn, good advice. You would, wouldn't you,
+little missus?"
+
+One of his many jokes had been to call her his "little missus" because
+she had such an old-fashioned air.
+
+He had made wonderful preparations for her birthday. Among other things,
+a new doll had been ordered in Paris, and her wardrobe was to be,
+indeed, a marvel of splendid perfection. When she had replied to the
+letter asking her if the doll would be an acceptable present, Sara had
+been very quaint.
+
+"I am getting very old," she wrote; "you see, I shall never live to have
+another doll given me. This will be my last doll. There is something
+solemn about it. If I could write poetry, I am sure a poem about 'A Last
+Doll' would be very nice. But I cannot write poetry. I have tried,
+and it made me laugh. It did not sound like Watts or Coleridge or
+Shakespeare at all. No one could ever take Emily's place, but I should
+respect the Last Doll very much; and I am sure the school would love it.
+They all like dolls, though some of the big ones--the almost fifteen
+ones--pretend they are too grown up."
+
+Captain Crewe had a splitting headache when he read this letter in his
+bungalow in India. The table before him was heaped with papers and
+letters which were alarming him and filling him with anxious dread, but
+he laughed as he had not laughed for weeks.
+
+"Oh," he said, "she's better fun every year she lives. God grant this
+business may right itself and leave me free to run home and see her.
+What wouldn't I give to have her little arms round my neck this minute!
+What _wouldn't_ I give!"
+
+The birthday was to be celebrated by great festivities. The school-room
+was to be decorated, and there was to be a party. The boxes containing
+the presents were to be opened with great ceremony, and there was to be
+a glittering feast spread in Miss Minchin's sacred room. When the day
+arrived the whole house was in a whirl of excitement. How the morning
+passed nobody quite knew, because there seemed such preparations to be
+made. The school-room was being decked with garlands of holly; the desks
+had been moved away, and red covers had been put on the forms which were
+arrayed round the room against the wall.
+
+When Sara went into her sitting-room in the morning, she found on the
+table a small, dumpy package, tied up in a piece of brown paper. She
+knew it was a present, and she thought she could guess whom it came
+from. She opened it quite tenderly. It was a square pincushion, made of
+not quite clean red flannel, and black pins had been stuck carefully
+into it to form the words, "Menny hapy returns."
+
+"Oh!" cried Sara, with a warm feeling in her heart. "What pains she has
+taken! I like it so, it--it makes me feel sorrowful."
+
+But the next moment she was mystified. On the under side of the
+pincushion was secured a card, bearing in neat letters the name "Miss
+Amelia Minchin."
+
+Sara turned it over and over.
+
+"Miss Amelia!" she said to herself. "How _can_ it be!"
+
+And just at that very moment she heard the door being cautiously pushed
+open and saw Becky peeping round it.
+
+There was an affectionate, happy grin on her face, and she shuffled
+forward and stood nervously pulling at her fingers.
+
+"Do yer like it, Miss Sara?" she said. "Do yer?"
+
+"Like it?" cried Sara. "You darling Becky, you made it all yourself."
+
+Becky gave a hysteric but joyful sniff, and her eyes looked quite moist
+with delight.
+
+"It ain't nothin' but flannin, an' the flannin ain't new; but I wanted
+to give yer somethin' an' I made it of nights. I knew yer could
+_pretend_ it was satin with diamond pins in. _I_ tried to when I was
+makin' it. The card, miss," rather doubtfully; "'t warn't wrong of me
+to pick it up out o' the dust-bin, was it? Miss 'Meliar had throwed it
+away. I hadn't no card o' my own, an' I knowed it wouldn't be a proper
+presink if I didn't pin a card on--so I pinned Miss 'Meliar's."
+
+Sara flew at her and hugged her. She could not have told herself or any
+one else why there was a lump in her throat.
+
+"Oh, Becky!" she cried out, with a queer little laugh. "I love you,
+Becky,--I do, I do!"
+
+"Oh, miss!" breathed Becky. "Thank yer, miss, kindly; It ain't good
+enough for that. The--the flannin wasn't new."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE DIAMOND-MINES AGAIN
+
+
+When Sara entered the holly-hung school-room in the afternoon, she did
+so as the head of a sort of procession. Miss Minchin, in her grandest
+silk dress, led her by the hand. A man-servant followed, carrying the
+box containing the Last Doll, a housemaid carried a second box, and
+Becky brought up the rear, carrying a third and wearing a clean apron
+and a new cap. Sara would have much preferred to enter in the usual way,
+but Miss Minchin had sent for her, and, after an interview in her
+private sitting-room, had expressed her wishes.
+
+"This is not an ordinary occasion," she said. "I do not desire that it
+should be treated as one."
+
+So Sara was led grandly in and felt shy when, on her entry, the big
+girls stared at her and touched each other's elbows, and the little ones
+began to squirm joyously in their seats.
+
+"Silence, young ladies!" said Miss Minchin, at the murmur which arose.
+"James, place the box on the table and remove the lid. Emma, put yours
+upon a chair. Becky!" suddenly and severely.
+
+Becky had quite forgotten herself in her excitement, and was grinning at
+Lottie, who was wriggling with rapturous expectation. She almost dropped
+her box, the disapproving voice so startled her, and her frightened,
+bobbing courtesy of apology was so funny that Lavinia and Jessie
+tittered.
+
+"It is not your place to look at the young ladies," said Miss Minchin.
+"You forget yourself. Put your box down."
+
+Becky obeyed with alarmed haste and hastily backed toward the door.
+
+"You may leave us," Miss Minchin announced to the servants with a wave
+of her hand.
+
+Becky stepped aside respectfully to allow the superior servants to pass
+out first. She could not help casting a longing glance at the box on the
+table. Something made of blue satin was peeping from between the folds
+of tissue-paper.
+
+"If you please, Miss Minchin," said Sara, suddenly, "mayn't Becky stay?"
+
+It was a bold thing to do. Miss Minchin was betrayed into something like
+a slight jump. Then she put her eye-glass up, and gazed at her show
+pupil disturbedly.
+
+"Becky!" she exclaimed. "My dearest Sara!"
+
+Sara advanced a step toward her.
+
+"I want her because I know she will like to see the presents," she
+explained. "She is a little girl, too, you know."
+
+Miss Minchin was scandalized. She glanced from one figure to the other.
+
+"My dear Sara," she said, "Becky is the scullery-maid.
+Scullery-maids--er--are not little girls."
+
+It really had not occurred to her to think of them in that light.
+Scullery-maids were machines who carried coal-scuttles and made fires.
+
+"But Becky is," said Sara. "And I know she would enjoy herself. Please
+let her stay--because it is my birthday."
+
+Miss Minchin replied with much dignity:
+
+"As you ask it as a birthday favor--she may stay. Rebecca, thank Miss
+Sara for her great kindness."
+
+Becky had been backing into the corner, twisting the hem of her apron in
+delighted suspense. She came forward, bobbing courtesies, but between
+Sara's eyes and her own there passed a gleam of friendly understanding,
+while her words tumbled over each other.
+
+"Oh, if you please, miss! I'm that grateful, miss! I did want to see the
+doll, miss, that I did. Thank you, miss. And thank you, ma'am,"--turning
+and making an alarmed bob to Miss Minchin,--"for letting me take the
+liberty."
+
+Miss Minchin waved her hand again--this time it was in the direction of
+the corner near the door.
+
+"Go and stand there," she commanded. "Not too near the young ladies."
+
+Becky went to her place, grinning. She did not care where she was sent,
+so that she might have the luck of being inside the room, instead of
+being down-stairs in the scullery, while these delights were going on.
+She did not even mind when Miss Minchin cleared her throat ominously
+and spoke again.
+
+"Now, young ladies, I have a few words to say to you," she announced.
+
+"She's going to make a speech," whispered one of the girls. "I wish it
+was over."
+
+Sara felt rather uncomfortable. As this was her party, it was probable
+that the speech was about her. It is not agreeable to stand in a
+school-room and have a speech made about you.
+
+"You are aware, young ladies," the speech began,--for it was a
+speech,--"that dear Sara is eleven years old to-day."
+
+"_Dear_ Sara!" murmured Lavinia.
+
+"Several of you here have also been eleven years old, but Sara's
+birthdays are rather different from other little girls' birthdays. When
+she is older she will be heiress to a large fortune, which it will be
+her duty to spend in a meritorious manner."
+
+"The diamond-mines," giggled Jessie, in a whisper.
+
+Sara did not hear her; but as she stood with her green-gray eyes fixed
+steadily on Miss Minchin, she felt herself growing rather hot. When Miss
+Minchin talked about money, she felt somehow that she always hated
+her--and, of course, it was disrespectful to hate grown-up people.
+
+"When her dear papa, Captain Crewe, brought her from India and gave her
+into my care," the speech proceeded, "he said to me, in a jesting way,
+'I am afraid she will be very rich, Miss Minchin.' My reply was, 'Her
+education at my seminary, Captain Crewe, shall be such as will adorn the
+largest fortune.' Sara has become my most accomplished pupil. Her French
+and her dancing are a credit to the seminary. Her manners--which have
+caused you to call her Princess Sara--are perfect. Her amiability she
+exhibits by giving you this afternoon's party. I hope you appreciate her
+generosity. I wish you to express your appreciation of it by saying
+aloud all together, 'Thank you, Sara!'"
+
+The entire school-room rose to its feet as it had done the morning Sara
+remembered so well.
+
+"Thank you, Sara!" it said, and it must be confessed that Lottie jumped
+up and down. Sara looked rather shy for a moment. She made a
+courtesy--and it was a very nice one.
+
+"Thank you," she said, "for coming to my party."
+
+"Very pretty, indeed, Sara," approved Miss Minchin. "That is
+what a real princess does when the populace applauds her.
+Lavinia,"--scathingly,--"the sound you just made was extremely like a
+snort. If you are jealous of your fellow-pupil, I beg you will express
+your feelings in some more ladylike manner. Now I will leave you to
+enjoy yourselves."
+
+The instant she had swept out of the room the spell her presence always
+had upon them was broken. The door had scarcely closed before every seat
+was empty. The little girls jumped or tumbled out of theirs; the older
+ones wasted no time in deserting theirs. There was a rush toward the
+boxes. Sara had bent over one of them with a delighted face.
+
+"These are books, I know," she said.
+
+The little children broke into a rueful murmur, and Ermengarde looked
+aghast.
+
+"Does your papa send you books for a birthday present?" she exclaimed.
+"Why, he's as bad as mine. Don't open them, Sara."
+
+"I like them," Sara laughed, but she turned to the biggest box. When she
+took out the Last Doll it was so magnificent that the children uttered
+delighted groans of joy, and actually drew back to gaze at it in
+breathless rapture.
+
+"She is almost as big as Lottie," some one gasped.
+
+Lottie clapped her hands and danced about, giggling.
+
+"She's dressed for the theatre," said Lavinia. "Her cloak is lined with
+ermine."
+
+"Oh!" cried Ermengarde, darting forward, "she has an opera-glass in her
+hand--a blue-and-gold one."
+
+"Here is her trunk," said Sara. "Let us open it and look at her things."
+
+[Illustration: The children crowded clamoring around her.]
+
+She sat down upon the floor and turned the key. The children crowded
+clamoring around her, as she lifted tray after tray and revealed their
+contents. Never had the school-room been in such an uproar. There
+were lace collars and silk stockings and handkerchiefs; there was a
+jewel-case containing a necklace and a tiara which looked quite as if
+they were made of real diamonds; there was a long sealskin and muff;
+there were ball dresses and walking dresses and visiting dresses; there
+were hats and tea-gowns and fans. Even Lavinia and Jessie forgot that
+they were too elderly to care for dolls, and uttered exclamations of
+delight and caught up things to look at them.
+
+"Suppose," Sara said, as she stood by the table, putting a large,
+black-velvet hat on the impassively smiling owner of all these
+splendors--"suppose she understands human talk and feels proud of being
+admired."
+
+"You are always supposing things," said Lavinia, and her air was very
+superior.
+
+"I know I am," answered Sara, undisturbedly. "I like it. There is
+nothing so nice as supposing. It's almost like being a fairy. If you
+suppose anything hard enough it seems as if it were real."
+
+"It's all very well to suppose things if you have everything," said
+Lavinia. "Could you suppose and pretend if you were a beggar and lived
+in a garret?"
+
+Sara stopped arranging the Last Doll's ostrich plumes, and looked
+thoughtful.
+
+"I _believe_ I could," she said. "If one was a beggar, one would have
+to suppose and pretend all the time. But it mightn't be easy."
+
+She often thought afterward how strange it was that just as she had
+finished saying this--just at that very moment--Miss Amelia came into
+the room.
+
+"Sara," she said, "your papa's solicitor, Mr. Barrow, has called to see
+Miss Minchin, and, as she must talk to him alone and the refreshments
+are laid in her parlor, you had all better come and have your feast now,
+so that my sister can have her interview here in the school-room."
+
+Refreshments were not likely to be disdained at any hour, and many
+pairs of eyes gleamed. Miss Amelia arranged the procession into decorum,
+and then, with Sara at her side heading it, she led it away, leaving
+the Last Doll sitting upon a chair with the glories of her wardrobe
+scattered about her; dresses and coats hung upon chair backs, piles of
+lace-frilled petticoats lying upon their seats.
+
+Becky, who was not expected to partake of refreshments, had the
+indiscretion to linger a moment to look at these beauties--it really was
+an indiscretion.
+
+"Go back to your work, Becky," Miss Amelia had said; but she had stopped
+to reverently pick up first a muff and then a coat, and while she stood
+looking at them adoringly, she heard Miss Minchin upon the threshold,
+and, being smitten with terror at the thought of being accused of taking
+liberties, she rashly darted under the table, which hid her by its
+table-cloth.
+
+Miss Minchin came into the room, accompanied by a sharp-featured, dry
+little gentleman, who looked rather disturbed. Miss Minchin herself also
+looked rather disturbed, it must be admitted, and she gazed at the dry
+little gentleman with an irritated and puzzled expression.
+
+She sat down with stiff dignity, and waved him to a chair.
+
+"Pray, be seated, Mr. Barrow," she said.
+
+Mr. Barrow did not sit down at once. His attention seemed attracted
+by the Last Doll and the things which surrounded her. He settled his
+eye-glasses and looked at them in nervous disapproval. The Last Doll
+herself did not seem to mind this in the least. She merely sat upright
+and returned his gaze indifferently.
+
+"A hundred pounds," Mr. Barrow remarked succinctly. "All expensive
+material, and made at a Parisian modiste's. He spent money lavishly
+enough, that young man."
+
+Miss Minchin felt offended. This seemed to be a disparagement of her
+best patron and was a liberty.
+
+Even solicitors had no right to take liberties.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Barrow," she said stiffly. "I do not
+understand."
+
+"Birthday presents," said Mr. Barrow in the same critical manner, "to a
+child eleven years old! Mad extravagance, I call it."
+
+Miss Minchin drew herself up still more rigidly.
+
+"Captain Crewe is a man of fortune," she said. "The diamond-mines
+alone--"
+
+Mr. Barrow wheeled round upon her.
+
+"Diamond-mines!" he broke out. "There are none! Never were!"
+
+Miss Minchin actually got up from her chair.
+
+"What!" she cried. "What do you mean?"
+
+"At any rate," answered Mr. Barrow, quite snappishly, "it would have
+been much better if there never had been any."
+
+"Any diamond-mines?" ejaculated Miss Minchin, catching at the back of a
+chair and feeling as if a splendid dream was fading away from her.
+
+"Diamond-mines spell ruin oftener than they spell wealth," said Mr.
+Barrow. "When a man is in the hands of a very dear friend and is not a
+business man himself, he had better steer clear of the dear friend's
+diamond-mines, or gold-mines, or any other kind of mines dear friends
+want his money to put into. The late Captain Crewe--"
+
+Here Miss Minchin stopped him with a gasp.
+
+"The _late_ Captain Crewe!" she cried out; "the _late_! You don't come
+to tell me that Captain Crewe is--"
+
+"He's dead, ma'am," Mr. Barrow answered with jerky brusqueness. "Died of
+jungle fever and business troubles combined. The jungle fever might not
+have killed him if he had not been driven mad by the business troubles,
+and the business troubles might not have put an end to him if the jungle
+fever had not assisted. Captain Crewe is dead!"
+
+Miss Minchin dropped into her chair again. The words he had spoken
+filled her with alarm.
+
+"What _were_ his business troubles?" she said. "What _were_ they?"
+
+"Diamond-mines," answered Mr. Barrow, "and dear friends--and ruin."
+
+Miss Minchin lost her breath.
+
+"Ruin!" she gasped out.
+
+"Lost every penny. That young man had too much money. The dear friend
+was mad on the subject of the diamond-mine. He put all his own money
+into it, and all Captain Crewe's. Then the dear friend ran away--Captain
+Crewe was already stricken with fever when the news came. The shock was
+too much for him. He died delirious, raving about his little girl--and
+didn't leave a penny."
+
+Now Miss Minchin understood, and never had she received such a blow in
+her life. Her show pupil, her show patron, swept away from the Select
+Seminary at one blow. She felt as if she had been outraged and robbed,
+and that Captain Crewe and Sara and Mr. Barrow were equally to blame.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," she cried out, "that he left _nothing_! That
+Sara will have no fortune! That the child is a beggar! That she is left
+on my hands a little pauper instead of an heiress?"
+
+Mr. Barrow was a shrewd business man, and felt it as well to make his
+own freedom from responsibility quite clear without any delay.
+
+"She is certainly left a beggar," he replied. "And she is certainly left
+on your hands, ma'am,--as she hasn't a relation in the world that we
+know of."
+
+Miss Minchin started forward. She looked as if she was going to open the
+door and rush out of the room to stop the festivities going on joyfully
+and rather noisily that moment over the refreshments.
+
+"It is monstrous!" she said. "She's in my sitting-room at this moment,
+dressed in silk gauze and lace petticoats, giving a party at my
+expense."
+
+"She's giving it at your expense, madam, if she's giving it," said Mr.
+Barrow, calmly. "Barrow & Skipworth are not responsible for anything.
+There never was a cleaner sweep made of a man's fortune. Captain Crewe
+died without paying _our_ last bill--and it was a big one."
+
+Miss Minchin turned back from the door in increased indignation. This
+was worse than any one could have dreamed of its being.
+
+"That is what has happened to me!" she cried. "I was always so sure of
+his payments that I went to all sorts of ridiculous expenses for the
+child. I paid the bills for that ridiculous doll and her ridiculous
+fantastic wardrobe. The child was to have anything she wanted. She has a
+carriage and a pony and a maid, and I've paid for all of them since the
+last cheque came."
+
+Mr. Barrow evidently did not intend to remain to listen to the story of
+Miss Minchin's grievances after he had made the position of his firm
+clear and related the mere dry facts. He did not feel any particular
+sympathy for irate keepers of boarding-schools.
+
+"You had better not pay for anything more, ma'am," he remarked, "unless
+you want to make presents to the young lady. No one will remember you.
+She hasn't a brass farthing to call her own."
+
+"But what am I to do?" demanded Miss Minchin, as if she felt it entirely
+his duty to make the matter right. "What am I to do?"
+
+"There isn't anything to do," said Mr. Barrow, folding up his
+eye-glasses and slipping them into his pocket. "Captain Crewe is dead.
+The child is left a pauper. Nobody is responsible for her but you."
+
+"I am not responsible for her, and I refuse to be made responsible!"
+
+Miss Minchin became quite white with rage.
+
+Mr. Barrow turned to go.
+
+"I have nothing to do with that, madam," he said uninterestedly. "Barrow
+& Skipworth are not responsible. Very sorry the thing has happened, of
+course."
+
+"If you think she is to be foisted off on me, you are greatly mistaken,"
+Miss Minchin gasped. "I have been robbed and cheated; I will turn her
+into the street!"
+
+If she had not been so furious, she would have been too discreet to say
+quite so much. She saw herself burdened with an extravagantly brought-up
+child whom she had always resented, and she lost all self-control.
+
+Mr. Barrow undisturbedly moved toward the door.
+
+"I wouldn't do that, madam," he commented; "it wouldn't look well.
+Unpleasant story to get about in connection with the establishment.
+Pupil bundled out penniless and without friends."
+
+He was a clever business man, and he knew what he was saying. He also
+knew that Miss Minchin was a business woman, and would be shrewd enough
+to see the truth. She could not afford to do a thing which would make
+people speak of her as cruel and hard-hearted.
+
+"Better keep her and make use of her," he added. "She's a clever child,
+I believe. You can get a good deal out of her as she grows older."
+
+"I will get a good deal out of her before she grows older!" exclaimed
+Miss Minchin.
+
+"I am sure you will, ma'am," said Mr. Barrow, with a little sinister
+smile. "I am sure you will. Good morning!"
+
+He bowed himself out and closed the door, and it must be confessed that
+Miss Minchin stood for a few moments and glared at it. What he had said
+was quite true. She knew it. She had absolutely no redress. Her show
+pupil had melted into nothingness, leaving only a friendless, beggared
+little girl. Such money as she herself had advanced was lost and could
+not be regained.
+
+And as she stood there breathless under her sense of injury, there fell
+upon her ears a burst of gay voices from her own sacred room, which had
+actually been given up to the feast. She could at least stop this.
+
+But as she started toward the door it was opened by Miss Amelia, who,
+when she caught sight of the changed, angry face, fell back a step in
+alarm.
+
+"What _is_ the matter, sister?" she ejaculated.
+
+Miss Minchin's voice was almost fierce when she answered:
+
+"Where is Sara Crewe?"
+
+Miss Amelia was bewildered.
+
+"Sara!" she stammered. "Why, she's with the children in your room, of
+course."
+
+"Has she a black frock in her sumptuous wardrobe?"--in bitter irony.
+
+"A black frock?" Miss Amelia stammered again. "A _black_ one?"
+
+"She has frocks of every other color. Has she a black one?"
+
+Miss Amelia began to turn pale.
+
+"No--ye-es!" she said. "But it is too short for her. She has only the
+old black velvet, and she has outgrown it."
+
+"Go and tell her to take off that preposterous pink silk gauze, and put
+the black one on, whether it is too short or not. She has done with
+finery!"
+
+Then Miss Amelia began to wring her fat hands and cry.
+
+"Oh, sister!" she sniffed. "Oh, sister! What _can_ have happened?"
+
+Miss Minchin wasted no words.
+
+"Captain Crewe is dead," she said. "He has died without a penny. That
+spoiled, pampered, fanciful child is left a pauper on my hands."
+
+Miss Amelia sat down quite heavily in the nearest chair.
+
+"Hundreds of pounds have I spent on nonsense for her. And I shall never
+see a penny of it. Put a stop to this ridiculous party of hers. Go and
+make her change her frock at once."
+
+"I?" panted Miss Amelia. "M-must I go and tell her now?"
+
+"This moment!" was the fierce answer. "Don't sit staring like a goose.
+Go!"
+
+Poor Miss Amelia was accustomed to being called a goose. She knew, in
+fact, that she was rather a goose, and that it was left to geese to do a
+great many disagreeable things. It was a somewhat embarrassing thing to
+go into the midst of a room full of delighted children, and tell the
+giver of the feast that she had suddenly been transformed into a little
+beggar, and must go up-stairs and put on an old black frock which was
+too small for her. But the thing must be done. This was evidently not
+the time when questions might be asked.
+
+She rubbed her eyes with her handkerchief until they looked quite red.
+After which she got up and went out of the room, without venturing to
+say another word. When her older sister looked and spoke as she had done
+just now, the wisest course to pursue was to obey orders without any
+comment. Miss Minchin walked across the room. She spoke to herself aloud
+without knowing that she was doing it. During the last year the story of
+the diamond-mines had suggested all sorts of possibilities to her. Even
+proprietors of seminaries might make fortunes in stocks, with the aid of
+owners of mines. And now, instead of looking forward to gains, she was
+left to look back upon losses.
+
+"The Princess Sara, indeed!" she said. "The child has been pampered as
+if she were a _queen_."
+
+She was sweeping angrily past the corner table as she said it, and the
+next moment she started at the sound of a loud, sobbing sniff which
+issued from under the cover.
+
+"What is that!" she exclaimed angrily. The loud, sobbing sniff was heard
+again, and she stooped and raised the hanging folds of the table-cover.
+
+"How _dare_ you!" she cried out. "How _dare_ you! Come out immediately!"
+
+It was poor Becky who crawled out, and her cap was knocked on one side,
+and her face was red with repressed crying.
+
+"If you please, 'm--it's me, mum," she explained. "I know I hadn't ought
+to. But I was lookin' at the doll, mum--an' I was frightened when you
+come in--an' slipped under the table."
+
+"You have been there all the time, listening," said Miss Minchin.
+
+"No, mum," Becky protested, bobbing courtesies. "Not listenin'--I
+thought I could slip out without your noticin', but I couldn't an' I had
+to stay. But I didn't listen, mum--I wouldn't for nothin'. But I
+couldn't help hearin'."
+
+Suddenly it seemed almost as if she lost all fear of the awful lady
+before her. She burst into fresh tears.
+
+"Oh, please, 'm," she said; "I dare say you'll give me warnin',
+mum,--but I'm so sorry for poor Miss Sara--I'm so sorry!"
+
+"Leave the room!" ordered Miss Minchin.
+
+Becky courtesied again, the tears openly streaming down her cheeks.
+
+"Yes, 'm; I will, 'm," she said, trembling; "but oh, I just wanted to
+arst you: Miss Sara--she's been such a rich young lady, an' she's been
+waited on, 'and and foot; an' what will she do now, mum, without no
+maid? If--if, oh please, would you let me wait on her after I've done my
+pots an' kettles? I'd do 'em that quick--if you'd let me wait on her now
+she's poor. Oh,"--breaking out afresh,--"poor little Miss Sara,
+mum--that was called a princess."
+
+Somehow, she made Miss Minchin feel more angry than ever. That the very
+scullery-maid should range herself on the side of this child--whom she
+realized more fully than ever that she had never liked--was too much.
+She actually stamped her foot.
+
+"No--certainly not," she said. "She will wait on herself, and on other
+people, too. Leave the room this instant, or you'll leave your place."
+
+Becky threw her apron over her head and fled. She ran out of the room
+and down the steps into the scullery, and there she sat down among her
+pots and kettles, and wept as if her heart would break.
+
+"It's exactly like the ones in the stories," she wailed. "Them pore
+princess ones that was drove into the world."
+
+Miss Minchin had never looked quite so still and hard as she did when
+Sara came to her, a few hours later, in response to a message she had
+sent her.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Even by that time it seemed to Sara as if the birthday party had either
+been a dream or a thing which had happened years ago, and had happened
+in the life of quite another little girl.
+
+Every sign of the festivities had been swept away; the holly had been
+removed from the school-room walls, and the forms and desks put back
+into their places. Miss Minchin's sitting-room looked as it always
+did--all traces of the feast were gone, and Miss Minchin had resumed
+her usual dress. The pupils had been ordered to lay aside their party
+frocks; and this having been done, they had returned to the school-room
+and huddled together in groups, whispering and talking excitedly.
+
+"Tell Sara to come to my room," Miss Minchin had said to her sister.
+"And explain to her clearly that I will have no crying or unpleasant
+scenes."
+
+"Sister," replied Miss Amelia, "she is the strangest child I ever saw.
+She has actually made no fuss at all. You remember she made none when
+Captain Crewe went back to India. When I told her what had happened, she
+just stood quite still and looked at me without making a sound. Her eyes
+seemed to get bigger and bigger, and she went quite pale. When I had
+finished, she still stood staring for a few seconds, and then her
+chin began to shake, and she turned round and ran out of the room and
+up-stairs. Several of the other children began to cry, but she did not
+seem to hear them or to be alive to anything but just what I was saying.
+It made me feel quite queer not to be answered; and when you tell
+anything sudden and strange, you expect people will say
+_something_--whatever it is."
+
+Nobody but Sara herself ever knew what had happened in her room after
+she had run up-stairs and locked her door. In fact, she herself scarcely
+remembered anything but that she walked up and down, saying over and
+over again to herself in a voice which did not seem her own:
+
+"My papa is dead! My papa is dead!"
+
+Once she stopped before Emily, who sat watching her from her chair, and
+cried out wildly:
+
+"Emily! Do you hear? Do you hear--papa is dead? He is dead in
+India--thousands of miles away."
+
+When she came into Miss Minchin's sitting-room in answer to her summons,
+her face was white and her eyes had dark rings around them. Her mouth
+was set as if she did not wish it to reveal what she had suffered and
+was suffering. She did not look in the least like the rose-colored
+butterfly child who had flown about from one of her treasures to the
+other in the decorated school-room. She looked instead a strange,
+desolate, almost grotesque little figure.
+
+She had put on, without Mariette's help, the cast-aside black-velvet
+frock. It was too short and tight, and her slender legs looked long and
+thin, showing themselves from beneath the brief skirt. As she had not
+found a piece of black ribbon, her short, thick, black hair tumbled
+loosely about her face and contrasted strongly with its pallor. She held
+Emily tightly in one arm, and Emily was swathed in a piece of black
+material.
+
+"Put down your doll," said Miss Minchin. "What do you mean by bringing
+her here?"
+
+"No," Sara answered. "I will not put her down. She is all I have. My
+papa gave her to me."
+
+She had always made Miss Minchin feel secretly uncomfortable, and she
+did so now. She did not speak with rudeness so much as with a cold
+steadiness with which Miss Minchin felt it difficult to cope--perhaps
+because she knew she was doing a heartless and inhuman thing.
+
+"You will have no time for dolls in future," she said. "You will have to
+work and improve yourself and make yourself useful."
+
+Sara kept her big, strange eyes fixed on her, and said not a word.
+
+"Everything will be very different now," Miss Minchin went on. "I
+suppose Miss Amelia has explained matters to you."
+
+"Yes," answered Sara. "My papa is dead. He left me no money. I am quite
+poor."
+
+"You are a beggar," said Miss Minchin, her temper rising at the
+recollection of what all this meant. "It appears that you have no
+relations and no home, and no one to take care of you."
+
+For a moment the thin, pale little face twitched, but Sara again said
+nothing.
+
+"What are you staring at?" demanded Miss Minchin, sharply. "Are you so
+stupid that you cannot understand? 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 out of charity."
+
+"I understand," answered Sara, in a low tone; and there was a sound as
+if she had gulped down something which rose in her throat. "I
+understand."
+
+"That doll," cried Miss Minchin, pointing to the splendid birthday gift
+seated near--"that ridiculous doll, with all her nonsensical,
+extravagant things--_I_ actually paid the bill for her!"
+
+Sara turned her head toward the chair.
+
+"The Last Doll," she said. "The Last Doll." And her little mournful
+voice had an odd sound.
+
+"The Last Doll, indeed!" said Miss Minchin. "And she is mine, not yours.
+Everything you own is mine."
+
+"Please take it away from me, then," said Sara. "I do not want it."
+
+If she had cried and sobbed and seemed frightened, Miss Minchin might
+almost have had more patience with her. She was a woman who liked to
+domineer and feel her power, and as she looked at Sara's pale little
+steadfast face and heard her proud little voice, she quite felt as if
+her might was being set at naught.
+
+"Don't put on grand airs," she said. "The time for that sort of thing is
+past. You are not a princess any longer. Your carriage and your pony
+will be sent away--your maid will be dismissed. You will wear your
+oldest and plainest clothes--your extravagant ones are no longer suited
+to your station. You are like Becky--you must work for your living."
+
+To her surprise, a faint gleam of light came into the child's eyes--a
+shade of relief.
+
+"Can I work?" she said. "If I can work it will not matter so much. What
+can I do?"
+
+"You can do anything you are told," was the answer. "You are a sharp
+child, and pick up things readily. If you make yourself useful I may let
+you stay here. You speak French well, and you can help with the younger
+children."
+
+"May I?" exclaimed Sara. "Oh, please let me! I know I can teach them. I
+like them, and they like me."
+
+"Don't talk nonsense about people liking you," said Miss Minchin. "You
+will have to do more than teach the little ones. You will run errands
+and help in the kitchen as well as in the school-room. If you don't
+please me, you will be sent away. Remember that. Now go."
+
+Sara stood still just a moment, looking at her. In her young soul, she
+was thinking deep and strange things. Then she turned to leave the
+room.
+
+"Stop!" said Miss Minchin. "Don't you intend to thank me?"
+
+Sara paused, and all the deep, strange thoughts surged up in her breast.
+
+"What for?" she said.
+
+"For my kindness to you," replied Miss Minchin. "For my kindness in
+giving you a home."
+
+Sara made two or three steps toward her. Her thin little chest heaved up
+and down, and she spoke in a strange, unchildishly fierce way.
+
+"You are not kind," she said. "You are _not_ kind, and it is _not_ a
+home." And she had turned and run out of the room before Miss Minchin
+could stop her or do anything but stare after her with stony anger.
+
+She went up the stairs slowly, but panting for breath, and she held
+Emily tightly against her side.
+
+"I wish she could talk," she said to herself. "If she could speak--if
+she could speak!"
+
+She meant to go to her room and lie down on the tiger-skin, with her
+cheek upon the great cat's head, and look into the fire and think and
+think and think. But just before she reached the landing Miss Amelia
+came out of the door and closed it behind her, and stood before it,
+looking nervous and awkward. The truth was that she felt secretly
+ashamed of the thing she had been ordered to do.
+
+"You--you are not to go in there," she said.
+
+"Not go in?" exclaimed Sara, and she fell back a pace.
+
+"That is not your room now," Miss Amelia answered, reddening a little.
+
+Somehow, all at once, Sara understood. She realized that this was the
+beginning of the change Miss Minchin had spoken of.
+
+"Where is my room?" she asked, hoping very much that her voice did not
+shake.
+
+"You are to sleep in the attic next to Becky."
+
+Sara knew where it was. Becky had told her about it. She turned, and
+mounted up two flights of stairs. The last one was narrow, and covered
+with shabby strips of old carpet. She felt as if she were walking away
+and leaving far behind her the world in which that other child, who no
+longer seemed herself, had lived. This child, in her short, tight old
+frock, climbing the stairs to the attic, was quite a different creature.
+
+When she reached the attic door and opened it, her heart gave a dreary
+little thump. Then she shut the door and stood against it and looked
+about her.
+
+[Illustration: She seldom cried. She did not cry now.]
+
+Yes, this was another world. The room had a slanting roof and was
+whitewashed. The whitewash was dingy and had fallen off in places. There
+was a rusty grate, an old iron bedstead, and a hard bed covered with a
+faded coverlet. Some pieces of furniture too much worn to be used
+down-stairs had been sent up. Under the skylight in the roof, which
+showed nothing but an oblong piece of dull gray sky, there stood an old
+battered red footstool. Sara went to it and sat down. She seldom cried.
+She did not cry now. She laid 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 draperies, not saying one word, not making one
+sound.
+
+And as she sat in this silence there came a low tap at the door--such a
+low, humble one that she did not at first hear it, and, indeed, was not
+roused until the door was timidly pushed open and a poor tear-smeared
+face appeared peeping round it. It was Becky's face, and Becky had been
+crying furtively for hours and rubbing her eyes with her kitchen apron
+until she looked strange indeed.
+
+"Oh, miss," she said under her breath. "Might I--would you allow
+me--jest to come in?"
+
+Sara lifted her head and looked at her. She tried to begin a smile, and
+somehow she could not. Suddenly--and it was all through the loving
+mournfulness of Becky's streaming eyes--her face looked more like a
+child's not so much too old for her years. She held out her hand and
+gave a little sob.
+
+"Oh, Becky," she said. "I told you we were just the same--only two
+little girls--just two little girls. You see how true it is. There's no
+difference now. I'm not a princess any more."
+
+Becky ran to her and caught her hand, and hugged it to her breast,
+kneeling beside her and sobbing with love and pain.
+
+"Yes, miss, you are," she cried, and her words were all broken.
+"Whats'ever 'appens to you--whats'ever--you'd be a princess all the
+same--an' nothin' couldn't make you nothin' different."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN THE ATTIC
+
+
+The first night she spent in her attic was a thing Sara never forgot.
+During its passing, she lived through a wild, unchildlike woe of which
+she never spoke to any one about her. There was no one who would have
+understood. It was, indeed, well for her that as she lay awake in
+the darkness her mind was forcibly distracted, now and then, by the
+strangeness of her surroundings. It was, perhaps, well for her that she
+was reminded by her small body of material things. If this had not been
+so, the anguish of her young mind might have been too great for a child
+to bear. But, really, while the night was passing she scarcely knew that
+she had a body at all or remembered any other thing than one.
+
+"My papa is dead!" she kept whispering to herself. "My papa is dead!"
+
+It was not until long afterward that she realized that her bed had been
+so hard that she turned over and over in it to find a place to rest,
+that the darkness seemed more intense than any she had ever known, and
+that the wind howled over the roof among the chimneys like something
+which wailed aloud. Then there was something worse. This was certain
+scufflings and scratchings and squeakings in the walls and behind the
+skirting boards. She knew what they meant, because Becky had described
+them. They meant rats and mice who were either fighting with each other
+or playing together. Once or twice she even heard sharp-toed feet
+scurrying across the floor, and she remembered in those after days, when
+she recalled things, that when first she heard them she started up in
+bed and sat trembling, and when she lay down again covered her head with
+the bedclothes.
+
+The change in her life did not come about gradually, but was made all at
+once.
+
+"She must begin as she is to go on," Miss Minchin said to Miss Amelia.
+"She must be taught at once what she is to expect."
+
+Mariette had left the house the next morning. The glimpse Sara caught
+of her sitting-room, as she passed its open door, showed her that
+everything had been changed. Her ornaments and luxuries had been
+removed, and a bed had been placed in a corner to transform it into a
+new pupil's bedroom.
+
+When she went down to breakfast she saw that her seat at Miss Minchin's
+side was occupied by Lavinia, and Miss Minchin spoke to her coldly.
+
+"You will begin your new duties, Sara," she said, "by taking your seat
+with the younger children at a smaller table. You must keep them quiet,
+and see that they behave well and do not waste their food. You ought to
+have been down earlier. Lottie has already upset her tea."
+
+That was the beginning, and from day to day the duties given to her
+were added to. She taught the younger children French and heard their
+other lessons, and these were the least of her labors. It was found
+that she could be made use of in numberless directions. She could be
+sent on errands at any time and in all weathers. She could be told to
+do things other people neglected. The cook and the housemaids took
+their tone from Miss Minchin, and rather enjoyed ordering about the
+"young one" who had been made so much fuss over for so long. They were
+not servants of the best class, and had neither good manners nor good
+tempers, and it was frequently convenient to have at hand some one on
+whom blame could be laid.
+
+During the first month or two, Sara thought that her willingness to do
+things as well as she could, and her silence under reproof, might soften
+those who drove her so hard. In her proud little heart she wanted them
+to see that she was trying to earn her living and not accepting charity.
+But the time came when she saw that no one was softened at all; and the
+more willing she was to do as she was told, the more domineering and
+exacting careless housemaids became, and the more ready a scolding cook
+was to blame her.
+
+If she had been older, Miss Minchin would have given her the bigger
+girls to teach and saved money by dismissing an instructress; but while
+she remained and looked like a child, she could be made more useful as a
+sort of little superior errand girl and maid of all work. An ordinary
+errand boy would not have been so clever and reliable. Sara could be
+trusted with difficult commissions and complicated messages. She could
+even go and pay bills, and she combined with this the ability to dust a
+room well and to set things in order.
+
+Her own lessons became things of the past. She was taught nothing, and
+only after long and busy days spent in running here and there at
+everybody's orders was she grudgingly allowed to go into the deserted
+school-room, with a pile of old books, and study alone at night.
+
+"If I do not remind myself of the things I have learned, perhaps I may
+forget them," she said to herself. "I am almost a scullery-maid, and if
+I am a scullery-maid who knows nothing, I shall be like poor Becky. I
+wonder if I could _quite_ forget and begin to drop my _h's_ and not
+remember that Henry the Eighth had six wives."
+
+One of the most curious things in her new existence was her changed
+position among the pupils. Instead of being a sort of small royal
+personage among them, she no longer seemed to be one of their number at
+all. She was kept so constantly at work that she scarcely ever had an
+opportunity of speaking to any of them, and she could not avoid seeing
+that Miss Minchin preferred that she should live a life apart from that
+of the occupants of the school-room.
+
+"I will not have her forming intimacies and talking to the other
+children," that lady said. "Girls like a grievance, and if she begins
+to tell romantic stories about herself, she will become an ill-used
+heroine, and parents will be given a wrong impression. It is better that
+she should live a separate life--one suited to her circumstances. I am
+giving her a home, and that is more than she has any right to expect
+from me."
+
+Sara did not expect much, and was far too proud to try to continue to
+be intimate with girls who evidently felt rather awkward and uncertain
+about her. The fact was that Miss Minchin's pupils were a set of dull,
+matter-of-fact young people. They were accustomed to being rich and
+comfortable, and as Sara's frocks grew shorter and shabbier and
+queerer-looking, and it became an established fact that she wore shoes
+with holes in them and was sent out to buy groceries and carry them
+through the streets in a basket on her arm when the cook wanted them in
+a hurry, they felt rather as if, when they spoke to her, they were
+addressing an under servant.
+
+"To think that she was the girl with the diamond-mines," Lavinia
+commented. "She does look like an object. And she's queerer than ever. I
+never liked her much, but I can't bear that way she has now of looking
+at people without speaking--just as if she was finding them out."
+
+"I am," said Sara, promptly, when she heard of this. "That's what I look
+at some people for. I like to know about them. I think about them over
+afterward."
+
+The truth was that she had saved herself annoyance several times by
+keeping her eye on Lavinia, who was quite ready to make mischief, and
+would have been rather pleased to have made it for the ex-show pupil.
+
+Sara never made any mischief herself, or interfered with any one. She
+worked like a drudge; she tramped through the wet streets, carrying
+parcels and baskets; she labored with the childish inattention of
+the little ones' French lessons; as she became shabbier and more
+forlorn-looking, she was told that she had better take her meals
+down-stairs; she was treated as if she was nobody's concern, and her
+heart grew proud and sore, but she never told any one what she felt.
+
+"Soldiers don't complain," she would say between her small, shut teeth.
+"I am not going to do it; I will pretend this is part of a war."
+
+But there were hours when her child heart might almost have broken with
+loneliness but for three people.
+
+The first, it must be owned, was Becky--just Becky. Throughout all that
+first night spent in the garret, she had felt a vague comfort in knowing
+that on the other side of the wall in which the rats scuffled and
+squeaked there was another young human creature. And during the nights
+that followed the sense of comfort grew. They had little chance to speak
+to each other during the day. Each had her own tasks to perform, and any
+attempt at conversation would have been regarded as a tendency to loiter
+and lose time.
+
+"Don't mind me, miss," Becky whispered during the first morning, "if I
+don't say nothin' polite. Some un 'd be down on us if I did. I _means_
+'please' an' 'thank you' an' 'beg pardon,' but I dassn't to take time to
+say it."
+
+But before daybreak she used to slip into Sara's attic and button her
+dress and give her such help as she required before she went down-stairs
+to light the kitchen fire. And when night came Sara always heard the
+humble knock at her door which meant that her handmaid was ready to
+help her again if she was needed. During the first weeks of her grief
+Sara felt as if she were too stupefied to talk, so it happened that some
+time passed before they saw each other much or exchanged visits. Becky's
+heart told her that it was best that people in trouble should be left
+alone.
+
+The second of the trio of comforters was Ermengarde, but odd things
+happened before Ermengarde found her place.
+
+When Sara's mind seemed to awaken again to the life about her, she
+realized that she had forgotten that an Ermengarde lived in the world.
+The two had always been friends, but Sara had felt as if she were years
+the older. It could not be contested that Ermengarde was as dull as she
+was affectionate. She clung to Sara in a simple, helpless way; she
+brought her lessons to her that she might be helped; she listened to her
+every word and besieged her with requests for stories. But she had
+nothing interesting to say herself, and she loathed books of every
+description. She was, in fact, not a person one would remember when one
+was caught in the storm of a great trouble, and Sara forgot her.
+
+It had been all the easier to forget her because she had been suddenly
+called home for a few weeks. When she came back she did not see Sara for
+a day or two, and when she met her for the first time she encountered
+her coming down a corridor with her arms full of garments which were to
+be taken down-stairs to be mended. Sara herself had already been taught
+to mend them. She looked pale and unlike herself, and she was attired
+in the queer, outgrown frock whose shortness showed so much thin black
+leg.
+
+Ermengarde was too slow a girl to be equal to such a situation. She
+could not think of anything to say. She knew what had happened, but,
+somehow, she had never imagined Sara could look like this--so odd and
+poor and almost like a servant. It made her quite miserable, and she
+could do nothing but break into a short hysterical laugh and
+exclaim--aimlessly and as if without any meaning:
+
+"Oh, Sara! is that you?"
+
+"Yes," answered Sara, and suddenly a strange thought passed through her
+mind and made her face flush.
+
+She held the pile of garments in her arms, and her chin rested upon the
+top of it to keep it steady. Something in the look of her
+straight-gazing eyes made Ermengarde lose her wits still more. She felt
+as if Sara had changed into a new kind of girl, and she had never known
+her before. Perhaps it was because she had suddenly grown poor and had
+to mend things and work like Becky.
+
+"Oh," she stammered. "How--how are you?"
+
+"I don't know," Sara replied. "How are you?"
+
+"I'm--I'm quite well," said Ermengarde, overwhelmed with shyness.
+Then spasmodically she thought of something to say which seemed more
+intimate. "Are you--are you very unhappy?" she said in a rush.
+
+Then Sara was guilty of an injustice. Just at that moment her torn heart
+swelled within her, and she felt that if any one was as stupid as that,
+one had better get away from her.
+
+"What do you think?" she said. "Do you think I am very happy?" and she
+marched past her without another word.
+
+In course of time she realized that if her wretchedness had not made her
+forget things, she would have known that poor, dull Ermengarde was not
+to be blamed for her unready, awkward ways. She was always awkward, and
+the more she felt, the more stupid she was given to being.
+
+But the sudden thought which had flashed upon her had made her
+over-sensitive.
+
+"She is like the others," she had thought. "She does not really want to
+talk to me. She knows no one does."
+
+So for several weeks a barrier stood between them. When they met by
+chance Sara looked the other way, and Ermengarde felt too stiff and
+embarrassed to speak. Sometimes they nodded to each other in passing,
+but there were times when they did not even exchange a greeting.
+
+"If she would rather not talk to me," Sara thought, "I will keep out of
+her way. Miss Minchin makes that easy enough."
+
+Miss Minchin made it so easy that at last they scarcely saw each other
+at all. At that time it was noticed that Ermengarde was more stupid than
+ever, and that she looked listless and unhappy. She used to sit in the
+window-seat, huddled in a heap, and stare out of the window without
+speaking. Once Jessie, who was passing, stopped to look at her
+curiously.
+
+"What are you crying for, Ermengarde?" she asked.
+
+"I'm not crying," answered Ermengarde, in a muffled, unsteady voice.
+
+"You are," said Jessie. "A great big tear just rolled down the bridge of
+your nose and dropped off at the end of it. And there goes another."
+
+"Well," said Ermengarde, "I'm miserable--and no one need interfere." And
+she turned her plump back and took out her handkerchief and boldly hid
+her face in it.
+
+That night, when Sara went to her attic, she was later than usual. She
+had been kept at work until after the hour at which the pupils went to
+bed, and after that she had gone to her lessons in the lonely
+school-room. When she reached the top of the stairs, she was surprised
+to see a glimmer of light coming from under the attic door.
+
+"Nobody goes there but myself," she thought quickly; "but some one has
+lighted a candle."
+
+Some one had, indeed, lighted a candle, and it was not burning in
+the kitchen candlestick she was expected to use, but in one of those
+belonging to the pupils' bedrooms. The some one was sitting upon the
+battered footstool, and was dressed in her night-gown and wrapped up in
+a red shawl. It was Ermengarde.
+
+"Ermengarde!" cried Sara. She was so startled that she was almost
+frightened. "You will get into trouble."
+
+Ermengarde stumbled up from her footstool. She shuffled across the attic
+in her bedroom slippers, which were too large for her. Her eyes and nose
+were pink with crying.
+
+"I know I shall--if I'm found out," she said. "But I don't care--I
+don't care a bit. Oh, Sara, please tell me. What _is_ the matter? Why
+don't you like me any more?"
+
+Something in her voice made the familiar lump rise in Sara's throat. It
+was so affectionate and simple--so like the old Ermengarde who had asked
+her to be "best friends." It sounded as if she had not meant what she
+had seemed to mean during these past weeks.
+
+"I do like you," Sara answered. "I thought--you see, everything is
+different now. I thought you--were different."
+
+Ermengarde opened her wet eyes wide.
+
+"Why, it was you who were different!" she cried. "You didn't want to
+talk to me. I didn't know what to do. It was you who were different
+after I came back."
+
+Sara thought a moment. She saw she had made a mistake.
+
+"I _am_ different," she explained, "though not in the way you think.
+Miss Minchin does not want me to talk to the girls. Most of them don't
+want to talk to me. I thought--perhaps--you didn't. So I tried to keep
+out of your way."
+
+"Oh, Sara," Ermengarde almost wailed in her reproachful dismay. And
+then after one more look they rushed into each other's arms. It must
+be confessed that Sara's small black head lay for some minutes on the
+shoulder covered by the red shawl. When Ermengarde had seemed to desert
+her, she had felt horribly lonely.
+
+Afterward they sat down upon the floor together, Sara clasping her knees
+with her arms, and Ermengarde rolled up in her shawl. Ermengarde looked
+at the odd, big-eyed little face adoringly.
+
+"I couldn't bear it any more," she said. "I dare say you could live
+without me, Sara; but I couldn't live without you. I was nearly _dead_.
+So to-night, when I was crying under the bedclothes, I thought all at
+once of creeping up here and just begging you to let us be friends
+again."
+
+"You are nicer than I am," said Sara. "I was too proud to try and make
+friends. You see, now that trials have come, they have shown that I am
+_not_ a nice child. I was afraid they would. Perhaps"--wrinkling her
+forehead wisely--"that is what they were sent for."
+
+"I don't see any good in them," said Ermengarde, stoutly.
+
+"Neither do I--to speak the truth," admitted Sara, frankly. "But I
+suppose there _might_ be good in things, even if we don't see it. There
+_might_"--doubtfully--"be good in Miss Minchin."
+
+Ermengarde looked round the attic with a rather fearsome curiosity.
+
+"Sara," she said, "do you think you can bear living here?"
+
+Sara looked round also.
+
+"If I pretend it's quite different, I can," she answered; "or if I
+pretend it is a place in a story."
+
+She spoke slowly. Her imagination was beginning to work for her. It had
+not worked for her at all since her troubles had come upon her. She had
+felt as if it had been stunned.
+
+"Other people have lived in worse places. Think of the Count of Monte
+Cristo in the dungeons of the Chateau d'If. And think of the people in
+the Bastille!"
+
+"The Bastille," half whispered Ermengarde, watching her and beginning
+to be fascinated. She remembered stories of the French Revolution which
+Sara had been able to fix in her mind by her dramatic relation of them.
+No one but Sara could have done it.
+
+A well-known glow came into Sara's eyes.
+
+"Yes," she said, hugging her knees. "That will be a good place to
+pretend about. I am a prisoner in the Bastille. I have been here for
+years and years--and years; and everybody has forgotten about me. Miss
+Minchin is the jailer--and Becky"--a sudden light adding itself to the
+glow in her eyes--"Becky is the prisoner in the next cell."
+
+She turned to Ermengarde, looking quite like the old Sara.
+
+"I shall pretend that," she said; "and it will be a great comfort."
+
+Ermengarde was at once enraptured and awed.
+
+"And will you tell me all about it?" she said. "May I creep up here at
+night, whenever it is safe, and hear the things you have made up in the
+day? It will seem as if we were more 'best friends' than ever."
+
+"Yes," answered Sara, nodding. "Adversity tries people, and mine has
+tried you and proved how nice you are."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MELCHISEDEC
+
+
+The third person in the trio was Lottie. She was a small thing and did
+not know what adversity meant, and was much bewildered by the alteration
+she saw in her young adopted mother. She had heard it rumored that
+strange things had happened to Sara, but she could not understand why
+she looked different--why she wore an old black frock and came into the
+school-room only to teach instead of to sit in her place of honor and
+learn lessons herself. There had been much whispering among the little
+ones when it had been discovered that Sara no longer lived in the rooms
+in which Emily had so long sat in state. Lottie's chief difficulty
+was that Sara said so little when one asked her questions. At seven
+mysteries must be made very clear if one is to understand them.
+
+"Are you very poor now, Sara?" she had asked confidentially the first
+morning her friend took charge of the small French class. "Are you as
+poor as a beggar?" She thrust a fat hand into the slim one and opened
+round, tearful eyes. "I don't want you to be as poor as a beggar."
+
+She looked as if she was going to cry, and Sara hurriedly consoled her.
+
+"Beggars have nowhere to live," she said courageously. "I have a place
+to live in."
+
+"Where do you live?" persisted Lottie. "The new girl sleeps in your
+room, and it isn't pretty any more."
+
+"I live in another room," said Sara.
+
+"Is it a nice one?" inquired Lottie. "I want to go and see it."
+
+"You must not talk," said Sara. "Miss Minchin is looking at us. She will
+be angry with me for letting you whisper."
+
+She had found out already that she was to be held accountable for
+everything which was objected to. If the children were not attentive, if
+they talked, if they were restless, it was she who would be reproved.
+
+But Lottie was a determined little person. If Sara would not tell her
+where she lived, she would find out in some other way. She talked to
+her small companions and hung about the elder girls and listened when
+they were gossiping; and acting upon certain information they had
+unconsciously let drop, she started late one afternoon on a voyage of
+discovery, climbing stairs she had never known the existence of, until
+she reached the attic floor. There she found two doors near each
+other, and opening one, she saw her beloved Sara standing upon an old
+table and looking out of a window.
+
+"Sara!" she cried, aghast. "Mamma Sara!" She was aghast because the
+attic was so bare and ugly and seemed so far away from all the world.
+Her short legs had seemed to have been mounting hundreds of stairs.
+
+Sara turned round at the sound of her voice. It was her turn to be
+aghast. What would happen now? If Lottie began to cry and any one
+chanced to hear, they were both lost. She jumped down from her table
+and ran to the child.
+
+"Don't cry and make a noise," she implored. "I shall be scolded if you
+do, and I have been scolded all day. It's--it's not such a bad room,
+Lottie."
+
+"Isn't it?" gasped Lottie, and as she looked round it she bit her lip.
+She was a spoiled child yet, but she was fond enough of her adopted
+parent to make an effort to control herself for her sake. Then, somehow,
+it was quite possible that any place in which Sara lived might turn out
+to be nice. "Why isn't it, Sara?" she almost whispered.
+
+Sara hugged her close and tried to laugh. There was a sort of comfort in
+the warmth of the plump, childish body. She had had a hard day and had
+been staring out of the windows with hot eyes.
+
+"You can see all sorts of things you can't see down-stairs," she said.
+
+"What sort of things?" demanded Lottie, with that curiosity Sara could
+always awaken even in bigger girls.
+
+"Chimneys--quite close to us--with smoke curling up in wreaths and
+clouds and going up into the sky,--and sparrows hopping about and
+talking to each other just as if they were people,--and other attic
+windows where heads may pop out any minute and you can wonder who they
+belong to. And it all feels as high up--as if it was another world."
+
+
+"Oh, let me see it!" cried Lottie. "Lift me up!"
+
+Sara lifted her up, and they stood on the old table together and leaned
+on the edge of the flat window in the roof, and looked out.
+
+[Illustration: The sparrows twittered and hopped about quite without
+fear.]
+
+Any one who has not done this does not know what a different world they
+saw. The slates spread out on either side of them and slanted down into
+the rain gutter-pipes. The sparrows, being at home there, twittered and
+hopped about quite without fear. Two of them perched on the chimney-top
+nearest and quarrelled with each other fiercely until one pecked the
+other and drove him away. The garret window next to theirs was shut
+because the house next door was empty.
+
+"I wish some one lived there," Sara said. "It is so close that if there
+was a little girl in the attic, we could talk to each other through the
+windows and climb over to see each other, if we were not afraid of
+falling."
+
+The sky seemed so much nearer than when one saw it from the street, that
+Lottie was enchanted. From the attic window, among the chimney-pots, the
+things which were happening in the world below seemed almost unreal. One
+scarcely believed in the existence of Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia and
+the school-room, and the roll of wheels in the square seemed a sound
+belonging to another existence.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" cried Lottie, cuddling in her guarding arm. "I like this
+attic--I like it! It is nicer than down-stairs!"
+
+"Look at that sparrow," whispered Sara. "I wish I had some crumbs to
+throw to him."
+
+"I have some!" came in a little shriek from Lottie. "I have part of a
+bun in my pocket; I bought it with my penny yesterday, and I saved a
+bit."
+
+When they threw out a few crumbs the sparrow jumped and flew away to an
+adjacent chimney-top. He was evidently not accustomed to intimates in
+attics, and unexpected crumbs startled him. But when Lottie remained
+quite still and Sara chirped very softly--almost as if she were a
+sparrow herself--he saw that the thing which had alarmed him represented
+hospitality, after all. He put his head on one side, and from his perch
+on the chimney looked down at the crumbs with twinkling eyes. Lottie
+could scarcely keep still.
+
+"Will he come? Will he come?" she whispered.
+
+"His eyes look as if he would," Sara whispered back. "He is thinking and
+thinking whether he dare. Yes, he will! Yes, he is coming!"
+
+He flew down and hopped toward the crumbs, but stopped a few inches away
+from them, putting his head on one side again, as if reflecting on the
+chances that Sara and Lottie might turn out to be big cats and jump on
+him. At last his heart told him they were really nicer than they looked,
+and he hopped nearer and nearer, darted at the biggest crumb with a
+lightning peck, seized it, and carried it away to the other side of his
+chimney.
+
+"Now he _knows_," said Sara. "And he will come back for the others."
+
+He did come back, and even brought a friend, and the friend went away
+and brought a relative, and among them they made a hearty meal over
+which they twittered and chattered and exclaimed, stopping every now
+and then to put their heads on one side and examine Lottie and Sara.
+Lottie was so delighted that she quite forgot her first shocked
+impression of the attic. In fact, when she was lifted down from the
+table and returned to earthly things, as it were, Sara was able to point
+out to her many beauties in the room which she herself would not have
+suspected the existence of.
+
+"It is so little and so high above everything," she said, "that it is
+almost like a nest in a tree. The slanting ceiling is so funny. See, you
+can scarcely stand up at this end of the room; and when the morning
+begins to come I can lie in bed and look right up into the sky through
+that flat window in the roof. It is like a square patch of light. If the
+sun is going to shine, little pink clouds float about, and I feel as if
+I could touch them. And if it rains, the drops patter and patter as if
+they were saying something nice. Then if there are stars, you can lie
+and try to count how many go into the patch. It takes such a lot. And
+just look at that tiny, rusty grate in the corner. If it was polished
+and there was a fire in it, just think how nice it would be. You see,
+it's really a beautiful little room."
+
+She was walking round the small place, holding Lottie's hand and making
+gestures which described all the beauties she was making herself see.
+She quite made Lottie see them, too. Lottie could always believe in the
+things Sara made pictures of.
+
+"You see," she said, "there could be a thick, soft blue Indian rug on
+the floor; and in that corner there could be a soft little sofa, with
+cushions to curl up on; and just over it could be a shelf full of books
+so that one could reach them easily; and there could be a fur rug before
+the fire, and hangings on the wall to cover up the whitewash, and
+pictures. They would have to be little ones, but they could be
+beautiful; and there could be a lamp with a deep rose-colored shade; and
+a table in the middle, with things to have tea with; and a little fat
+copper kettle singing on the hob; and the bed could be quite different.
+It could be made soft and covered with a lovely silk coverlet. It could
+be beautiful. And perhaps we could coax the sparrows until we made such
+friends with them that they would come and peck at the window and ask to
+be let in."
+
+"Oh, Sara!" cried Lottie; "I should like to live here!"
+
+When Sara had persuaded her to go down-stairs again, and, after setting
+her in her way, had come back to her attic, she stood in the middle of
+it and looked about her. The enchantment of her imaginings for Lottie
+had died away. The bed was hard and covered with its dingy quilt. The
+whitewashed wall showed its broken patches, the floor was cold and bare,
+the grate was broken and rusty, and the battered footstool, tilted
+sideways on its injured leg, the only seat in the room. She sat down on
+it for a few minutes and let her head drop in her hands. The mere fact
+that Lottie had come and gone away again made things seem a little
+worse--just as perhaps prisoners feel a little more desolate after
+visitors come and go, leaving them behind.
+
+"It's a lonely place," she said. "Sometimes it's the loneliest place in
+the world."
+
+She was sitting in this way when her attention was attracted by a slight
+sound near her. She lifted her head to see where it came from, and
+if she had been a nervous child she would have left her seat on the
+battered footstool in a great hurry. A large rat was sitting up on his
+hind quarters and sniffing the air in an interested manner. Some of
+Lottie's crumbs had dropped upon the floor and their scent had drawn him
+out of his hole.
+
+He looked so queer and so like a gray-whiskered dwarf or gnome that Sara
+was rather fascinated. He looked at her with his bright eyes, as if he
+were asking a question. He was evidently so doubtful that one of the
+child's queer thoughts came into her mind.
+
+"I dare say it is rather hard to be a rat," she mused. "Nobody likes
+you. People jump and run away and scream out, 'Oh, a horrid rat!' I
+shouldn't like people to scream and jump and say, 'Oh, a horrid Sara!'
+the moment they saw me. And set traps for me, and pretend they were
+dinner. It's so different to be a sparrow. But nobody asked this rat if
+he wanted to be a rat when he was made. Nobody said, 'Wouldn't you
+rather be a sparrow?'"
+
+She had sat so quietly that the rat had begun to take courage. He was
+very much afraid of her, but perhaps he had a heart like the sparrow
+and it told him that she was not a thing which pounced. He was very
+hungry. He had a wife and a large family in the wall, and they had had
+frightfully bad luck for several days. He had left the children crying
+bitterly, and felt he would risk a good deal for a few crumbs, so he
+cautiously dropped upon his feet.
+
+"Come on," said Sara; "I'm not a trap. You can have them, poor thing!
+Prisoners in the Bastille used to make friends with rats. Suppose I make
+friends with you."
+
+How it is that animals understand things I do not know, but it is
+certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is a language which is
+not made of words and everything in the world understands it. Perhaps
+there is a soul hidden in everything and it can always speak, without
+even making a sound, to another soul. But whatsoever was the reason,
+the rat knew from that moment that he was safe--even though he was a
+rat. He knew that this young human being sitting on the red footstool
+would not jump up and terrify him with wild, sharp noises or throw
+heavy objects at him which, if they did not fall and crush him, would
+send him limping in his scurry back to his hole. He was really a very
+nice rat, and did not mean the least harm. When he had stood on his
+hind legs and sniffed the air, with his bright eyes fixed on Sara, he
+had hoped that she would understand this, and would not begin by
+hating him as an enemy. When the mysterious thing which speaks without
+saying any words told him that she would not, he went softly toward
+the crumbs and began to eat them. As he did it he glanced every now
+and then at Sara, just as the sparrows had done, and his expression
+was so very apologetic that it touched her heart.
+
+She sat and watched him without making any movement. One crumb was very
+much larger than the others--in fact, it could scarcely be called a
+crumb. It was evident that he wanted that piece very much, but it lay
+quite near the footstool and he was still rather timid.
+
+"I believe he wants it to carry to his family in the wall," Sara
+thought. "If I do not stir at all, perhaps he will come and get it."
+
+She scarcely allowed herself to breathe, she was so deeply interested.
+The rat shuffled a little nearer and ate a few more crumbs, then he
+stopped and sniffed delicately, giving a side glance at the occupant
+of the footstool; then he darted at the piece of bun with something
+very like the sudden boldness of the sparrow, and the instant he had
+possession of it fled back to the wall, slipped down a crack in the
+skirting board, and was gone.
+
+"I knew he wanted it for his children," said Sara. "I do believe I could
+make friends with him."
+
+A week or so afterward, on one of the rare nights when Ermengarde found
+it safe to steal up to the attic, when she tapped on the door with the
+tips of her fingers Sara did not come to her for two or three minutes.
+There was, indeed, such a silence in the room at first that Ermengarde
+wondered if she could have fallen asleep. Then, to her surprise, she
+heard her utter a little, low laugh and speak coaxingly to some one.
+
+"There!" Ermengarde heard her say. "Take it and go home, Melchisedec! Go
+home to your wife!"
+
+Almost immediately Sara opened the door, and when she did so she found
+Ermengarde standing with alarmed eyes upon the threshold.
+
+"Who--who _are_ you talking to, Sara?" she gasped out.
+
+Sara drew her in cautiously, but she looked as if something pleased and
+amused her.
+
+"You must promise not to be frightened--not to scream the least bit, or
+I can't tell you," she answered.
+
+Ermengarde felt almost inclined to scream on the spot, but managed to
+control herself. She looked all round the attic and saw no one. And yet
+Sara had certainly been speaking _to_ some one. She thought of ghosts.
+
+"Is it--something that will frighten me?" she asked timorously.
+
+"Some people are afraid of them," said Sara. "I was at first,--but I am
+not now."
+
+"Was it--a ghost?" quaked Ermengarde.
+
+"No," said Sara, laughing. "It was my rat."
+
+Ermengarde made one bound, and landed in the middle of the little dingy
+bed. She tucked her feet under her night-gown and the red shawl. She did
+not scream, but she gasped with fright.
+
+"Oh! oh!" she cried under her breath. "A rat! A rat!"
+
+"I was afraid you would be frightened," said Sara. "But you needn't be.
+I am making him tame. He actually knows me and comes out when I call
+him. Are you too frightened to want to see him?"
+
+The truth was that, as the days had gone on and, with the aid of scraps
+brought up from the kitchen, her curious friendship had developed, she
+had gradually forgotten that the timid creature she was becoming
+familiar with was a mere rat.
+
+At first Ermengarde was too much alarmed to do anything but huddle in a
+heap upon the bed and tuck up her feet, but the sight of Sara's composed
+little countenance and the story of Melchisedec's first appearance began
+at last to rouse her curiosity, and she leaned forward over the edge of
+the bed and watched Sara go and kneel down by the hole in the skirting
+board.
+
+"He--he won't run out quickly and jump on the bed, will he?" she said.
+
+"No," answered Sara. "He's as polite as we are. He is just like a
+person. Now watch!"
+
+She began to make a low, whistling sound--so low and coaxing that it
+could only have been heard in entire stillness. She did it several
+times, looking entirely absorbed in it. Ermengarde thought she looked as
+if she were working a spell. And at last, evidently in response to it, a
+gray-whiskered, bright-eyed head peeped out of the hole. Sara had some
+crumbs in her hand. She dropped them, and Melchisedec came quietly forth
+and ate them. A piece of larger size than the rest he took and carried
+in the most businesslike manner back to his home.
+
+"You see," said Sara, "that is for his wife and children. He is very
+nice. He only eats the little bits. After he goes back I can always hear
+his family squeaking for joy. There are three kinds of squeaks. One kind
+is the children's, and one is Mrs. Melchisedec's, and one is
+Melchisedec's own."
+
+Ermengarde began to laugh.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she said. "You _are_ queer,--but you are nice."
+
+"I know I am queer," admitted Sara, cheerfully; "and I _try_ to be
+nice." She rubbed her forehead with her little brown paw, and a puzzled,
+tender look came into her face. "Papa always laughed at me," she said;
+"but I liked it. He thought I was queer, but he liked me to make up
+things. I--I can't help making up things. If I didn't, I don't believe
+I could live." She paused and glanced round the attic. "I'm sure I
+couldn't live here," she added in a low voice.
+
+Ermengarde was interested, as she always was. "When you talk about
+things," she said, "they seem as if they grew real. You talk about
+Melchisedec as if he was a person."
+
+"He _is_ a person," said Sara. "He gets hungry and frightened, just as
+we do; and he is married and has children. How do we know he doesn't
+think things, just as we do? His eyes look as if he was a person. That
+was why I gave him a name."
+
+She sat down on the floor in her favorite attitude, holding her knees.
+
+"Besides," she said, "he is a Bastille rat sent to be my friend. I can
+always get a bit of bread the cook has thrown away, and it is quite
+enough to support him."
+
+"Is it the Bastille yet?" asked Ermengarde, eagerly. "Do you always
+pretend it is the Bastille?"
+
+"Nearly always," answered Sara. "Sometimes I try to pretend
+it is another kind of place; but the Bastille is generally
+easiest--particularly when it is cold."
+
+Just at that moment Ermengarde almost jumped off the bed, she was so
+startled by a sound she heard. It was like two distinct knocks on the
+wall.
+
+"What is that?" she exclaimed.
+
+Sara got up from the floor and answered quite dramatically:
+
+"It is the prisoner in the next cell."
+
+"Becky!" cried Ermengarde, enraptured.
+
+"Yes," said Sara. "Listen; the two knocks meant, 'Prisoner, are you
+there?'"
+
+She knocked three times on the wall herself, as if in answer.
+
+"That means, 'Yes, I am here, and all is well.'"
+
+Four knocks came from Becky's side of the wall.
+
+"That means," explained Sara, "'Then, fellow-sufferer, we will sleep in
+peace. Good-night.'"
+
+Ermengarde quite beamed with delight.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she whispered joyfully. "It is like a story!"
+
+"It _is_ a story," said Sara. "_Everything's_ a story. You are a
+story--I am a story. Miss Minchin is a story."
+
+And she sat down again and talked until Ermengarde forgot that she was
+a sort of escaped prisoner herself, and had to be reminded by Sara
+that she could not remain in the Bastille all night, but must steal
+noiselessly down-stairs again and creep back into her deserted bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE INDIAN GENTLEMAN
+
+
+But it was a perilous thing for Ermengarde and Lottie to make
+pilgrimages to the attic. They could never be quite sure when Sara would
+be there, and they could scarcely ever be certain that Miss Amelia would
+not make a tour of inspection through the bedrooms after the pupils were
+supposed to be asleep. So their visits were rare ones, and Sara lived a
+strange and lonely life. It was a lonelier life when she was down-stairs
+than when she was in her attic. She had no one to talk to; and when she
+was sent out on errands and walked through the streets, a forlorn little
+figure carrying a basket or a parcel, trying to hold her hat on when
+the wind was blowing, and feeling the water soak through her shoes when
+it was raining, she felt as if the crowds hurrying past her made her
+loneliness greater. When she had been the Princess Sara, driving through
+the streets in her brougham, or walking, attended by Mariette, the sight
+of her bright, eager little face and picturesque coats and hats had
+often caused people to look after her. A happy, beautifully cared
+for little girl naturally attracts attention. Shabby, poorly dressed
+children are not rare enough and pretty enough to make people turn
+around to look at them and smile. No one looked at Sara in these days,
+and no one seemed to see her as she hurried along the crowded pavements.
+She had begun to grow very fast, and, as she was dressed only in such
+clothes as the plainer remnants of her wardrobe would supply, she knew
+she looked very queer, indeed. All her valuable garments had been
+disposed of, and such as had been left for her use she was expected to
+wear so long as she could put them on at all. Sometimes, when she passed
+a shop window with a mirror in it, she almost laughed outright on
+catching a glimpse of herself, and sometimes her face went red and she
+bit her lip and turned away.
+
+In the evening, when she passed houses whose windows were lighted up,
+she used to look into the warm rooms and amuse herself by imagining
+things about the people she saw sitting before the fires or about the
+tables. It always interested her to catch glimpses of rooms before the
+shutters were closed. There were several families in the square in which
+Miss Minchin lived, with which she had become quite familiar in a way of
+her own. The one she liked best she called the Large Family. She called
+it the Large Family not because the members of it were big,--for,
+indeed, most of them were little,--but because there were so many of
+them. There were eight children in the Large Family, and a stout, rosy
+mother, and a stout, rosy father, and a stout, rosy grandmother, 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 meet their papa and kiss him and dance around him and
+drag off his overcoat and look in the pockets for packages, or they were
+crowding about the nursery windows and looking out and pushing each
+other and laughing--in fact, they were always doing something enjoyable
+and suited to the tastes of a large family. Sara was quite fond of them,
+and had given them names out of books--quite romantic names. 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 Cholmondeley Montmorency; the little boy who
+could just stagger and who had such round legs was Sydney Cecil Vivian
+Montmorency; and then came Lilian Evangeline Maud Marion, Rosalind
+Gladys, Guy Clarence, Veronica Eustacia, and Claude Harold Hector.
+
+One evening a very funny thing happened--though, perhaps, in one sense
+it was not a funny thing at all.
+
+Several of the Montmorencys were evidently going to a children's party,
+and just as Sara was about to pass the door they were crossing the
+pavement to get into the carriage which was waiting for them. Veronica
+Eustacia and Rosalind Gladys, in white-lace frocks and lovely sashes,
+had just got in, and Guy Clarence, aged five, was following them. He was
+such a pretty fellow and had such rosy cheeks and blue eyes, and such
+a darling little round head covered with curls, that Sara forgot her
+basket and shabby cloak altogether--in fact, forgot everything but that
+she wanted to look at him for a moment. So she paused and looked.
+
+It was Christmas time, and the Large Family had been hearing many
+stories about children who were poor and had no mammas and papas to
+fill their stockings and take them to the pantomime--children who
+were, in fact, cold and thinly clad and hungry. In the stories, kind
+people--sometimes little boys and girls with tender hearts--invariably
+saw the poor children and gave them money or rich gifts, or took them
+home to beautiful dinners. Guy Clarence had been affected to tears that
+very afternoon by the reading of such a story, and he had burned with
+a desire to find such a poor child and give her a certain sixpence he
+possessed, and thus provide for her for life. An entire sixpence, he was
+sure, would mean affluence for evermore. As he crossed the strip of red
+carpet laid across the pavement from the door to the carriage, he had
+this very sixpence in the pocket of his very short man-o'-war trousers.
+And just as Rosalind Gladys got into the vehicle and jumped on to
+the seat in order to feel the cushions spring under her, he saw Sara
+standing on the wet pavement in her shabby frock and hat, with her old
+basket on her arm, looking at him hungrily.
+
+He thought that her eyes looked hungry because she had perhaps had
+nothing to eat for a long time. He did not know that they looked so
+because she was hungry for the warm, merry life his home held and his
+rosy face spoke of, and that she had a hungry wish to snatch him in her
+arms and kiss him. He only knew that she had big eyes and a thin face
+and thin legs and a common basket and poor clothes. So he put his hand
+in his pocket and found his sixpence and walked up to her benignly.
+
+"Here, poor little girl," he said. "Here is a sixpence. I will give it
+to you."
+
+Sara started, and all at once realized that she looked exactly like poor
+children she had seen, in her better days, waiting on the pavement to
+watch her as she got out of her brougham. And she had given them pennies
+many a time. Her face went red and then it went pale, and for a second
+she felt as if she could not take the dear little sixpence.
+
+"Oh, no!" she said. "Oh, no, thank you; I mustn't take it, indeed!"
+
+Her voice was so unlike an ordinary street child's voice and her manner
+was so like the manner of a well-bred little person that Veronica
+Eustacia (whose real name was Janet) and Rosalind Gladys (who was really
+called Nora) leaned forward to listen.
+
+But Guy Clarence was not to be thwarted in his benevolence. He thrust
+the sixpence into her hand.
+
+"Yes, you must take it, poor little girl!" he insisted stoutly. "You can
+buy things to eat with it. It is a whole sixpence!"
+
+There was something so honest and kind in his face, and he looked so
+likely to be heartbrokenly disappointed if she did not take it, that
+Sara knew she must not refuse him. To be as proud as that would be a
+cruel thing. So she actually put her pride in her pocket, though it must
+be admitted her cheeks burned.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "You are a kind, kind little darling thing." And
+as he scrambled joyfully into the carriage she went away, trying to
+smile, though she caught her breath quickly and her eyes were shining
+through a mist. She had known that she looked odd and shabby, but until
+now she had not known that she might be taken for a beggar.
+
+As the Large Family's carriage drove away, the children inside it were
+talking with interested excitement.
+
+"Oh, Donald" (this was Guy Clarence's name), Janet exclaimed alarmedly,
+"why did you offer that little girl your sixpence? I'm sure she is not
+a beggar!"
+
+"She didn't speak like a beggar!" cried Nora; "and her face didn't
+really look like a beggar's face!"
+
+"Besides, she didn't beg," said Janet. "I was so afraid she might be
+angry with you. You know, it makes people angry to be taken for beggars
+when they are not beggars."
+
+"She wasn't angry," said Donald, a trifle dismayed, but still firm. "She
+laughed a little, and she said I was a kind, kind little darling thing.
+And I was!"--stoutly. "It was my whole sixpence."
+
+Janet and Nora exchanged glances.
+
+"A beggar girl would never have said that," decided Janet. "She would
+have said, 'Thank yer kindly, little gentleman--thank yer, sir'; and
+perhaps she would have bobbed a courtesy."
+
+Sara knew nothing about the fact, but from that time the Large Family
+was as profoundly interested in her as she was in it. Faces used to
+appear at the nursery windows when she passed, and many discussions
+concerning her were held round the fire.
+
+"She is a kind of servant at the seminary," Janet said. "I don't believe
+she belongs to anybody. I believe she is an orphan. But she is not a
+beggar, however shabby she looks."
+
+And afterward she was called by all of them,
+"The-little-girl-who-is-not-a-beggar," which was, of course, rather a
+long name, and sounded very funny sometimes when the youngest ones said
+it in a hurry.
+
+Sara managed to bore a hole in the sixpence and hung it on an old bit
+of narrow ribbon round her neck. Her affection for the Large Family
+increased--as, indeed, her affection for everything she could love
+increased. She grew fonder and fonder of Becky, and she used to look
+forward to the two mornings a week when she went into the school-room to
+give the little ones their French lesson. Her small pupils loved her,
+and strove with each other for the privilege of standing close to her
+and insinuating their small hands into hers. It fed her hungry heart to
+feel them nestling up to her. She made such friends with the sparrows
+that when she stood upon the table, put her head and shoulders out of
+the attic window, and chirped, she heard almost immediately a flutter
+of wings and answering twitters, and a little flock of dingy town birds
+appeared and alighted on the slates to talk to her and make much of the
+crumbs she scattered. With Melchisedec she had become so intimate that
+he actually brought Mrs. Melchisedec with him sometimes, and now and
+then one or two of his children. She used to talk to him, and, somehow,
+he looked quite as if he understood.
+
+There had grown in her mind rather a strange feeling about Emily, who
+always sat and looked on at everything. It arose in one of her moments
+of great desolateness. She would have liked to believe or pretend to
+believe that Emily understood and sympathized with her. She did not like
+to own to herself that her only companion could feel and hear nothing.
+She used to put her in a chair sometimes and sit opposite to her on the
+old red footstool, and stare and pretend about her until her own eyes
+would grow large with something which was almost like fear--particularly
+at night when everything was so still, when the only sound in the attic
+was the occasional sudden scurry and squeak of Melchisedec's family in
+the wall. One of her "pretends" was that Emily was a kind of good witch
+who could protect her. Sometimes, after she had stared at her until she
+was wrought up to the highest pitch of fancifulness, she would ask her
+questions and find herself _almost_ feeling as if she would presently
+answer. But she never did.
+
+"As to answering, though," said Sara, trying to console herself, "I
+don't answer very often. I never answer when I can help it. When people
+are insulting you, there is nothing so good for them as not to say a
+word--just to look at them and _think_. Miss Minchin turns pale with
+rage when I do it, Miss Amelia looks frightened, and so do the girls.
+When you will not fly into a passion people know you are stronger than
+they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage, and
+they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said
+afterward. There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold
+it in--that's stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies. I
+scarcely ever do. Perhaps Emily is more like me than I am like myself.
+Perhaps she would rather not answer her friends, even. She keeps it all
+in her heart."
+
+But though she tried to satisfy herself with these arguments, she 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, she came in wet and hungry, and was sent out again because nobody
+chose to remember that she was only a child, and that her slim legs
+might be tired and her small body 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 mood, and when she had seen the girls sneering among themselves at
+her shabbiness--then she was not always able to comfort her sore, proud,
+desolate heart with fancies when Emily merely sat upright in her old
+chair and stared.
+
+One of these nights, when she came up to the attic cold and hungry, with
+a tempest raging in her young breast, Emily's stare seemed so vacant,
+her sawdust legs and arms so inexpressive, that Sara lost all control
+over herself. There was nobody but Emily--no one in the world. And there
+she sat.
+
+"I shall die presently," she said at first.
+
+Emily simply stared.
+
+"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 the cook sent me
+for, they would not give me any supper. Some men laughed at me because
+my old shoes made me slip down in the mud. I'm covered with mud now. And
+they laughed. Do you hear?"
+
+She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent face, and suddenly a
+sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand
+and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of
+sobbing,--Sara who never cried.
+
+"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
+_doll_!"
+
+Emily lay on 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 calm,
+even dignified. Sara hid her face in her arms. The rats in the wall
+began to fight and bite each other and squeak and scramble. Melchisedec
+was chastising some of his family.
+
+Sara's sobs gradually quieted themselves. It was so unlike her to break
+down that she was surprised at herself. After a while she raised her
+face and looked at Emily, who seemed to be gazing at her round the
+side of one angle, and, somehow, by this time actually with a kind of
+glassy-eyed sympathy. Sara bent and picked her up. Remorse overtook her.
+She even smiled at herself a very little smile.
+
+"You can't help being a doll," she said with a resigned sigh, "any more
+than Lavinia and Jessie can help not having any sense. We are not all
+made alike. Perhaps you do your sawdust best." And she kissed her and
+shook her clothes straight, and put her back upon her chair.
+
+She had wished very much that some one would take the empty house next
+door. She wished it because of the attic window which was so near hers.
+It seemed as if it would be so nice to see it propped open some day and
+a head and shoulders rising out of the square aperture.
+
+"If it looked a nice head," she thought, "I might begin by saying, 'Good
+morning,' and all sorts of things might happen. But, of course, it's not
+really likely that any one but under servants would sleep there."
+
+One morning, on turning the corner of the square after a visit to the
+grocer's, the butcher's, and the baker's, she saw, to her great delight,
+that during her rather prolonged absence, a van full of furniture had
+stopped before the next house, the front doors were thrown open, and men
+in shirt sleeves were going in and out carrying heavy packages and
+pieces of furniture.
+
+"It's taken!" she said. "It really _is_ taken! Oh, I do hope a nice head
+will look out of the attic window!"
+
+She would almost have liked to join the group of loiterers who had
+stopped on the pavement to watch the things carried in. She had an idea
+that if she could see some of the furniture she could guess something
+about the people it belonged to.
+
+"Miss Minchin's tables and chairs are just like her," she thought; "I
+remember thinking that the first minute I saw her, even though I was so
+little. I told papa afterward, and he laughed and said it was true. I am
+sure the Large Family have fat, comfortable arm-chairs and sofas, and I
+can see that their red-flowery wall-paper is exactly like them. It's
+warm and cheerful and kind-looking and happy."
+
+She was sent out for parsley to the greengrocer's later in the day, and
+when she came up the area steps her heart gave quite a quick beat of
+recognition. Several pieces of furniture had been set out of the van
+upon the pavement. There was a beautiful table of elaborately wrought
+teak-wood, and some chairs, and a screen covered with rich Oriental
+embroidery. The sight of them gave her a weird, homesick feeling. She
+had seen things so like them in India. One of the things Miss Minchin
+had taken from her was a carved teak-wood desk her father had sent her.
+
+"They are beautiful things," she said; "they look as if they ought to
+belong to a nice person. All the things look rather grand. I suppose it
+is a rich family."
+
+The vans of furniture came and were unloaded and gave place to others
+all the day. Several times it so happened that Sara had an opportunity
+of seeing things carried in. It became plain that she had been right
+in guessing that the new-comers were people of large means. All the
+furniture was rich and beautiful, and a great deal of it was Oriental.
+Wonderful rugs and draperies and ornaments were taken from the vans,
+many pictures, and books enough for a library. Among other things there
+was a superb god Buddha in a splendid shrine.
+
+"Some one in the family _must_ have been in India," Sara thought. "They
+have got used to Indian things and like them. I _am_ glad. I shall feel
+as if they were friends, even if a head never looks out of the attic
+window."
+
+When she was taking in the evening's milk for the cook (there was really
+no odd job she was not called upon to do), she saw something occur which
+made the situation more interesting than ever. The handsome, rosy man
+who was the father of the Large Family walked across the square in the
+most matter-of-fact manner, and ran up the steps of the next-door house.
+He ran up them as if he felt quite at home and expected to run up and
+down them many a time in the future. He stayed inside quite a long time,
+and several times came out and gave directions to the workmen, as if he
+had a right to do so. It was quite certain that he was in some intimate
+way connected with the new-comers and was acting for them.
+
+"If the new people have children," Sara speculated, "the Large Family
+children will be sure to come and play with them, and they _might_ come
+up into the attic just for fun."
+
+At night, after her work was done, Becky came in to see her
+fellow-prisoner and bring her news.
+
+"It's a' Nindian gentleman that's comin' to live next door, miss," she
+said. "I don't know whether he's a black gentleman or not, but he's a
+Nindian one. He's very rich, an' he's ill, an' the gentleman of the
+Large Family is his lawyer. He's had a lot of trouble, an' it's made him
+ill an' low in his mind. He worships idols, miss. He's an 'eathen an'
+bows down to wood an' stone. I seen a' idol bein' carried in for him to
+worship. Somebody had oughter send him a trac'. You can get a trac' for
+a penny."
+
+Sara laughed a little.
+
+"I don't believe he worships that idol," she said; "some people like to
+keep them to look at because they are interesting. My papa had a
+beautiful one, and he did not worship it."
+
+But Becky was rather inclined to prefer to believe that the new neighbor
+was "an 'eathen." It sounded so much more romantic than that he should
+merely be the ordinary kind of gentleman who went to church with a
+prayer-book. She sat and talked long that night of what he would be
+like, of what his wife would be like if he had one, and of what his
+children would be like if they had children. Sara saw that privately she
+could not help hoping very much that they would all be black, and would
+wear turbans, and, above all, that--like their parent--they would all be
+"'eathens."
+
+"I never lived next door to no 'eathens, miss," she said; "I should like
+to see what sort o' ways they'd have."
+
+It was several weeks before her curiosity was satisfied, and then it was
+revealed that the new occupant had neither wife nor children. He was a
+solitary man with no family at all, and it was evident that he was
+shattered in health and unhappy in mind.
+
+A carriage drove up one day and stopped before the house. When the
+footman dismounted from the box and opened the door the gentleman who
+was the father of the Large Family got out first. After him there
+descended a nurse in uniform, then came down the steps two men-servants.
+They came to assist their master, who, when he was helped out of the
+carriage, proved to be a man with a haggard, distressed face, and a
+skeleton body wrapped in furs. He was carried up the steps, and the
+head of the Large Family went with him, looking very anxious. Shortly
+afterward a doctor's carriage arrived, and the doctor went in--plainly
+to take care of him.
+
+"There is such a yellow gentleman next door, Sara," Lottie whispered at
+the French class afterward. "Do you think he is a Chinee? The geography
+says the Chinee men are yellow."
+
+"No, he is not Chinese," Sara whispered back; "he is very ill. Go on
+with your exercise, Lottie. '_Non, monsieur. Je n'ai pas le canif de mon
+oncle._'"
+
+That was the beginning of the story of the Indian gentleman.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+RAM DASS
+
+
+There were fine sunsets even in the square, sometimes. One could only
+see parts of them, however, between the chimneys and over the roofs.
+From the kitchen windows one could not see them at all, and could only
+guess that they were going on because the bricks looked warm and the air
+rosy or yellow for a while, or perhaps one saw a blazing glow strike a
+particular pane of glass somewhere. There was, however, one place from
+which one could see all the splendor of them: the piles of red or gold
+clouds in the west; or the purple ones edged with dazzling brightness;
+or the little fleecy, floating ones, tinged with rose-color and looking
+like flights of pink doves scurrying across the blue in a great hurry if
+there was a wind. The place where one could see all this, and seem at
+the same time to breathe a purer air, was, of course, the attic window.
+When the square suddenly seemed to begin to glow in an enchanted way
+and look wonderful in spite of its sooty trees and railings, Sara knew
+something was going on in the sky; and when it was at all possible to
+leave the kitchen without being missed or called back, she invariably
+stole away and crept up the flights of stairs, and, climbing on the old
+table, got her head and body as far out of the window as possible. When
+she had accomplished this, she always drew a long breath and looked all
+round her. It used to seem as if she had all the sky and the world to
+herself. No one else ever looked out of the other attics. Generally the
+skylights were closed; but even if they were propped open to admit air,
+no one seemed to come near them. And there Sara would stand, sometimes
+turning her face upward to the blue which seemed so friendly and
+near,--just like a lovely vaulted ceiling,--sometimes watching the west
+and all the wonderful things that happened there: the clouds melting or
+drifting or waiting softly to be changed pink or crimson or snow-white
+or purple or pale dove-gray. Sometimes they made islands or great
+mountains enclosing lakes of deep turquoise-blue, or liquid amber, or
+chrysoprase-green; sometimes dark headlands jutted into strange, lost
+seas; sometimes slender strips of wonderful lands joined other wonderful
+lands together. There were places where it seemed that one could run or
+climb or stand and wait to see what next was coming--until, perhaps, as
+it all melted, one could float away. At least it seemed so to Sara, and
+nothing had ever been quite so beautiful to her as the things she saw as
+she stood on the table--her body half out of the skylight--the sparrows
+twittering with sunset softness on the slates. The sparrows always
+seemed to her to twitter with a sort of subdued softness just when these
+marvels were going on.
+
+There was such a sunset as this a few days after the Indian gentleman
+was brought to his new home; and, as it fortunately happened that the
+afternoon's work was done in the kitchen and nobody had ordered her to
+go anywhere or perform any task, Sara found it easier than usual to slip
+away and go up-stairs.
+
+She mounted her table and stood looking out. It was a wonderful moment.
+There were floods of molten gold covering the west, as if a glorious
+tide was sweeping over the world. A deep, rich yellow light filled the
+air; the birds flying across the tops of the houses showed quite black
+against it.
+
+"It's a Splendid one," said Sara, softly, to herself. "It makes me feel
+almost afraid--as if something strange was just going to happen. The
+Splendid ones always make me feel like that."
+
+She suddenly turned her head because she heard a sound a few yards away
+from her. It was an odd sound like a queer little squeaky chattering. It
+came from the window of the next attic. Some one had come to look at the
+sunset as she had. There was a head and part of a body emerging from
+the skylight, but it was not the head or body of a little girl or a
+housemaid; it was the picturesque white-swathed form and dark-faced,
+gleaming-eyed, white-turbaned head of a native Indian man-servant,--"a
+Lascar," Sara said to herself quickly,--and the sound she had heard came
+from a small monkey he held in his arms as if he were fond of it, and
+which was snuggling and chattering against his breast.
+
+As Sara looked toward him he looked toward her. The first thing she
+thought was that his dark face looked sorrowful and homesick. She felt
+absolutely sure he had come up to look at the sun, because he had seen
+it so seldom in England that he longed for a sight of it. She looked at
+him interestedly for a second, and then smiled across the slates. She
+had learned to know how comforting a smile, even from a stranger, may
+be.
+
+Hers was evidently a pleasure to him. His whole expression altered, and
+he showed such gleaming white teeth as he smiled back that it was as if
+a light had been illuminated in his dusky face. The friendly look in
+Sara's eyes was always very effective when people felt tired or dull.
+
+It was perhaps in making his salute to her that he loosened his hold on
+the monkey. He was an impish monkey and always ready for adventure, and
+it is probable that the sight of a little girl excited him. He suddenly
+broke loose, jumped on to the slates, ran across them chattering, and
+actually leaped on to Sara's shoulder, and from there down into her
+attic room. It made her laugh and delighted her; but she knew he must be
+restored to his master,--if the Lascar was his master,--and she wondered
+how this was to be done. Would he let her catch him, or would he be
+naughty and refuse to be caught, and perhaps get away and run off over
+the roofs and be lost? That would not do at all. Perhaps he belonged to
+the Indian gentleman, and the poor man was fond of him.
+
+She turned to the Lascar, feeling glad that she remembered still some of
+the Hindustani she had learned when she lived with her father. She
+could make the man understand. She spoke to him in the language he knew.
+
+"Will he let me catch him?" she asked.
+
+She thought she had never seen more surprise and delight than the dark
+face expressed when she spoke in the familiar tongue. The truth was that
+the poor fellow felt as if his gods had intervened, and the kind little
+voice came from heaven itself. At once Sara saw that he had been
+accustomed to European children. He poured forth a flood of respectful
+thanks. He was the servant of Missee Sahib. The monkey was a good monkey
+and would not bite; but, unfortunately, he was difficult to catch.
+He would flee from one spot to another, like the lightning. He was
+disobedient, though not evil. Ram Dass knew him as if he were his child,
+and Ram Dass he would sometimes obey, but not always. If Missee Sahib
+would permit Ram Dass, he himself could cross the roof to her room,
+enter the windows, and regain the unworthy little animal. But he was
+evidently afraid Sara might think he was taking a great liberty and
+perhaps would not let him come.
+
+But Sara gave him leave at once.
+
+"Can you get across?" she inquired.
+
+"In a moment," he answered her.
+
+"Then come," she said; "he is flying from side to side of the room as if
+he was frightened."
+
+Ram Dass slipped through his attic window and crossed to hers as
+steadily and lightly as if he had walked on roofs all his life. He
+slipped through the skylight and dropped upon his feet without a sound.
+Then he turned to Sara and salaamed again. The monkey saw him and
+uttered a little scream. Ram Dass hastily took the precaution of
+shutting the skylight, and then went in chase of him. It was not a very
+long chase. The monkey prolonged it a few minutes evidently for the mere
+fun of it, but presently he sprang chattering on to Ram Dass's shoulder
+and sat there chattering and clinging to his neck with a weird little
+skinny arm.
+
+Ram Dass thanked Sara profoundly. She had seen that his quick native
+eyes had taken in at a glance all the bare shabbiness of the room, but
+he spoke to her as if he were speaking to the little daughter of a
+rajah, and pretended that he observed nothing. He did not presume to
+remain more than a few moments after he had caught the monkey, and those
+moments were given to further deep and grateful obeisance to her in
+return for her indulgence. This little evil one, he said, stroking the
+monkey, was, in truth, not so evil as he seemed, and his master, who was
+ill, was sometimes amused by him. He would have been made sad if his
+favorite had run away and been lost. Then he salaamed once more and got
+through the skylight and across the slates again with as much agility as
+the monkey himself had displayed.
+
+When he had gone Sara stood in the middle of her attic and thought of
+many things his face and his manner had brought back to her. The sight
+of his native costume and the profound reverence of his manner stirred
+all her past memories. It seemed a strange thing to remember that
+she--the drudge whom the cook had said insulting things to an hour
+ago--had only a few years ago been surrounded by people who all treated
+her as Ram Dass had treated her; who salaamed when she went by, whose
+foreheads almost touched the ground when she spoke to them, who were her
+servants and her slaves. It was like a sort of dream. It was all over,
+and it could never come back. It certainly seemed that there was no
+way in which any change could take place. She knew what Miss Minchin
+intended that her future should be. So long as she was too young to be
+used as a regular teacher, she would be used as an errand girl and
+servant and yet expected to remember what she had learned and in some
+mysterious way to learn more. The greater number of her evenings she was
+supposed to spend at study, and at various indefinite intervals she was
+examined and knew she would have been severely admonished if she had
+not advanced as was expected of her. The truth, indeed, was that Miss
+Minchin knew that she was too anxious to learn to require teachers. Give
+her books, and she would devour them and end by knowing them by heart.
+She might be trusted to be equal to teaching a good deal in the course
+of a few years. This was what would happen: when she was older she would
+be expected to drudge in the school-room as she drudged now in various
+parts of the house; they would be obliged to give her more respectable
+clothes, but they would be sure to be plain and ugly and to make her
+look somehow like a servant. That was all there seemed to be to look
+forward to, and Sara stood quite still for several minutes and thought
+it over.
+
+Then a thought came back to her which made the color rise in her cheek
+and a spark light itself in her eyes. She straightened her thin little
+body and lifted her head.
+
+"Whatever comes," she said, "cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess
+in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be
+a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but 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 Widow Capet. She was a great deal more like a queen then
+than when she was so gay and everything was so 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."
+
+This was not a new thought, but quite an old one, by this time. It had
+consoled her through many a bitter day, and she had gone about the house
+with an expression in her face which Miss Minchin could not understand
+and which was a source of great annoyance to her, as it seemed as if the
+child were mentally living a life which held her above the rest of the
+world. It was as if she scarcely heard the rude and acid things said to
+her; or, if she heard them, did not care for them at all. Sometimes,
+when she was in the midst of some harsh, domineering speech, Miss
+Minchin would find the still, 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:
+
+"You don't know that you are saying these things to a princess, and
+that if I chose I could wave my hand and order you to execution. I only
+spare you because I _am_ a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, unkind,
+vulgar old thing, and don't know any better."
+
+This used to interest and amuse her more than anything else; and queer
+and fanciful as it was, she found comfort in it and it was a good thing
+for her. While the thought held possession of her, she could not be made
+rude and malicious by the rudeness and malice of those about her.
+
+"A princess must be polite," she said to herself.
+
+And so when the servants, taking their tone from their mistress, were
+insolent and ordered her about, she would hold her head erect and reply
+to them with a quaint civility which often made them stare at her.
+
+"She's got more airs and graces than if she come from Buckingham Palace,
+that young one," said the cook, chuckling a little sometimes; "I lose
+my temper with her often enough, but I will say she never forgets her
+manners. 'If you please, cook;' 'Will you be so kind, cook?' 'I beg your
+pardon, cook;' 'May I trouble you, cook?' She drops 'em about the
+kitchen as if they was nothing."
+
+The morning after the interview with Ram Dass and his monkey, Sara was
+in the school-room with her small pupils. Having finished giving them
+their lessons, she was putting the French exercise-books together and
+thinking, as she did it, of the various things royal personages in
+disguise were called upon to do: Alfred the Great, for instance, burning
+the cakes and getting his ears boxed by the wife of the neatherd. How
+frightened she must have been when she found out what she had done. If
+Miss Minchin should find out that she--Sara, whose toes were almost
+sticking out of her boots--was a princess--a real one! The look in her
+eyes was exactly the look which Miss Minchin most disliked. She would
+not have it; she was quite near her and was so enraged that she actually
+flew at her and boxed her ears--exactly as the neatherd's wife had boxed
+King Alfred's. It made Sara start. She wakened from her dream at the
+shock, and, catching her breath, stood still a second. Then, not knowing
+she was going to do it, she broke into a little laugh.
+
+"What are you laughing at, you bold, impudent child?" Miss Minchin
+exclaimed.
+
+It took Sara a few seconds to control herself sufficiently to remember
+that she was a princess. Her cheeks were red and smarting from the blows
+she had received.
+
+"I was thinking," she answered.
+
+"Beg my pardon immediately," said Miss Minchin.
+
+Sara hesitated a second before she replied.
+
+"I will beg your pardon for laughing, if it was rude," she said then;
+"but I won't beg your pardon for thinking."
+
+"What were you thinking?" demanded Miss Minchin. "How dare you think?
+What were you thinking?"
+
+Jessie tittered, and she and Lavinia nudged each other in unison. All
+the girls looked up from their books to listen. Really, it always
+interested them a little when Miss Minchin attacked Sara. Sara always
+said something queer, and never seemed the least bit frightened. She
+was not in the least frightened now, though her boxed ears were scarlet
+and her eyes were as bright as stars.
+
+"I was thinking," she answered grandly and politely, "that you did not
+know what you were doing."
+
+"That I did not know what I was doing?" Miss Minchin fairly gasped.
+
+"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--"
+
+She had the imagined future so clearly before her eyes that she spoke in
+a manner which had an effect even upon Miss Minchin. It almost seemed
+for the moment to her narrow, unimaginative mind that there must be some
+real power hidden behind this candid daring.
+
+"What?" she exclaimed. "Found out what?"
+
+"That I really was a princess," said Sara, "and could do
+anything--anything I liked."
+
+Every pair of eyes in the room widened to its full limit. Lavinia leaned
+forward on her seat to look.
+
+"Go to your room," cried Miss Minchin, breathlessly, "this instant!
+Leave the school-room! Attend to your lessons, young ladies!"
+
+Sara made a little bow.
+
+"Excuse me for laughing if it was impolite," she said, and walked out of
+the room, leaving Miss Minchin struggling with her rage, and the girls
+whispering over their books.
+
+"Did you see her? Did you see how queer she looked?" Jessie broke out.
+"I shouldn't be at all surprised if she did turn out to be something.
+Suppose she should!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL
+
+
+When one lives in a row of houses, it is interesting to think of the
+things which are being done and said on the other side of the wall of
+the very rooms one is living in. Sara was fond of amusing herself by
+trying to imagine the things hidden by the wall which divided the
+Select Seminary from the Indian gentleman's house. She knew that the
+school-room was next to the Indian gentleman's study, and she hoped that
+the wall was thick so that the noise made sometimes after lesson hours
+would not disturb him.
+
+"I am growing quite fond of him," she said to Ermengarde; "I should not
+like him to be disturbed. I have adopted him for a friend. You can do
+that with people you never speak to at all. You can just watch them,
+and think about them and be sorry for them, until they seem almost like
+relations. I'm quite anxious sometimes when I see the doctor call twice
+a day."
+
+"I have very few relations," said Ermengarde, reflectively, "and I'm
+very glad of it. I don't like those I have. My two aunts are always
+saying, 'Dear me, Ermengarde! You are very fat. You shouldn't eat
+sweets,' and my uncle is always asking me things like, 'When did Edward
+the Third ascend the throne?' and, 'Who died of a surfeit of lampreys?'"
+
+Sara laughed.
+
+"People you never speak to can't ask you questions like that," she said;
+"and I'm sure the Indian gentleman wouldn't even if he was quite
+intimate with you. I am fond of him."
+
+She had become fond of the Large Family because they looked happy; but
+she had become fond of the Indian gentleman because he looked unhappy.
+He had evidently not fully recovered from some very severe illness. In
+the kitchen--where, of course, the servants, through some mysterious
+means, knew everything--there was much discussion of his case. He was
+not an Indian gentleman really, but an Englishman who had lived in
+India. He had met with great misfortunes which had for a time so
+imperilled his whole fortune that he had thought himself ruined and
+disgraced forever. The shock had been so great that he had almost died
+of brain-fever; and ever since he had been shattered in health, though
+his fortunes had changed and all his possessions had been restored to
+him. His trouble and peril had been connected with mines.
+
+"And mines with diamonds in 'em!" said the cook. "No savin's of mine
+never goes into no mines--particular diamond ones"--with a side glance
+at Sara. "We all know somethin' of _them_."
+
+"He felt as my papa felt," Sara thought. "He was ill as my papa was; but
+he did not die."
+
+So her heart was more drawn to him than before. When she was sent out at
+night she used sometimes to feel quite glad, because there was always a
+chance that the curtains of the house next door might not yet be closed
+and she could look into the warm room and see her adopted friend. When
+no one was about she used sometimes to stop, and, holding to the iron
+railings, wish him good night as if he could hear her.
+
+"Perhaps you can _feel_ if you can't hear," was her fancy. "Perhaps kind
+thoughts reach people somehow, even through windows and doors and walls.
+Perhaps you feel a little warm and comforted, and don't know why, when
+I am standing here in the cold and hoping you will get well and happy
+again. I am so sorry for you," she would whisper in an intense little
+voice. "I wish you had a 'Little Missus' who could pet you as I used
+to pet papa when he had a headache. I should like to be your 'Little
+Missus' myself, poor dear! Good night--good night. God bless you!"
+
+She would go away, feeling quite comforted and a little warmer herself.
+Her sympathy was so strong that it seemed as if it _must_ reach him
+somehow as he sat alone in his arm-chair by the fire, nearly always in a
+great dressing-gown, and nearly always with his forehead resting in his
+hand as he gazed hopelessly into the fire. He looked to Sara like a man
+who had a trouble on his mind still, not merely like one whose troubles
+lay all in the past.
+
+"He always seems as if he were thinking of something that hurts him
+_now_," she said to herself; "but he has got his money back and he will
+get over his brain-fever in time, so he ought not to look like that. I
+wonder if there is something else."
+
+If there was something else,--something even servants did not hear
+of,--she could not help believing that the father of the Large Family
+knew it--the gentleman she called Mr. Montmorency. Mr. Montmorency went
+to see him often, and Mrs. Montmorency and all the little Montmorencys
+went, too, though less often. He seemed particularly fond of the two
+elder little girls--the Janet and Nora who had been so alarmed when
+their small brother Donald had given Sara his sixpence. He had, in fact,
+a very tender place in his heart for all children, and particularly for
+little girls. Janet and Nora were as fond of him as he was of them, and
+looked forward with the greatest pleasure to the afternoons when they
+were allowed to cross the square and make their well-behaved little
+visits to him. They were extremely decorous little visits because he was
+an invalid.
+
+"He is a poor thing," said Janet, "and he says we cheer him up. We try
+to cheer him up very quietly."
+
+Janet was the head of the family, and kept the rest of it in order. It
+was she who decided when it was discreet to ask the Indian gentleman to
+tell stories about India, and it was she who saw when he was tired and
+it was the time to steal quietly away and tell Ram Dass to go to him.
+They were very fond of Ram Dass. He could have told any number of
+stories if he had been able to speak anything but Hindustani. The Indian
+gentleman's real name was Mr. Carrisford, and Janet told Mr. Carrisford
+about the encounter with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. He was
+very much interested, and all the more so when he heard from Ram Dass of
+the adventure of the monkey on the roof. Ram Dass made for him a very
+clear picture of the attic and its desolateness--of the bare floor and
+broken plaster, the rusty, empty grate, and the hard, narrow bed.
+
+"Carmichael," he said to the father of the Large Family, after he had
+heard this description; "I wonder how many of the attics in this square
+are like that one, and how many wretched little servant girls sleep on
+such beds, while I toss on my down pillows, loaded and harassed by
+wealth that is, most of it--not mine."
+
+"My dear fellow," Mr. Carmichael answered cheerily, "the sooner you
+cease tormenting yourself the better it will be for you. If you
+possessed all the wealth of all the Indies, you could not set right all
+the discomforts in the world, and if you began to refurnish all the
+attics in this square, there would still remain all the attics in all
+the other squares and streets to put in order. And there you are!"
+
+Mr. Carrisford sat and bit his nails as he looked into the glowing bed
+of coals in the grate.
+
+"Do you suppose," he said slowly, after a pause--"do you think it is
+possible that the other child--the child I never cease thinking of, I
+believe--could be--could _possibly_ be reduced to any such condition as
+the poor little soul next door?"
+
+Mr. Carmichael looked at him uneasily. He knew that the worst thing the
+man could do for himself, for his reason and his health, was to begin to
+think in this particular way of this particular subject.
+
+"If the child at Madame Pascal's school in Paris was the one you are in
+search of," he answered soothingly, "she would seem to be in the hands
+of people who can afford to take care of her. They adopted her because
+she had been the favorite companion of their little daughter who died.
+They had no other children, and Madame Pascal said that they were
+extremely well-to-do Russians."
+
+"And the wretched woman actually did not know where they had taken her!"
+exclaimed Mr. Carrisford.
+
+Mr. Carmichael shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"She was a shrewd, worldly Frenchwoman, and was evidently only too glad
+to get the child so comfortably off her hands when the father's death
+left her totally unprovided for. Women of her type do not trouble
+themselves about the futures of children who might prove burdens. The
+adopted parents apparently disappeared and left no trace."
+
+"But you say '_if_' the child was the one I am in search of. You say
+'if.' We are not sure. There was a difference in the name."
+
+"Madame Pascal pronounced it as if it were Carew instead of Crewe,--but
+that might be merely a matter of pronunciation. The circumstances were
+curiously similar. An English officer in India had placed his motherless
+little girl at the school. He had died suddenly after losing his
+fortune." Mr. Carmichael paused a moment, as if a new thought had
+occurred to him. "Are you _sure_ the child was left at a school in
+Paris? Are you sure it was Paris?"
+
+"My dear fellow," broke forth Carrisford, with restless bitterness, "I
+am _sure_ of nothing. I never saw either the child or her mother. Ralph
+Crewe and I loved each other as boys, but we had not met since our
+school-days, until we met in India. I was absorbed in the magnificent
+promise of the mines. He became absorbed, too. The whole thing was so
+huge and glittering that we half lost our heads. When we met we scarcely
+spoke of anything else. I only knew that the child had been sent to
+school somewhere. I do not even remember, now, _how_ I knew it."
+
+He was beginning to be excited. He always became excited when his still
+weakened brain was stirred by memories of the catastrophes of the past.
+
+Mr. Carmichael watched him anxiously. It was necessary to ask some
+questions, but they must be put quietly and with caution.
+
+"But you had reason to think the school _was_ in Paris?"
+
+"Yes," was the answer, "because her mother was a Frenchwoman, and I had
+heard that she wished her child to be educated in Paris. It seemed only
+likely that she would be there."
+
+"Yes," Mr. Carmichael said, "it seems more than probable."
+
+The Indian gentleman leaned forward and struck the table with a long,
+wasted hand.
+
+"Carmichael," he said, "I _must_ find her. If she is alive, she is
+somewhere. If she is friendless and penniless, it is through my fault.
+How is a man to get back his nerve with a thing like that on his mind?
+This sudden change of luck at the mines has made realities of all our
+most fantastic dreams, and poor Crewe's child may be begging in the
+street!"
+
+"No, no," said Carmichael. "Try to be calm. Console yourself with the
+fact that when she is found you have a fortune to hand over to her."
+
+"Why was I not man enough to stand my ground when things looked black?"
+Carrisford groaned in petulant misery. "I believe I should have stood my
+ground if I had not been responsible for other people's money as well as
+my own. Poor Crewe had put into the scheme every penny that he owned. He
+trusted me--he _loved_ me. And he died thinking I had ruined him--I--Tom
+Carrisford, who played cricket at Eton with him. What a villain he must
+have thought me!"
+
+"Don't reproach yourself so bitterly."
+
+"I don't reproach myself because the speculation threatened to fail--I
+reproach myself for losing my courage. I ran away like a swindler and a
+thief, because I could not face my best friend and tell him I had ruined
+him and his child."
+
+The good-hearted father of the Large Family put his hand on his shoulder
+comfortingly.
+
+"You ran away because your brain had given way under the strain of
+mental torture," he said. "You were half delirious already. If you
+had not been you would have stayed and fought it out. You were in a
+hospital, strapped down in bed, raving with brain-fever, two days after
+you left the place. Remember that."
+
+Carrisford dropped his forehead in his hands.
+
+"Good God! Yes," he said. "I was driven mad with dread and horror. I had
+not slept for weeks. The night I staggered out of my house all the air
+seemed full of hideous things mocking and mouthing at me."
+
+"That is explanation enough in itself," said Mr. Carmichael. "How could
+a man on the verge of brain-fever judge sanely!"
+
+Carrisford shook his drooping head.
+
+"And when I returned to consciousness poor Crewe was dead--and buried.
+And I seemed to remember nothing. I did not remember the child for
+months and months. Even when I began to recall her existence everything
+seemed in a sort of haze."
+
+He stopped a moment and rubbed his forehead. "It sometimes seems so now
+when I try to remember. Surely I must sometime have heard Crewe speak of
+the school she was sent to. Don't you think so?"
+
+"He might not have spoken of it definitely. You never seem even to have
+heard her real name."
+
+"He used to call her by an odd pet name he had invented. He called her
+his 'Little Missus.' But the wretched mines drove everything else out
+of our heads. We talked of nothing else. If he spoke of the school, I
+forgot--I forgot. And now I shall never remember."
+
+"Come, come," said Carmichael. "We shall find her yet. We will continue
+to search for Madame Pascal's good-natured Russians. She seemed to have
+a vague idea that they lived in Moscow. We will take that as a clue. I
+will go to Moscow."
+
+"If I were able to travel, I would go with you," said Carrisford; "but I
+can only sit here wrapped in furs and stare at the fire. And when I look
+into it I seem to see Crewe's gay young face gazing back at me. He looks
+as if he were asking me a question. Sometimes I dream of him at night,
+and he always stands before me and asks the same question in words. Can
+you guess what he says, Carmichael?"
+
+Mr. Carmichael answered him in a rather low voice.
+
+"Not exactly," he said.
+
+"He always says, 'Tom, old man--Tom--where is the Little Missus?'" He
+caught at Carmichael's hand and clung to it. "I must be able to answer
+him--I must!" he said. "Help me to find her. Help me."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the other side of the wall Sara was sitting in her garret talking to
+Melchisedec, who had come out for his evening meal.
+
+"It has been hard to be a princess to-day, Melchisedec," she said. "It
+has been harder than usual. It gets harder as the weather grows colder
+and the streets get more sloppy. When Lavinia laughed at my muddy skirt
+as I passed her in the hall, I thought of something to say all in a
+flash--and I only just stopped myself in time. You can't sneer back at
+people like that--if you are a princess. But you have to bite your
+tongue to hold yourself in. I bit mine. It was a cold afternoon,
+Melchisedec. And it's a cold night."
+
+Quite suddenly she put her black head down in her arms, as she often did
+when she was alone.
+
+"Oh, papa," she whispered, "what a long time it seems since I was your
+'Little Missus'!"
+
+This was what happened that day on both sides of the wall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+ONE OF THE POPULACE
+
+
+The winter was a wretched one. There were days on which Sara tramped
+through snow when she went on her errands; there were worse days when
+the snow melted and combined itself with mud to form slush; there were
+others when the fog was so thick that the lamps in the street were
+lighted all day and London looked as it had looked the afternoon,
+several years ago, when the cab had driven through the thoroughfares
+with Sara tucked up on its seat, leaning against her father's shoulder.
+On such days the windows of the house of the Large Family always looked
+delightfully cosey and alluring, and the study in which the Indian
+gentleman sat glowed with warmth and rich color. But the attic was
+dismal beyond words. There were no longer sunsets or sunrises to look
+at, and scarcely ever any stars, it seemed to Sara. The clouds hung low
+over the skylight and were either gray or mud-color, or dropping heavy
+rain. At four o'clock in the afternoon, even when there was no special
+fog, the daylight was at an end. If it was necessary to go to her attic
+for anything, Sara was obliged to light a candle. The women in the
+kitchen were depressed, and that made them more ill-tempered than ever.
+Becky was driven like a little slave.
+
+"'T warn't for you, miss," she said hoarsely to Sara one night when she
+had crept into the attic--"'t warn't for you, an' the Bastille, an'
+bein' the prisoner in the next cell, I should die. That there does seem
+real now, doesn't it? The missus is more like the head jailer every day
+she lives. I can jest see them big keys you say she carries. The
+cook she's like one of the under-jailers. Tell me some more, please,
+miss--tell me about the subt'ranean passage we've dug under the walls."
+
+"I'll tell you something warmer," shivered Sara. "Get your coverlet and
+wrap it round you, and I'll get mine, and we will huddle close together
+on the bed, and I'll tell you about the tropical forest where the Indian
+gentleman's monkey used to live. When I see him sitting on the table
+near the window and looking out into the street with that mournful
+expression, I always feel sure he is thinking about the tropical forest
+where he used to swing by his tail from cocoanut-trees. I wonder who
+caught him, and if he left a family behind who had depended on him for
+cocoanuts."
+
+"That is warmer, miss," said Becky, gratefully; "but, someways, even the
+Bastille is sort of heatin' when you gets to tellin' about it."
+
+"That is because it makes you think of something else," said Sara,
+wrapping the coverlet round her until only her small dark face was to
+be seen looking out of it. "I've noticed this. What you have to do
+with your mind, when your body is miserable, is to make it think of
+something else."
+
+"Can you do it, miss?" faltered Becky, regarding her with admiring eyes.
+
+Sara knitted her brows a moment.
+
+"Sometimes I _can_ and sometimes I can't," she said stoutly. "But when
+I can I'm all right. And what I believe is that we always could--if
+we practised enough. I've been practising a good deal lately, and
+it's beginning to be easier than it used to be. When things are
+horrible--just horrible--I think as hard as ever I can of being a
+princess. I say to myself, 'I am a princess, and I am a fairy one, and
+because I am a fairy nothing can hurt me or make me uncomfortable.'
+You don't know how it makes you forget,"--with a laugh.
+
+She had many opportunities of making her mind think of something else,
+and many opportunities of proving to herself whether or not she was a
+princess. But one of the strongest tests she was ever put to came on a
+certain dreadful day which, she often thought afterward, would never
+quite fade out of her memory even in the years to come.
+
+For several days it had rained continuously; the streets were chilly and
+sloppy and full of dreary, cold mist; there was mud everywhere,--sticky
+London mud,--and over everything the pall of drizzle and fog. 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
+downtrodden shoes were so wet that they could not hold any more water.
+Added to this, she had been deprived of her dinner, because Miss Minchin
+had chosen to punish her. She was so cold and hungry and tired that her
+face began to have a pinched look, and now and then some kind-hearted
+person passing her in the street glanced at her with sudden sympathy.
+But she did not know that. She hurried on, trying to make her mind think
+of something else. It was really very necessary. Her way of doing it was
+to "pretend" and "suppose" with all the strength that was left in her.
+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, and as the muddy water
+squelched through her broken shoes and the wind seemed trying to drag
+her thin jacket from her, she talked to herself as she walked, though
+she did not speak aloud or even move her lips.
+
+"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 eat
+them all without stopping."
+
+Some very odd things happen in this world sometimes.
+
+It certainly was an odd thing that happened to Sara. She had to cross
+the street just when 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. It
+was actually a piece of silver--a tiny piece trodden upon by many feet,
+but still with spirit enough left to shine a little. Not quite a
+sixpence, but the next thing to it--a fourpenny piece.
+
+In one second it was in her cold little red-and-blue hand.
+
+"Oh," she gasped, "it is true! It is true!"
+
+And then, if you will believe me, she looked straight at the shop
+directly facing her. And it was a baker's shop, and a cheerful, stout,
+motherly woman with rosy cheeks was putting into the window a tray of
+delicious newly baked hot buns, fresh from the oven--large, plump, shiny
+buns, with currants in them.
+
+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.
+
+She knew 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 stream of passing people who crowded and jostled
+each other all day long.
+
+"But I'll go and ask the baker woman if she has lost anything," she said
+to herself, rather faintly. So she crossed the pavement and put her wet
+foot on the step. As she did so she saw something that made her stop.
+
+It was a little figure more forlorn even than herself--a little figure
+which was not much more than a bundle of rags, from which small, bare,
+red muddy feet peeped out, only because the rags with which their owner
+was trying to cover them were not long enough. Above the rags appeared
+a shock head of tangled hair, and a dirty face with big, hollow, hungry
+eyes.
+
+Sara knew they were hungry eyes the moment she saw them, and she felt a
+sudden sympathy.
+
+"This," she said to herself, with a little sigh, "is one of the
+populace--and she is hungrier than I am."
+
+The child--this "one of the populace"--stared up at Sara, and shuffled
+herself aside a little, so as to give her room to pass. 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."
+
+Sara clutched her little fourpenny piece and hesitated a few seconds.
+Then she spoke to her.
+
+"Are you hungry?" she asked.
+
+The child shuffled herself and her rags a little more.
+
+"Ain't I jist?" she said in a hoarse voice. "Jist ain't I?"
+
+"Haven't you had any dinner?" said Sara.
+
+"No dinner,"--more hoarsely still and with more shuffling. "Nor yet no
+bre'fast--nor yet no supper. No nothin'."
+
+"Since when?" asked Sara.
+
+"Dunno. Never got nothin' to-day--nowhere. I've axed an' axed."
+
+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.
+
+"If I'm a princess," she was saying--"if I'm a princess--when they
+were poor and driven from their thrones--they always shared--with the
+populace--if they met one poorer and hungrier than themselves. 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."
+
+"Wait a minute," she said to the beggar child.
+
+She went into the shop. It was warm and smelled deliciously. The woman
+was just going to put some more hot buns into the window.
+
+"If you please," said Sara, "have you lost fourpence--a silver
+fourpence?" And she held the forlorn little piece of money out to her.
+
+The woman looked at it and then at her--at her intense little face and
+draggled, once fine clothes.
+
+"Bless us! no," she answered. "Did you find it?"
+
+"Yes," said Sara. "In the gutter."
+
+"Keep it, then," said the woman. "It may have been there for a week, and
+goodness knows who lost it. _You_ could never find out."
+
+"I know that," said Sara, "but I thought I would ask you."
+
+"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 at the
+buns.
+
+"Four buns, if you please," said Sara. "Those at a penny each."
+
+The woman went to the window and put some in a paper bag.
+
+Sara noticed that she put in six.
+
+"I said four, if you please," she explained. "I have only fourpence."
+
+"I'll throw in two for makeweight," said the woman, with her
+good-natured look. "I dare say you can eat them sometime. Aren't
+you hungry?"
+
+A mist rose before Sara's eyes.
+
+"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.
+
+[Illustration: The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner.]
+
+The beggar girl was still huddled up in the corner of the step. She
+looked frightful in her wet and dirty rags. She was staring straight
+before her with a stupid look of suffering, 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.
+
+Sara opened the paper bag and took out one of the hot buns, which had
+already warmed her own cold hands a little.
+
+"See," she said, putting the bun in the ragged lap, "this is nice and
+hot. Eat it, and you will not feel so hungry."
+
+The child started and stared up at her, as if such sudden, amazing good
+luck almost frightened her; then she snatched up the bun and began to
+cram it into her mouth with great wolfish bites.
+
+"Oh, my! Oh, my!" Sara heard her say hoarsely, in wild delight. "_Oh,
+my!_"
+
+Sara took out three more buns and put them down.
+
+The sound in the hoarse, ravenous voice was awful.
+
+"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.
+
+The little ravening London savage was still snatching and devouring when
+she turned away. She was too ravenous to give any thanks, even if she
+had ever been taught politeness--which she had not. She was only a poor
+little wild animal.
+
+"Good-by," said Sara.
+
+When she reached the other side of the street she looked back. The child
+had a bun in each hand 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 lingering 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.
+
+At that moment the baker-woman looked out of her shop window.
+
+"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "If that young un hasn't given her buns
+to a beggar child! It wasn't because she didn't want them, either.
+Well, well, she looked hungry enough. I'd give something to know what
+she did it for."
+
+She stood behind her window for a few moments and pondered. Then her
+curiosity got the better of her. She went to the door and spoke to the
+beggar child.
+
+"Who gave you those buns?" she asked her.
+
+The child nodded her head toward Sara's vanishing figure.
+
+"What did she say?" inquired the woman.
+
+"Axed me if I was 'ungry," replied the hoarse voice.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"Said I was jist."
+
+"And then she came in and got the buns, and gave them to you, did she?"
+
+The child nodded.
+
+"How many?"
+
+"Five."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"I wish she hadn't gone so quick," she said. "I'm blest if she shouldn't
+have had a dozen." Then she turned to the child.
+
+"Are you hungry yet?" she said.
+
+"I'm allus hungry," was the answer, "but 'tain't as bad as it was."
+
+"Come in here," said the woman, and she held open the shop door.
+
+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.
+
+"Get yourself warm," said the woman, pointing to a fire in the tiny back
+room. "And look here; when you are hard up for a bit of bread, you can
+come in here and ask for it. I'm blest if I won't give it to you for
+that young one's sake."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sara found some comfort in her remaining bun. At all events, it was very
+hot, and it was better than nothing. As she walked along she broke off
+small pieces and ate them slowly to make them last longer.
+
+"Suppose it was a magic bun," she said, "and a bite was as much as a
+whole dinner. I should be overeating myself if I went on like this."
+
+It was dark when she reached the square where the Select Seminary was
+situated. The lights in the houses were all lighted. The blinds were not
+yet drawn in the windows of the room where she nearly always caught
+glimpses of members of the Large Family. Frequently at this hour she
+could see the gentleman she called Mr. Montmorency sitting in a big
+chair, with a small swarm round him, talking, laughing, perching on the
+arms of his seat or on his knees or leaning against them. This evening
+the swarm was about him, but he was not seated. On the contrary, there
+was a good deal of excitement going on. It was evident that a journey
+was to be taken, and it was Mr. Montmorency who was to take it. A
+brougham stood before the door, and a big portmanteau had been strapped
+upon it. The children were dancing about, chattering and hanging on to
+their father. The pretty rosy mother was standing near him, talking as
+if she was asking final questions. Sara paused a moment to see the
+little ones lifted up and kissed and the bigger ones bent over and
+kissed also.
+
+"I wonder if he will stay away long," she thought. "The portmanteau is
+rather big. Oh, dear, how they will miss him! I shall miss him
+myself--even though he doesn't know I am alive."
+
+When the door opened she moved away,--remembering the sixpence,--but she
+saw the traveller come out and stand against the background of the
+warmly lighted hall, the older children still hovering about him.
+
+"Will Moscow be covered with snow?" said the little girl Janet. "Will
+there be ice everywhere?"
+
+"Shall you drive in a drosky?" cried another. "Shall you see the Czar?"
+
+"I will write and tell you all about it," he answered, laughing. "And I
+will send you pictures of muzhiks and things. Run into the house. It is
+a hideous damp night. I would rather stay with you than go to Moscow.
+Good night! Good night, duckies! God bless you!" And he ran down the
+steps and jumped into the brougham.
+
+"If you find the little girl, give her our love," shouted Guy Clarence,
+jumping up and down on the door-mat.
+
+Then they went in and shut the door.
+
+"Did you see," said Janet to Nora, as they went back to the room--"the
+little-girl-who-is-not-a-beggar was passing? She looked all cold and
+wet, and I saw her turn her head over her shoulder and look at us. Mamma
+says her clothes always look as if they had been given her by some one
+who was quite rich--some one who only let her have them because they
+were too shabby to wear. The people at the school always send her out on
+errands on the horridest days and nights there are."
+
+Sara crossed the square to Miss Minchin's area steps, feeling faint and
+shaky.
+
+"I wonder who the little girl is," she thought--"the little girl he is
+going to look for."
+
+And she went down the area steps, lugging her basket and finding it very
+heavy indeed, as the father of the Large Family drove quickly on his way
+to the station to take the train which was to carry him to Moscow, where
+he was to make his best efforts to search for the lost little daughter
+of Captain Crewe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+WHAT MELCHISEDEC HEARD AND SAW
+
+
+On this very afternoon, while Sara was out, a strange thing happened in
+the attic. Only Melchisedec saw and heard it; and he was so much alarmed
+and mystified that he scuttled back to his hole and hid there, and
+really quaked and trembled as he peeped out furtively and with great
+caution to watch what was going on.
+
+The attic had been very still all the day after Sara had left it in the
+early morning. The stillness had only been broken by the pattering of
+the rain upon the slates and the skylight. Melchisedec had, in fact,
+found it rather dull; and when the rain ceased to patter and perfect
+silence reigned, he decided to come out and reconnoitre, though
+experience taught him that Sara would not return for some time. He
+had been rambling and sniffing about, and had just found a totally
+unexpected and unexplained crumb left from his last meal, when his
+attention was attracted by a sound on the roof. He stopped to listen
+with a palpitating heart. The sound suggested that something was moving
+on the roof. It was approaching the skylight; it reached the skylight.
+The skylight was being mysteriously opened. A dark face peered into the
+attic; then another face appeared behind it, and both looked in with
+signs of caution and interest. Two men were outside on the roof, and
+were making silent preparations to enter through the skylight itself.
+One was Ram Dass, and the other was a young man who was the Indian
+gentleman's secretary; but of course Melchisedec did not know this. He
+only knew that the men were invading the silence and privacy of the
+attic; and as the one with the dark face let himself down through the
+aperture with such lightness and dexterity that he did not make the
+slightest sound, Melchisedec turned tail and fled precipitately back to
+his hole. He was frightened to death. He had ceased to be timid with
+Sara, and knew she would never throw anything but crumbs, and would
+never make any sound other than the soft, low, coaxing whistling; but
+strange men were dangerous things to remain near. He lay close and flat
+near the entrance of his home, just managing to peep through the crack
+with a bright, alarmed eye. How much he understood of the talk he heard
+I am not in the least able to say; but, even if he had understood it
+all, he would probably have remained greatly mystified.
+
+The secretary, who was light and young, slipped through the skylight as
+noiselessly as Ram Dass had done; and he caught a last glimpse of
+Melchisedec's vanishing tail.
+
+"Was that a rat?" he asked Ram Dass in a whisper.
+
+"Yes; a rat, Sahib," answered Ram Dass, also whispering. "There are many
+in the walls."
+
+"Ugh!" exclaimed the young man; "it is a wonder the child is not
+terrified of them."
+
+Ram Dass made a gesture with his hands. He also smiled respectfully. He
+was in this place as the intimate exponent of Sara, though she had only
+spoken to him once.
+
+"The child is the little friend of all things, Sahib," he answered.
+"She is not as other children. I see her when she does not see me. I
+slip across the slates and look at her many nights to see that she is
+safe. I watch her from my window when she does not know I am near. She
+stands on the table there and looks out at the sky as if it spoke to
+her. The sparrows come at her call. The rat she has fed and tamed in
+her loneliness. The poor slave of the house comes to her for comfort.
+There is a little child who comes to her in secret; there is one older
+who worships her and would listen to her forever if she might. This I
+have seen when I have crept across the roof. By the mistress of the
+house--who is an evil woman--she is treated like a pariah; but she has
+the bearing of a child who is of the blood of kings!"
+
+"You seem to know a great deal about her," the secretary said.
+
+"All her life each day I know," answered Ram Dass. "Her going out I
+know, and her coming in; her sadness and her poor joys; her coldness
+and her hunger. I know when she sits alone until midnight, learning
+from her books; I know when her secret friends steal to her and she is
+happier--as children can be, even in the midst of poverty--because they
+come and she may laugh and talk with them in whispers. If she were ill
+I should know, and I would come and serve her if it might be done."
+
+"You are sure no one comes near this place but herself, and that she
+will not return and surprise us. She would be frightened if she found
+us here, and the Sahib Carrisford's plan would be spoiled."
+
+Ram Dass crossed noiselessly to the door and stood close to it.
+
+"None mount here but herself, Sahib," he said. "She has gone out with
+her basket and may be gone for hours. If I stand here I can hear any
+step before it reaches the last flight of the stairs."
+
+The secretary took a pencil and a tablet from his breast pocket.
+
+"Keep your ears open," he said; and he began to walk slowly and softly
+round the miserable little room, making rapid notes on his tablet as he
+looked at things.
+
+First he went to the narrow bed. He pressed his hand upon the mattress
+and uttered an exclamation.
+
+"As hard as a stone," he said. "That will have to be altered some day
+when she is out. A special journey can be made to bring it across. It
+cannot be done to-night." He lifted the covering and examined the one
+thin pillow.
+
+"Coverlet dingy and worn, blanket thin, sheets patched and ragged," he
+said. "What a bed for a child to sleep in--and in a house which calls
+itself respectable! There has not been a fire in that grate for many a
+day," glancing at the rusty fireplace.
+
+"Never since I have seen it," said Ram Dass. "The mistress of the house
+is not one who remembers that another than herself may be cold."
+
+The secretary was writing quickly on his tablet. He looked up from it as
+he tore off a leaf and slipped it into his breast pocket.
+
+"It is a strange way of doing the thing," he said. "Who planned it?"
+
+Ram Dass made a modestly apologetic obeisance.
+
+"It is true that the first thought was mine, Sahib," he said; "though it
+was naught but a fancy. I am fond of this child; we are both lonely. It
+is her way to relate her visions to her secret friends. Being sad one
+night, I lay close to the open skylight and listened. The vision she
+related told what this miserable room might be if it had comforts in it.
+She seemed to see it as she talked, and she grew cheered and warmed as
+she spoke. Then she came to this fancy; and the next day, the Sahib
+being ill and wretched, I told him of the thing to amuse him. It seemed
+then but a dream, but it pleased the Sahib. To hear of the child's
+doings gave him entertainment. He became interested in her and asked
+questions. At last he began to please himself with the thought of making
+her visions real things."
+
+"You think that it can be done while she sleeps? Suppose she awakened,"
+suggested the secretary; and it was evident that whatsoever the plan
+referred to was, it had caught and pleased his fancy as well as the
+Sahib Carrisford's.
+
+"I can move as if my feet were of velvet," Ram Dass replied; "and
+children sleep soundly--even the unhappy ones. I could have entered this
+room in the night many times, and without causing her to turn upon her
+pillow. If the other bearer passes to me the things through the window,
+I can do all and she will not stir. When she awakens she will think a
+magician has been here."
+
+He smiled as if his heart warmed under his white robe, and the secretary
+smiled back at him.
+
+"It will be like a story from the 'Arabian Nights,'" he said. "Only an
+Oriental could have planned it. It does not belong to London fogs."
+
+They did not remain very long, to the great relief of Melchisedec,
+who, as he probably did not comprehend their conversation, felt their
+movements and whispers ominous. The young secretary seemed interested
+in everything. He wrote down things about the floor, the fireplace, the
+broken footstool, the old table, the walls--which last he touched with
+his hand again and again, seeming much pleased when he found that a
+number of old nails had been driven in various places.
+
+"You can hang things on them," he said.
+
+Ram Dass smiled mysteriously.
+
+"Yesterday, when she was out," he said, "I entered, bringing with me
+small, sharp nails which can be pressed into the wall without blows from
+a hammer. I placed many in the plaster where I may need them. They are
+ready."
+
+The Indian gentleman's secretary stood still and looked round him as he
+thrust his tablets back into his pocket.
+
+"I think I have made notes enough; we can go now," he said. "The Sahib
+Carrisford has a warm heart. It is a thousand pities that he has not
+found the lost child."
+
+"If he should find her his strength would be restored to him," said Ram
+Dass. "His God may lead her to him yet."
+
+Then they slipped through the skylight as noiselessly as they had
+entered it. And, after he was quite sure they had gone, Melchisedec was
+greatly relieved, and in the course of a few minutes felt it safe to
+emerge from his hole again and scuffle about in the hope that even such
+alarming human beings as these might have chanced to carry crumbs in
+their pockets and drop one or two of them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE MAGIC
+
+
+When Sara had passed the house next door she had seen Ram Dass closing
+the shutters, and caught her glimpse of this room also.
+
+"It is a long time since I saw a nice place from the inside," was the
+thought which crossed her mind.
+
+There was the usual bright fire glowing in the grate, and the Indian
+gentleman was sitting before it. His head was resting in his hand, and
+he looked as lonely and unhappy as ever.
+
+"Poor man!" said Sara; "I wonder what _you_ are supposing."
+
+And this was what he was "supposing" at that very moment.
+
+"Suppose," he was thinking, "suppose--even if Carmichael traces the
+people to Moscow--the little girl they took from Madame Pascal's school
+in Paris is _not_ the one we are in search of. Suppose she proves to be
+quite a different child. What steps shall I take next?"
+
+When Sara went into the house she met Miss Minchin, who had come
+down-stairs to scold the cook.
+
+"Where have you wasted your time?" she demanded. "You have been out for
+hours."
+
+"It was so wet and muddy," Sara answered, "it was hard to walk, because
+my shoes were so bad and slipped about."
+
+"Make no excuses," said Miss Minchin, "and tell no falsehoods."
+
+Sara went in to the cook. The cook had received a severe lecture and was
+in a fearful temper as a result. She was only too rejoiced to have some
+one to vent her rage on, and Sara was a convenience, as usual.
+
+"Why didn't you stay all night?" she snapped.
+
+Sara laid her purchases on the table.
+
+"Here are the things," she said.
+
+The cook looked them over, grumbling. She was in a very savage humor
+indeed.
+
+"May I have something to eat?" Sara asked rather faintly.
+
+"Tea's over and done with," was the answer. "Did you expect me to keep
+it hot for you?"
+
+Sara stood silent for a second.
+
+"I had no dinner," she said next, and her voice was quite low. She made
+it low because she was afraid it would tremble.
+
+"There's some bread in the pantry," said the cook. "That's all you'll
+get at this time of day."
+
+Sara went and found the bread. It was old and hard and dry. The cook
+was in too vicious a humor to give her anything to eat with it. It was
+always safe and easy to vent her spite on Sara. Really, it was hard
+for the child to climb the three long flights of stairs leading to her
+attic. 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
+she was obliged to stop to rest. When she reached the top landing she
+was glad to see the glimmer of a light coming from under her door. That
+meant that Ermengarde had managed to creep up to pay her a visit. There
+was some comfort in that. It was better than to go into the room alone
+and find it empty and desolate. The mere presence of plump, comfortable
+Ermengarde, wrapped in her red shawl, would warm it a little.
+
+Yes; there Ermengarde was when she opened the door. She was sitting in
+the middle of the bed, with her feet tucked safely under her. She had
+never become intimate with Melchisedec and his family, though they
+rather fascinated her. When she found herself alone in the attic she
+always preferred to sit on the bed until Sara arrived. She had, in fact,
+on this occasion had time to become rather nervous, because Melchisedec
+had appeared and sniffed about a good deal, and once had made her utter
+a repressed squeal by sitting up on his hind legs and, while he looked
+at her, sniffing pointedly in her direction.
+
+"Oh, Sara," she cried out, "I _am_ glad you have come. Melchy _would_
+sniff about so. I tried to coax him to go back, but he wouldn't for such
+a long time. I like him, you know; but it does frighten me when he
+sniffs right at me. Do you think he ever _would_ jump?"
+
+"No," answered Sara.
+
+Ermengarde crawled forward on the bed to look at her.
+
+"You _do_ look tired, Sara," she said; "you are quite pale."
+
+"I _am_ tired," said Sara, dropping on to the lop-sided footstool. "Oh,
+there's Melchisedec, poor thing. He's come to ask for his supper."
+
+Melchisedec had come out of his hole as if he had been listening for
+her footstep. Sara was quite sure he knew it. He came forward with an
+affectionate, expectant expression as Sara put her hand in her pocket
+and turned it inside out, shaking her head.
+
+"I'm very sorry," she said. "I haven't one crumb left. Go home,
+Melchisedec, and tell your wife there was nothing in my pocket. I'm
+afraid I forgot because the cook and Miss Minchin were so cross."
+
+Melchisedec seemed to understand. He shuffled resignedly, if not
+contentedly, back to his home.
+
+"I did not expect to see you to-night, Ermie," Sara said.
+
+Ermengarde hugged herself in the red shawl.
+
+"Miss Amelia has gone out to spend the night with her old aunt," she
+explained. "No one else ever comes and looks into the bedrooms after we
+are in bed. I could stay here until morning if I wanted to."
+
+She pointed toward the table under the skylight. Sara had not looked
+toward it as she came in. A number of books were piled upon it.
+Ermengarde's gesture was a dejected one.
+
+"Papa has sent me some more books, Sara," she said. "There they are."
+
+Sara looked round and got up at once. She ran to the table, and picking
+up the top volume, turned over its leaves quickly. For the moment she
+forgot her discomforts.
+
+"Ah," she cried out, "how beautiful! Carlyle's 'French Revolution.' I
+have _so_ wanted to read that!"
+
+"I haven't," said Ermengarde. "And papa will be so cross if I don't.
+He'll expect me to know all about it when I go home for the holidays.
+What _shall_ I do?"
+
+Sara stopped turning over the leaves and looked at her with an excited
+flush on her cheeks.
+
+"Look here," she cried, "if you'll lend me these books, _I'll_ read
+them--and tell you everything that's in them afterward--and I'll tell it
+so that you will remember it, too."
+
+"Oh, goodness!" exclaimed Ermengarde. "Do you think you can?"
+
+"I know I can," Sara answered. "The little ones always remember what I
+tell them."
+
+"Sara," said Ermengarde, hope gleaming in her round face, "if you'll
+do that, and make me remember, I'll--I'll give you anything."
+
+"I don't want you to give me anything," said Sara. "I want your books--I
+want them!" And her eyes grew big, and her chest heaved.
+
+"Take them, then," said Ermengarde. "I wish I wanted them--but I don't.
+I'm not clever, and my father is, and he thinks I ought to be."
+
+Sara was opening one book after the other. "What are you going to tell
+your father?" she asked, a slight doubt dawning in her mind.
+
+"Oh, he needn't know," answered Ermengarde. "He'll think I've read
+them."
+
+Sara put down her book and shook her head slowly. "That's almost like
+telling lies," she said. "And lies--well, you see, they are not only
+wicked--they're _vulgar_. Sometimes"--reflectively--"I've thought
+perhaps I might do something wicked,--I might suddenly fly into a rage
+and kill Miss Minchin, you know, when she was ill-treating me,--but I
+_couldn't_ be vulgar. Why can't you tell your father _I_ read them?"
+
+"He wants me to read them," said Ermengarde, a little discouraged by
+this unexpected turn of affairs.
+
+"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 it, I should think he would
+like that."
+
+"He'll like it if I learn anything in _any_ way," said rueful
+Ermengarde. "You would if you were my father."
+
+"It's not your fault that--" began Sara. She pulled herself up and
+stopped rather suddenly. She had been going to say, "It's not your fault
+that you are stupid."
+
+"That what?" Ermengarde asked.
+
+"That you can't learn things quickly," amended Sara. "If you can't, you
+can't. If I can--why, I can; that's all."
+
+She always felt very tender of Ermengarde, and tried not to let her feel
+too strongly the difference between being able to learn anything at
+once, and not being able to learn anything at all. As she looked at her
+plump face, one of her wise, old-fashioned thoughts came to her.
+
+"Perhaps," she said, "to be able to learn things quickly isn't
+everything. To be kind is worth a great deal to other people. If Miss
+Minchin knew everything on earth and 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 have been wicked. Look at
+Robespierre--"
+
+She stopped and examined Ermengarde's countenance, which was beginning
+to look bewildered. "Don't you remember?" she demanded. "I told you
+about him not long ago. I believe you've forgotten."
+
+"Well, I don't remember _all_ of it," admitted Ermengarde.
+
+"Well, you wait a minute," said Sara, "and I'll take off my wet things
+and wrap myself in the coverlet and tell you over again."
+
+She took off her hat and coat and hung them on a nail against the wall,
+and she changed her wet shoes for an old pair of slippers. Then she
+jumped on the bed, and drawing the coverlet about her shoulders, sat
+with her arms round her knees.
+
+"Now, listen," she said.
+
+She plunged into the gory records of the French Revolution, and told
+such stories of it that Ermengarde's eyes grew round with alarm and
+she held her breath. But though she was rather terrified, there was
+a delightful thrill in listening, and she was not likely to forget
+Robespierre again, or to have any doubts about the Princesse de
+Lamballe.
+
+"You know they put her head on a pike and danced round it," Sara
+explained. "And she had beautiful floating 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."
+
+It was agreed that Mr. St. John was to be told the plan they had made,
+and for the present the books were to be left in the attic.
+
+"Now let's tell each other things," said Sara. "How are you getting on
+with your French lessons?"
+
+"Ever so much better since the last time I came up here and you
+explained the conjugations. Miss Minchin could not understand why I did
+my exercises so well that first morning."
+
+Sara laughed a little and hugged her knees.
+
+"She doesn't understand why Lottie is doing her sums so well," she said;
+"but it is because she creeps up here, too, and I help her." She glanced
+round the room. "The attic would be rather nice--if it wasn't so
+dreadful," she said, laughing again. "It's a good place to pretend in."
+
+The truth was that Ermengarde did not know anything of the sometimes
+almost unbearable side of life in the attic, and she had not a
+sufficiently vivid imagination to depict it for herself. On the rare
+occasions that she could reach Sara's room she only saw that side of it
+which was made exciting by things which were "pretended" and stories
+which were told. Her visits partook of the character of adventures; and
+though sometimes Sara looked rather pale, and it was not to be denied
+that she had grown very thin, her proud little spirit would not admit
+of complaints. She had never confessed that at times she was almost
+ravenous with hunger, as she was to-night. She was growing rapidly,
+and her constant walking and running about would have given her a keen
+appetite even if she had had abundant and regular meals of a much more
+nourishing nature than the unappetizing, inferior food snatched at such
+odd times as suited the kitchen convenience. She was growing used to a
+certain gnawing feeling in her young stomach.
+
+"I suppose soldiers feel like this when they are on a long and weary
+march," she often said to herself. She liked the sound of the phrase,
+"long and weary march." It made her feel rather like a soldier. She had
+also a quaint sense of being a hostess in the attic.
+
+"If I lived in a castle," she argued, "and Ermengarde was the lady of
+another castle, and came to see me, with knights and squires and vassals
+riding with her, and pennons flying; when I heard the clarions sounding
+outside the drawbridge I should go down to receive her, and I should
+spread feasts in the banquet-hall and call in minstrels to sing and
+play and relate romances. When she comes into the attic I can't spread
+feasts, but I can tell stories, and not let her know disagreeable
+things. I dare say poor chatelaines had to do that in times of famine,
+when their lands had been pillaged." She was a proud, brave little
+chatelaine, and dispensed generously the one hospitality she could
+offer--the dreams she dreamed--the visions she saw--the imaginings which
+were her joy and comfort.
+
+So, as they sat together, Ermengarde did not know that she was faint as
+well as ravenous, and that while she talked she now and then wondered if
+her hunger would let her sleep when she was left alone. She felt as if
+she had never been quite so hungry before.
+
+"I wish I was as thin as you, Sara," Ermengarde said suddenly. "I
+believe you are thinner than you used to be. Your eyes look so big, and
+look at the sharp little bones sticking out of your elbow!"
+
+Sara pulled down her sleeve, which had pushed itself up.
+
+"I always was a thin child," she said bravely, "and I always had big
+green eyes."
+
+"I love your queer eyes," said Ermengarde, looking into them with
+affectionate admiration. "They always look as if they saw such a long
+way. I love them--and I love them to be green--though they look black
+generally."
+
+"They are cat's eyes," laughed Sara; "but I can't see in the dark with
+them--because I have tried, and I couldn't--I wish I could."
+
+It was just at this minute that something happened at the skylight which
+neither of them saw. If either of them had chanced to turn and look,
+she would have been startled by the sight of a dark face which peered
+cautiously into the room and disappeared as quickly and almost as
+silently as it had appeared. Not _quite_ as silently, however. Sara, who
+had keen ears, suddenly turned a little and looked up at the roof.
+
+"That didn't sound like Melchisedec," she said. "It wasn't scratchy
+enough."
+
+"What?" said Ermengarde, a little startled.
+
+"Didn't you think you heard something?" asked Sara.
+
+"N-no," Ermengarde faltered. "Did you?"
+
+"Perhaps I didn't," said Sara; "but I thought I did. It sounded as if
+something was on the slates--something that dragged softly."
+
+"What could it be?" said Ermengarde. "Could it be--robbers?"
+
+"No," Sara began cheerfully. "There is nothing to steal--"
+
+She broke off in the middle of her words. They both heard the sound that
+checked her. It was not on the slates, but on the stairs below, and it
+was Miss Minchin's angry voice. Sara sprang off the bed, and put out the
+candle.
+
+"She is scolding Becky," she whispered, as she stood in the darkness.
+"She is making her cry."
+
+"Will she come in here?" Ermengarde whispered back, panic-stricken.
+
+"No. She will think I am in bed. Don't stir."
+
+It was very seldom that Miss Minchin mounted the last flight of stairs.
+Sara could only remember that she had done it once before. But now she
+was angry enough to be coming at least part of the way up, and it
+sounded as if she was driving Becky before her.
+
+"You impudent, dishonest child!" they heard her say. "Cook tells me she
+has missed things repeatedly."
+
+"'T warn't me, mum," said Becky, sobbing. "I was 'ungry enough, but 't
+warn't me--never!"
+
+"You deserve to be sent to prison," said Miss Minchin's voice. "Picking
+and stealing! Half a meat-pie, indeed!"
+
+"'T warn't me," wept Becky. "I could 'ave eat a whole un--but I never
+laid a finger on it."
+
+Miss Minchin was out of breath between temper and mounting the stairs.
+The meat-pie had been intended for her special late supper. It became
+apparent that she boxed Becky's ears.
+
+"Don't tell falsehoods," she said. "Go to your room this instant."
+
+Both Sara and Ermengarde heard the slap, and then heard Becky run in her
+slip-shod shoes up the stairs and into her attic. They heard her door
+shut, and knew that she threw herself upon her bed.
+
+"I could 'ave e't two of 'em," they heard her cry into her pillow. "An'
+I never took a bite. 'Twas cook give it to her policeman."
+
+Sara stood in the middle of the room in the darkness. She was clenching
+her little teeth and opening and shutting fiercely her outstretched
+hands. She could scarcely stand still, but she dared not move until Miss
+Minchin had gone down the stairs and all was still.
+
+"The wicked, cruel thing!" she burst forth. "The cook takes things
+herself and then says Becky steals them. She _doesn't_! She _doesn't_!
+She's so hungry sometimes that she eats crusts out of the ash-barrel!"
+She pressed her hands hard against her face and burst into passionate
+little sobs, and Ermengarde, hearing this unusual thing, was overawed
+by it. Sara was crying! The unconquerable Sara! It seemed to denote
+something new--some mood she had never known. Suppose--! Suppose--! A
+new dread possibility presented itself to her kind, slow, little mind
+all at once. She crept off the bed in the dark and found her way to the
+table where the candle stood. She struck a match and lit the candle.
+When she had lighted it, she bent forward and looked at Sara, with her
+new thought growing to definite fear in her eyes.
+
+"Sara," she said in a timid, almost awe-stricken voice, "are--are--you
+never told me--I don't want to be rude, but--are _you_ ever hungry?"
+
+It was too much just at that moment. The barrier broke down. Sara lifted
+her face from her hands.
+
+"Yes," she said in a new passionate way. "Yes, I am. I'm so hungry now
+that I could almost eat _you_. And it makes it worse to hear poor Becky.
+She's hungrier than I am."
+
+Ermengarde gasped.
+
+"Oh! Oh!" she cried wofully; "and I never knew!"
+
+"I didn't want you to know," Sara said. "It would have made me feel like
+a street beggar. I know I look like a street beggar."
+
+"No, you don't--you don't!" Ermengarde broke in. "Your clothes are a
+little queer,--but you _couldn't_ look like a street beggar. You haven't
+a street-beggar face."
+
+"A little boy once gave me a sixpence for charity," said Sara, with a
+short little laugh in spite of herself. "Here it is." And she pulled out
+the thin ribbon from her neck. "He wouldn't have given me his Christmas
+sixpence if I hadn't looked as if I needed it."
+
+Somehow the sight of the dear little sixpence was good for both of
+them. It made them laugh a little, though they both had tears in their
+eyes.
+
+"Who was he?" asked Ermengarde, looking at it quite as if it had not
+been a mere ordinary silver sixpence.
+
+"He was a darling little thing going to a party," said Sara. "He was one
+of the Large Family, the little one with the round legs--the one I call
+Guy Clarence. I suppose his nursery was crammed with Christmas presents
+and hampers full of cakes and things, and he could see I had had
+nothing."
+
+Ermengarde gave a little jump backward. The last sentences had recalled
+something to her troubled mind and given her a sudden inspiration.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she cried. "What a silly thing I am not to have thought of
+it!"
+
+"Of what?"
+
+"Something splendid!" said Ermengarde, in an excited hurry. "This very
+afternoon my nicest aunt sent me a box. It is full of good things. I
+never touched it, I had so much pudding at dinner, and I was so bothered
+about papa's books." Her words began to tumble over each other. "It's
+got cake in it, and little meat-pies, and jam-tarts and buns, and
+oranges and red-currant wine, and figs and chocolate. I'll creep back
+to my room and get it this minute, and we'll eat it now."
+
+Sara almost reeled. When one is faint with hunger the mention of food
+has sometimes a curious effect. She clutched Ermengarde's arm.
+
+"Do you think--you _could_?" she ejaculated.
+
+"I know I could," answered Ermengarde, and she ran to the door--opened
+it softly--put her head out into the darkness, and listened. Then she
+went back to Sara. "The lights are out. Everybody's in bed. I can
+creep--and creep--and no one will hear."
+
+It was so delightful that they caught each other's hands and a sudden
+light sprang into Sara's eyes.
+
+"Ermie!" she said. "Let us _pretend_! Let us pretend it's a party! And
+oh, won't you invite the prisoner in the next cell?"
+
+"Yes! Yes! Let us knock on the wall now. The jailer won't hear."
+
+Sara went to the wall. Through it she could hear poor Becky crying more
+softly. She knocked four times.
+
+"That means, 'Come to me through the secret passage under the wall,' she
+explained. 'I have something to communicate.'"
+
+Five quick knocks answered her.
+
+"She is coming," she said.
+
+Almost immediately the door of the attic opened and Becky appeared. Her
+eyes were red and her cap was sliding off, and when she caught sight of
+Ermengarde she began to rub her face nervously with her apron.
+
+"Don't mind me a bit, Becky!" cried Ermengarde.
+
+"Miss Ermengarde has asked you to come in," said Sara, "because she is
+going to bring a box of good things up here to us."
+
+Becky's cap almost fell off entirely, she broke in with such
+excitement.
+
+"To eat, miss?" she said. "Things that's good to eat?"
+
+"Yes," answered Sara, "and we are going to pretend a party."
+
+"And you shall have as much as you _want_ to eat," put in Ermengarde.
+"I'll go this minute!"
+
+She was in such haste that as she tiptoed out of the attic she dropped
+her red shawl and did not know it had fallen. No one saw it for a minute
+or so. Becky was too much overpowered by the good luck which had
+befallen her.
+
+"Oh, miss! oh, miss!" she gasped; "I know it was you that asked her to
+let me come. It--it makes me cry to think of it." And she went to Sara's
+side and stood and looked at her worshippingly.
+
+But in Sara's hungry eyes the old light had begun to glow and transform
+her world for her. Here in the attic--with the cold night outside--with
+the afternoon in the sloppy streets barely passed--with the memory of
+the awful unfed look in the beggar child's eyes not yet faded--this
+simple, cheerful thing had happened like a thing of magic.
+
+She caught her breath.
+
+"Somehow, something always happens," she cried, "just before things get
+to the very worst. It is as if the Magic did it. If I could only just
+remember that always. The worst thing never _quite_ comes."
+
+She gave Becky a little cheerful shake.
+
+"No, no! You mustn't cry!" she said. "We must make haste and set the
+table."
+
+"Set the table, miss?" said Becky, gazing round the room. "What'll we
+set it with?"
+
+Sara looked round the attic, too.
+
+"There doesn't seem to be much," she answered, half laughing.
+
+That moment she saw something and pounced upon it. It was Ermengarde's
+red shawl which lay upon the floor.
+
+"Here's the shawl," she cried. "I know she won't mind it. It will make
+such a nice red table-cloth."
+
+They pulled the old table forward, and threw the shawl over it. Red is
+a wonderfully kind and comfortable color. It began to make the room look
+furnished directly.
+
+"How nice a red rug would look on the floor!" exclaimed Sara. "We must
+pretend there is one!"
+
+Her eye swept the bare boards with a swift glance of admiration. The rug
+was laid down already.
+
+"How soft and thick it is!" she said, with the little laugh which Becky
+knew the meaning of; and she raised and set her foot down again
+delicately, as if she felt something under it.
+
+"Yes, miss," answered Becky, watching her with serious rapture. She was
+always quite serious.
+
+"What next, now?" said Sara, and she stood still and put her hands over
+her eyes. "Something will come if I think and wait a little"--in a soft,
+expectant voice. "The Magic will tell me."
+
+One of her favorite fancies was that on "the outside," as she called it,
+thoughts were waiting for people to call them. Becky had seen her stand
+and wait many a time before, and knew that in a few seconds she would
+uncover an enlightened, laughing face.
+
+In a moment she did.
+
+"There!" she cried. "It has come! I know now! I must look among the
+things in the old trunk I had when I was a princess."
+
+She flew to its corner and kneeled down. It had not been put in the
+attic for her benefit, but because there was no room for it elsewhere.
+Nothing had been left in it but rubbish. But she knew she should find
+something. The Magic always arranged that kind of thing in one way or
+another.
+
+In a corner lay a package so insignificant-looking that it had been
+overlooked, and when she herself had found it she had kept it as a
+relic. It contained a dozen small white handkerchiefs. She seized them
+joyfully and ran to the table. She began to arrange them upon the red
+table-cover, patting and coaxing them into shape with the narrow lace
+edge curling outward, her Magic working its spells for her as she did
+it.
+
+"These are the plates," she said. "They are golden plates. These are the
+richly embroidered napkins. Nuns worked them in convents in Spain."
+
+"Did they, miss?" breathed Becky, her very soul uplifted by the
+information.
+
+"You must pretend it," said Sara. "If you pretend it enough, you will
+see them."
+
+"Yes, miss," said Becky; and as Sara returned to the trunk she devoted
+herself to the effort of accomplishing an end so much to be desired.
+
+Sara turned suddenly to find her standing by the table, looking very
+queer indeed. She had shut her eyes, and was twisting her face in
+strange, convulsive contortions, her hands hanging stiffly clenched at
+her sides. She looked as if she was trying to lift some enormous weight.
+
+"What is the matter, Becky?" Sara cried. "What are you doing?"
+
+Becky opened her eyes with a start.
+
+"I was a-'pretendin',' miss," she answered a little sheepishly; "I was
+tryin' to see it like you do. I almost did," with a hopeful grin. "But
+it takes a lot o' stren'th."
+
+"Perhaps it does if you are not used to it," said Sara, with friendly
+sympathy; "but you don't know how easy it is when you've done it often.
+I wouldn't try so hard just at first. It will come to you after a while.
+I'll just tell you what things are. Look at these."
+
+She held an old summer hat in her hand which she had fished out of the
+bottom of the trunk. There was a wreath of flowers on it. She pulled the
+wreath off.
+
+"These are garlands for the feast," she said grandly. "They fill all the
+air with perfume. There's a mug on the wash-stand, Becky. Oh--and bring
+the soap-dish for a centrepiece."
+
+Becky handed them to her reverently.
+
+"What are they now, miss?" she inquired. "You'd think they was made of
+crockery,--but I know they ain't."
+
+"This is a carven flagon," said Sara, arranging tendrils of the wreath
+about the mug. "And this"--bending tenderly over the soap-dish and
+heaping it with roses--"is purest alabaster encrusted with gems."
+
+She touched the things gently, a happy smile hovering about her lips
+which made her look as if she were a creature in a dream.
+
+"My, ain't it lovely!" whispered Becky.
+
+"If we just had something for bonbon-dishes," Sara murmured.
+"There!"--darting to the trunk again. "I remember I saw something this
+minute."
+
+It was only a bundle of wool wrapped in red and white tissue-paper, but
+the tissue-paper was soon twisted into the form of little dishes, and
+was combined with the remaining flowers to ornament the candlestick
+which was to light the feast. Only the Magic could have made it more
+than an old table covered with a red shawl and set with rubbish from a
+long-unopened trunk. But Sara drew back and gazed at it, seeing wonders;
+and Becky, after staring in delight, spoke with bated breath.
+
+"This 'ere," she suggested, with a glance round the attic--"is it the
+Bastille now--or has it turned into somethin' different?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes!" said Sara; "quite different. It is a banquet-hall!"
+
+"My eye, miss!" ejaculated Becky. "A blanket-'all!" and she turned to
+view the splendors about her with awed bewilderment.
+
+"A banquet-hall," said Sara. "A vast chamber where feasts are given. It
+has a vaulted roof, and a minstrels' gallery, and a huge chimney filled
+with blazing oaken logs, and it is brilliant with waxen tapers twinkling
+on every side."
+
+"My eye, Miss Sara!" gasped Becky again.
+
+Then the door opened, and Ermengarde came in, rather staggering under
+the weight of her hamper. She started back with an exclamation of joy.
+To enter from the chill darkness outside, and find one's self confronted
+by a totally unanticipated festal board, draped with red, adorned with
+white napery, and wreathed with flowers, was to feel that the
+preparations were brilliant indeed.
+
+"Oh, Sara!" she cried out. "You are the cleverest girl I ever saw!"
+
+"Isn't it nice?" said Sara. "They are things out of my old trunk. I
+asked my Magic, and it told me to go and look."
+
+"But oh, miss," cried Becky, "wait till she's told you what they are!
+They ain't just--oh, miss, please tell her," appealing to Sara.
+
+So Sara told her, and because her Magic helped her she made her _almost_
+see it all: the golden platters--the vaulted spaces--the blazing
+logs--the twinkling waxen tapers. As the things were taken out of the
+hamper--the frosted cakes--the fruits--the bonbons and the wine--the
+feast became a splendid thing.
+
+"It's like a real party!" cried Ermengarde.
+
+"It's like a queen's table," sighed Becky.
+
+Then Ermengarde had a sudden brilliant thought.
+
+"I'll tell you what, Sara," she said. "Pretend you are a princess now
+and this is a royal feast."
+
+"But it's your feast," said Sara; "you must be the princess, and we will
+be your maids of honor."
+
+"Oh, I can't," said Ermengarde. "I'm too fat, and I don't know how.
+_You_ be her."
+
+"Well, if you want me to," said Sara.
+
+But suddenly she thought of something else and ran to the rusty grate.
+
+"There is a lot of paper and rubbish stuffed in here!" she exclaimed.
+"If we light it, there will be a bright blaze for a few minutes, and we
+shall feel as if it was a real fire." She struck a match and lighted it
+up with a great specious glow which illuminated the room.
+
+"By the time it stops blazing," Sara said, "we shall forget about its
+not being real."
+
+She stood in the dancing glow and smiled.
+
+"Doesn't it _look_ real?" she said. "Now we will begin the party."
+
+She led the way to the table. She waved her hand graciously to
+Ermengarde and Becky. She was in the midst of her dream.
+
+"Advance, fair damsels," she said in her happy dream-voice, "and be
+seated at the banquet-table. My noble father, the king, who is absent
+on a long journey, has commanded me to feast you." She turned her head
+slightly toward the corner of the room. "What, ho! there, minstrels!
+Strike up with your viols and bassoons. Princesses," she explained
+rapidly to Ermengarde and Becky, "always had minstrels to play at their
+feasts. Pretend there is a minstrel gallery up there in the corner. Now
+we will begin."
+
+They had barely had time to take their pieces of cake into their
+hands--not one of them had time to do more, when--they all
+three sprang to their feet and turned pale faces toward the
+door--listening--listening.
+
+Some one was coming up the stairs. There was no mistake about it. Each
+of them recognized the angry, mounting tread and knew that the end of
+all things had come.
+
+"It's--the missus!" choked Becky, and dropped her piece of cake upon the
+floor.
+
+"Yes," said Sara, her eyes growing shocked and large in her small white
+face. "Miss Minchin has found us out."
+
+Miss Minchin struck the door open with a blow of her hand. She was pale
+herself, but it was with rage. She looked from the frightened faces to
+the banquet-table, and from the banquet-table to the last flicker of the
+burnt paper in the grate.
+
+"I have been suspecting something of this sort," she exclaimed; "but I
+did not dream of such audacity. Lavinia was telling the truth."
+
+So they knew that it was Lavinia who had somehow guessed their secret
+and had betrayed them. Miss Minchin strode over to Becky and boxed her
+ears for a second time.
+
+"You impudent creature!" she said. "You leave the house in the morning!"
+
+Sara stood quite still, her eyes growing larger, her face paler.
+Ermengarde burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, don't send her away," she sobbed. "My aunt sent me the hamper.
+We're--only--having a party."
+
+"So I see," said Miss Minchin, witheringly. "With the Princess Sara at
+the head of the table." She turned fiercely on Sara. "It is your doing,
+I know," she cried. "Ermengarde would never have thought of such a
+thing. You decorated the table, I suppose--with this rubbish." She
+stamped her foot at Becky. "Go to your attic!" she commanded, and Becky
+stole away, her face hidden in her apron, her shoulders shaking.
+
+Then it was Sara's turn again.
+
+"I will attend to you to-morrow. You shall have neither breakfast,
+dinner, nor supper!"
+
+"I have not had either dinner or supper to-day, Miss Minchin," said
+Sara, rather faintly.
+
+"Then all the better. You will have something to remember. Don't stand
+there. Put those things into the hamper again."
+
+She began to sweep them off the table into the hamper herself, and
+caught sight of Ermengarde's new books.
+
+"And you"--to Ermengarde--"have brought your beautiful new books into
+this dirty attic. Take them up and go back to bed. You will stay there
+all day to-morrow, and I shall write to your papa. What would _he_ say
+if he knew where you are to-night?"
+
+Something she saw in Sara's grave, fixed gaze at this moment made her
+turn on her fiercely.
+
+"What are you thinking of?" she demanded. "Why do you look at me like
+that?"
+
+"I was wondering," answered Sara, as she had answered that notable day
+in the school-room.
+
+"What were you wondering?"
+
+It was very like the scene in the school-room. There was no pertness in
+Sara's manner. It was only sad and quiet.
+
+"I was wondering," she said in a low voice, "what _my_ papa would say if
+he knew where I am to-night."
+
+Miss Minchin was infuriated just as she had been before, and her anger
+expressed itself, as before, in an intemperate fashion. She flew at her
+and shook her.
+
+"You insolent, unmanageable child!" she cried. "How dare you! How dare
+you!"
+
+She picked up the books, swept the rest of the feast back into the
+hamper in a jumbled heap, thrust it into Ermengarde's arms, and pushed
+her before her toward the door.
+
+"I will leave you to wonder," she said. "Go to bed this instant." And
+she shut the door behind herself and poor stumbling Ermengarde, and left
+Sara standing quite alone.
+
+The dream was quite at an end. The last spark had died out of the paper
+in the grate and left only black tinder; the table was left bare, the
+golden plates and richly embroidered napkins, and the garlands were
+transformed again into old handkerchiefs, scraps of red and white
+paper, and discarded artificial flowers all scattered on the floor; the
+minstrels in the minstrel gallery had stolen away, and the viols and
+bassoons were still. Emily was sitting with her back against the wall,
+staring very hard. Sara saw her, and went and picked her up with
+trembling hands.
+
+"There isn't any banquet left, Emily," she said. "And there isn't any
+princess. There is nothing left but the prisoners in the Bastille." And
+she sat down and hid her face.
+
+What would have happened if she had not hidden it just then, and if
+she had chanced to look up at the skylight at the wrong moment, I do
+not know--perhaps the end of this chapter might have been quite
+different--because if she had glanced at the skylight she would
+certainly have been startled by what she would have seen. She would
+have seen exactly the same face pressed against the glass and peering
+in at her as it had peered in earlier in the evening when she had been
+talking to Ermengarde.
+
+But she did not look up. She sat with her little black head in her arms
+for some time. She always sat like that when she was trying to bear
+something in silence. Then she got up and went slowly to the bed.
+
+"I can't pretend anything else--while I am awake," she said. "There
+wouldn't be any use in trying. If I go to sleep, perhaps a dream will
+come and pretend for me."
+
+She suddenly felt so tired--perhaps through want of food--that she sat
+down on the edge of the bed quite weakly.
+
+"Suppose there was a bright fire in the grate, with lots of little
+dancing flames," she murmured. "Suppose there was a comfortable chair
+before it--and suppose there was a small table near, with a little
+hot--hot supper on it. And suppose"--as she drew the thin coverings over
+her--"suppose this was a beautiful soft bed, with fleecy blankets and
+large downy pillows. Suppose--suppose--" And her very weariness was
+good to her, for her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+She did not know how long she slept. But she had been tired enough to
+sleep deeply and profoundly--too deeply and soundly to be disturbed by
+anything, even by the squeaks and scamperings of Melchisedec's entire
+family, if all his sons and daughters had chosen to come out of their
+hole to fight and tumble and play.
+
+When she awakened it was rather suddenly, and she did not know that
+any particular thing had called her out of her sleep. The truth
+was, however, that it was a sound which had called her back--a real
+sound--the click of the skylight as it fell in closing after a lithe
+white figure which slipped through it and crouched down close by upon
+the slates of the roof--just near enough to see what happened in the
+attic, but not near enough to be seen.
+
+At first she did not open her eyes. She felt too sleepy and--curiously
+enough--too warm and comfortable. She was so warm and comfortable,
+indeed, that she did not believe she was really awake. She never was as
+warm and cosey as this except in some lovely vision.
+
+"What a nice dream!" she murmured. "I feel quite warm.
+I--don't--want--to--wake--up."
+
+Of course it was a dream. She felt as if warm, delightful bedclothes
+were heaped upon her. She could actually _feel_ blankets, and when she
+put out her hand it touched something exactly like a satin-covered
+eider-down quilt. She must not awaken from this delight--she must be
+quite still and make it last.
+
+But she could not--even though she kept her eyes closed tightly, she
+could not. Something was forcing her to awaken--something in the room.
+It was a sense of light, and a sound--the sound of a crackling, roaring
+little fire.
+
+"Oh, I am awakening," she said mournfully. "I can't help it--I can't."
+
+Her eyes opened in spite of herself. And then she actually smiled--for
+what she saw she had never seen in the attic before, and knew she never
+should see.
+
+"Oh, I _haven't_ awakened," she whispered, daring to rise on her elbow
+and look all about her. "I am dreaming yet." She knew it _must_ be a
+dream, for if she were awake such things could not--could not be.
+
+Do you wonder that she felt sure she had not come back to earth? This is
+what she saw. In the grate there was a glowing, blazing fire; on the hob
+was a little brass kettle hissing and boiling; spread upon the floor was
+a thick, warm crimson rug; before the fire a folding-chair, unfolded,
+and with cushions on it; by the chair a small folding-table, unfolded,
+covered with a white cloth, and upon it spread small covered dishes,
+a cup, a saucer, a tea-pot; on the bed were new warm coverings and a
+satin-covered down quilt; at the foot a curious wadded silk robe, a pair
+of quilted slippers, and some books. The room of her dream seemed
+changed into fairyland--and it was flooded with warm light, for a bright
+lamp stood on the table covered with a rosy shade.
+
+She sat up, resting on her elbow, and her breathing came short and fast.
+
+"It does not--melt away," she panted. "Oh, I never had such a dream
+before." She scarcely dared to stir; but at last she pushed the
+bedclothes aside, and put her feet on the floor with a rapturous smile.
+
+"I am dreaming--I am getting out of bed," she heard her own voice say;
+and then, as she stood up in the midst of it all, turning slowly from
+side to side,--"I am dreaming it stays--real! I'm dreaming it _feels_
+real. It's bewitched--or I'm bewitched. I only _think_ I see it all."
+Her words began to hurry themselves. "If I can only keep on thinking
+it," she cried, "I don't care! I don't care!"
+
+She stood panting a moment longer, and then cried out again.
+
+"Oh, it isn't true!" she said. "It _can't_ be true! But oh, how true it
+seems!"
+
+The blazing fire drew her to it, and she knelt down and held out her
+hands close to it--so close that the heat made her start back.
+
+"A fire I only dreamed wouldn't be _hot_," she cried.
+
+She sprang up, touched the table, the dishes, the rug; she went to the
+bed and touched the blankets. She took up the soft wadded dressing-gown,
+and suddenly clutched it to her breast and held it to her cheek.
+
+"It's warm. It's soft!" she almost sobbed. "It's real. It must be!"
+
+She threw it over her shoulders, and put her feet into the slippers.
+
+"They are real, too. It's all real!" she cried. "I am _not_--I am _not_
+dreaming!"
+
+She almost staggered to the books and opened the one which lay upon the
+top. Something was written on the fly-leaf--just a few words, and they
+were these:
+
+"To the little girl in the attic. From a friend."
+
+When she saw that--wasn't it a strange thing for her to do?--she put her
+face down upon the page and burst into tears.
+
+"I don't know who it is," she said; "but somebody cares for me a little.
+I have a friend."
+
+She took her candle and stole out of her own room and into Becky's, and
+stood by her bedside.
+
+"Becky, Becky!" she whispered as loudly as she dared. "Wake up!"
+
+When Becky wakened, and she sat upright staring aghast, her face still
+smudged with traces of tears, beside her stood a little figure in a
+luxurious wadded robe of crimson silk. The face she saw was a shining,
+wonderful thing. The Princess Sara--as she remembered her--stood at her
+very bedside, holding a candle in her hand.
+
+"Come," she said. "Oh, Becky, come!"
+
+Becky was too frightened to speak. She simply got up and followed her,
+with her mouth and eyes open, and without a word.
+
+And when they crossed the threshold, Sara shut the door gently and drew
+her into the warm, glowing midst of things which made her brain reel and
+her hungry senses faint.
+
+"It's true! It's true!" she cried. "I've touched them all. They are as
+real as we are. The Magic has come and done it, Becky, while we were
+asleep--the Magic that won't let those worst things _ever_ quite
+happen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE VISITOR
+
+
+Imagine, if you can, what the rest of the evening was like. How they
+crouched by the fire which blazed and leaped and made so much of itself
+in the little grate. How they removed the covers of the dishes, and
+found rich, hot, savory soup, which was a meal in itself, and sandwiches
+and toast and muffins enough for both of them. The mug from the
+washstand was used as Becky's tea-cup, and the tea was so delicious that
+it was not necessary to pretend that it was anything else but tea. They
+were warm and full-fed and happy, and it was just like Sara that, having
+found her strange good fortune real, she should give herself up to the
+enjoyment of it to the utmost. She had lived such a life of imaginings
+that she was quite equal to accepting any wonderful thing that happened,
+and almost to cease, in a short time, to find it bewildering.
+
+"I don't know any one in the world who could have done it," she
+said; "but there has been some one. And here we are sitting by their
+fire--and--and--it's _true_! And whoever it is--wherever they are--I
+have a friend, Becky--some one is my friend."
+
+It cannot be denied that as they sat before the blazing fire, and ate
+the nourishing, comfortable food, they felt a kind of rapturous awe, and
+looked into each other's eyes with something like doubt.
+
+"Do you think," Becky faltered once, in a whisper--"do you think it
+could melt away, miss? Hadn't we better be quick?" And she hastily
+crammed her sandwich into her mouth. If it was only a dream, kitchen
+manners would be overlooked.
+
+"No, it won't melt away," said Sara. "I am _eating_ this muffin, and I
+can taste it. You never really eat things in dreams. You only think you
+are going to eat them. Besides, I keep giving myself pinches; and I
+touched a hot piece of coal just now, on purpose."
+
+The sleepy comfort which at length almost overpowered them was a
+heavenly thing. It was the drowsiness of happy, well-fed childhood, and
+they sat in the fire-glow and luxuriated in it until Sara found herself
+turning to look at her transformed bed.
+
+There were even blankets enough to share with Becky. The narrow couch in
+the next attic was more comfortable that night than its occupant had
+ever dreamed that it could be.
+
+As she went out of the room, Becky turned upon the threshold and looked
+about her with devouring eyes.
+
+"If it ain't here in the mornin', miss," she said, "it's been here
+to-night, anyways, an' I sha'n't never forget it." She looked at
+each particular thing, as if to commit it to memory. "The fire was
+_there_," pointing with her finger, "an' the table was before it; an'
+the lamp was there, an' the light looked rosy red; an' there was a
+satin cover on your bed, an' a warm rug on the floor, an' everythin'
+looked beautiful; an'"--she paused a second, and laid her hand on her
+stomach tenderly--"there _was_ soup an' sandwiches an' muffins--there
+_was_." And, with this conviction a reality at least, she went away.
+
+Through the mysterious agency which works in schools and among servants,
+it was quite well known in the morning that Sara Crewe was in horrible
+disgrace, that Ermengarde was under punishment, and that Becky would
+have been packed out of the house before breakfast, but that a
+scullery-maid could not be dispensed with at once. The servants knew
+that she was allowed to stay because Miss Minchin could not easily find
+another creature helpless and humble enough to work like a bounden slave
+for so few shillings a week. The elder girls in the school-room knew
+that if Miss Minchin did not send Sara away it was for practical reasons
+of her own.
+
+"She's growing so fast and learning such a lot, somehow," said Jessie to
+Lavinia, "that she will be given classes soon, and Miss Minchin knows
+she will have to work for nothing. It was rather nasty of you, Lavvy, to
+tell about her having fun in the garret. How did you find it out?"
+
+"I got it out of Lottie. She's such a baby she didn't know she was
+telling me. There was nothing nasty at all in speaking to Miss Minchin.
+I felt it my duty"--priggishly. "She was being deceitful. And it's
+ridiculous that she should look so grand, and be made so much of, in her
+rags and tatters!"
+
+"What were they doing when Miss Minchin caught them?"
+
+"Pretending some silly thing. Ermengarde had taken up her hamper to
+share with Sara and Becky. She never invites us to share things. Not
+that I care, but it's rather vulgar of her to share with servant-girls
+in attics. I wonder Miss Minchin didn't turn Sara out--even if she does
+want her for a teacher."
+
+"If she was turned out where would she go?" inquired Jessie, a trifle
+anxiously.
+
+"How do I know?" snapped Lavinia. "She'll look rather queer when she
+comes into the school-room this morning, I should think--after what's
+happened. She had no dinner yesterday, and she's not to have any
+to-day."
+
+Jessie was not as ill-natured as she was silly. She picked up her book
+with a little jerk.
+
+"Well, I think it's horrid," she said. "They've no right to starve her
+to death."
+
+When Sara went into the kitchen that morning the cook looked askance at
+her, and so did the housemaids; but she passed them hurriedly. She had,
+in fact, overslept herself a little, and as Becky had done the same,
+neither had had time to see the other, and each had come down-stairs in
+haste.
+
+Sara went into the scullery. Becky was violently scrubbing a kettle, and
+was actually gurgling a little song in her throat. She looked up with a
+wildly elated face.
+
+"It was there when I wakened, miss--the blanket," she whispered
+excitedly. "It was as real as it was last night."
+
+"So was mine," said Sara. "It is all there now--all of it. While I was
+dressing I ate some of the cold things we left."
+
+"Oh, laws! oh, laws!" Becky uttered the exclamation in a sort of
+rapturous groan, and ducked her head over her kettle just in time, as
+the cook came in from the kitchen.
+
+Miss Minchin had expected to see in Sara, when she appeared in the
+school-room, very much what Lavinia had expected to see. Sara had always
+been an annoying puzzle to her, because severity never made her cry
+or look frightened. When she was scolded she stood still and listened
+politely with a grave face; when she was punished she performed her
+extra tasks or went without her meals, making no complaint or outward
+sign of rebellion. The very fact that she never made an impudent
+answer seemed to Miss Minchin a kind of impudence in itself. But after
+yesterday's deprivation of meals, the violent scene of last night, the
+prospect of hunger to-day, she must surely have broken down. It would
+be strange indeed if she did not come down-stairs with pale cheeks and
+red eyes and an unhappy, humbled face.
+
+Miss Minchin saw her for the first time when she entered the school-room
+to hear the little French class its lessons and superintend its
+exercises. And she came in with a springing step, color in her cheeks,
+and a smile hovering about the corners of her mouth. It was the most
+astonishing thing Miss Minchin had ever known. It gave her quite a
+shock. What was the child made of? What could such a thing mean? She
+called her at once to her desk.
+
+"You do not look as if you realize that you are in disgrace," she said.
+"Are you absolutely hardened?"
+
+The truth is that when one is still a child--or even if one is grown
+up--and has been well fed, and has slept long and softly and warm; when
+one has gone to sleep in the midst of a fairy story, and has wakened to
+find it real, one cannot be unhappy or even look as if one were; and one
+could not, if one tried, keep a glow of joy out of one's eyes. Miss
+Minchin was almost struck dumb by the look of Sara's eyes when she
+lifted them and made her perfectly respectful answer.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Miss Minchin," she said; "I know that I am in
+disgrace."
+
+"Be good enough not to forget it and look as if you had come into a
+fortune. It is an impertinence. And remember you are to have no food
+to-day."
+
+"Yes, Miss Minchin," Sara answered; but as she turned away her heart
+leaped with the memory of what yesterday had been. "If the Magic had not
+saved me just in time," she thought, "how horrible it would have been!"
+
+"She can't be very hungry," whispered Lavinia. "Just look at her.
+Perhaps she is pretending she has had a good breakfast"--with a spiteful
+laugh.
+
+"She's different from other people," said Jessie, watching Sara with her
+class. "Sometimes I'm a bit frightened of her."
+
+"Ridiculous thing!" ejaculated Lavinia.
+
+All through the day the light was in Sara's face, and the color in her
+cheek. The servants cast puzzled glances at her, and whispered to
+each other, and Miss Amelia's small blue eyes wore an expression of
+bewilderment. What such an audacious look of well-being, under august
+displeasure, could mean she could not understand. It was, however, just
+like Sara's singular obstinate way. She was probably determined to brave
+the matter out.
+
+One thing Sara had resolved upon, as she thought things over. The
+wonders which had happened must be kept a secret, if such a thing were
+possible. If Miss Minchin should choose to mount to the attic again, of
+course all would be discovered. But it did not seem likely that she
+would do so for some time at least, unless she was led by suspicion.
+Ermengarde and Lottie would be watched with such strictness that they
+would not dare to steal out of their beds again. Ermengarde could be
+told the story and trusted to keep it secret. If Lottie made any
+discoveries, she could be bound to secrecy also. Perhaps the Magic
+itself would help to hide its own marvels.
+
+"But whatever happens," Sara kept saying to herself all day--"what_ever_
+happens, somewhere in the world there is a heavenly kind person who is
+my friend--my friend. If I never know who it is--if I never can even
+thank him--I shall never feel quite so lonely. Oh, the Magic was _good_
+to me!"
+
+If it was possible for weather to be worse than it had been the day
+before, it was worse this day--wetter, muddier, colder. There were more
+errands to be done, the cook was more irritable, and, knowing that Sara
+was in disgrace, she was more savage. But what does anything matter when
+one's Magic has just proved itself one's friend. Sara's supper of the
+night before had given her strength, she knew that she should sleep well
+and warmly, and, even though she had naturally begun to be hungry again
+before evening, she felt that she could bear it until breakfast-time on
+the following day, when her meals would surely be given to her again. It
+was quite late when she was at last allowed to go up-stairs. She had
+been told to go into the school-room and study until ten o'clock, and
+she had become interested in her work, and remained over her books
+later.
+
+When she reached the top flight of stairs and stood before the attic
+door, it must be confessed that her heart beat rather fast.
+
+"Of course it _might_ all have been taken away," she whispered, trying
+to be brave. "It might only have been lent to me for just that one awful
+night. But it _was_ lent to me--I had it. It was real."
+
+She pushed the door open and went in. Once inside, she gasped slightly,
+shut the door, and stood with her back against it, looking from side to
+side.
+
+The Magic had been there again. It actually had, and it had done even
+more than before. The fire was blazing, in lovely leaping flames, more
+merrily than ever. A number of new things had been brought into the
+attic which so altered the look of it that if she had not been past
+doubting, she would have rubbed her eyes. Upon the low table another
+supper stood--this time with cups and plates for Becky as well as
+herself; a piece of bright, heavy, strange embroidery 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 of rich colors had been
+fastened against the wall with fine, sharp tacks--so sharp that they
+could be pressed into the wood and plaster without hammering. Some
+brilliant fans were pinned up, and there were several large cushions,
+big and substantial enough to use as seats. A wooden box was covered
+with a rug, and some cushions lay on it, so that it wore quite the air
+of a sofa.
+
+Sara slowly moved away from the door and simply sat down and looked and
+looked again.
+
+"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
+or bags of gold--and they would appear! _That_ wouldn't be any stranger
+than this. Is this my garret? Am I the same cold, ragged, damp Sara? And
+to think I used to pretend and pretend and wish there were fairies!
+The one thing I always wanted was to see a fairy story come true. I am
+_living_ in a fairy story. I feel as if I might be a fairy myself, and
+able to turn things into anything else."
+
+She rose and knocked upon the wall for the prisoner in the next cell,
+and the prisoner came.
+
+When she entered she almost dropped in a heap upon the floor. For a few
+seconds she quite lost her breath.
+
+"Oh, laws!" she gasped, "Oh, laws, miss!" just as she had done in the
+scullery.
+
+"You see," said Sara.
+
+On this night Becky sat on a cushion upon the hearth-rug and had a cup
+and saucer of her own.
+
+When Sara went to bed she found that she had a new thick mattress and
+big downy pillows. Her old mattress and pillow had been removed to
+Becky's bedstead, and, consequently, with these additions Becky had been
+supplied with unheard-of comfort.
+
+"Where does it all come from?" Becky broke forth once. "Laws! who does
+it, miss?"
+
+"Don't let us even _ask_" said Sara. "If it were not that I want to say,
+'Oh, thank you,' I would rather not know. It makes it more beautiful."
+
+From that time life became more wonderful day by day. The fairy story
+continued. Almost every day something new was done. Some new comfort or
+ornament appeared each time Sara opened the door at night, until in a
+short time the attic was a beautiful little room full of all sorts of
+odd and luxurious things. The ugly walls were gradually entirely covered
+with pictures and draperies, ingenious pieces of folding furniture
+appeared, a book-shelf was hung up and filled with books, new comforts
+and conveniences appeared one by one, until there seemed nothing left to
+be desired. When Sara went down-stairs in the morning, the remains of
+the supper were on the table; and when she returned to the attic in the
+evening, the magician had removed them and left another nice little
+meal. Miss Minchin was as harsh and insulting as ever, Miss Amelia as
+peevish, and the servants were as vulgar and rude. Sara was sent on
+errands in all weathers, and scolded and driven hither and thither; she
+was scarcely allowed to speak to Ermengarde and Lottie; Lavinia sneered
+at the increasing shabbiness of her clothes; and the other girls stared
+curiously at her when she appeared in the school-room. But what did it
+all matter while she was living in this wonderful mysterious story? It
+was more romantic and delightful than anything she had ever invented to
+comfort her starved young soul and save herself from despair. Sometimes,
+when she was scolded, she could scarcely keep from smiling.
+
+"If you only knew!" she was saying to herself. "If you only knew!"
+
+The comfort and happiness she enjoyed were making her stronger, and she
+had them always to look forward to. If she came home from her errands
+wet and tired and hungry, she knew she would soon be warm and well fed
+after she had climbed the stairs. During the hardest day she could
+occupy herself blissfully by thinking of what she should see when she
+opened the attic door, and wondering what new delight had been prepared
+for her. In a very short time she began to look less thin. Color came
+into her cheeks, and her eyes did not seem so much too big for her face.
+
+"Sara Crewe looks wonderfully well," Miss Minchin remarked
+disapprovingly to her sister.
+
+"Yes," answered poor, silly Miss Amelia. "She is absolutely fattening.
+She was beginning to look like a little starved crow."
+
+"Starved!" exclaimed Miss Minchin, angrily. "There was no reason why she
+should look starved. She always had plenty to eat!"
+
+"Of--of course," agreed Miss Amelia, humbly, alarmed to find that she
+had, as usual, said the wrong thing.
+
+"There is something very disagreeable in seeing that sort of thing in a
+child of her age," said Miss Minchin, with haughty vagueness.
+
+"What--sort of thing?" Miss Amelia ventured.
+
+"It might almost be called defiance," answered Miss Minchin, feeling
+annoyed because she knew the thing she resented was nothing like
+defiance, and she did not know what other unpleasant term to use. "The
+spirit and will of any other child would have been entirely humbled and
+broken by--by the changes she has had to submit to. But, upon my word,
+she seems as little subdued as if--as if she were a princess."
+
+"Do you remember," put in the unwise Miss Amelia, "what she said to you
+that day in the school-room about what you would do if you found out
+that she was--"
+
+"No, I don't," said Miss Minchin. "Don't talk nonsense." But she
+remembered very clearly indeed.
+
+Very naturally, even Becky was beginning to look plumper and less
+frightened. She could not help it. She had her share in the secret fairy
+story, too. She had two mattresses, two pillows, plenty of bed-covering,
+and every night a hot supper and a seat on the cushions by the fire.
+The Bastille had melted away, the prisoners no longer existed. Two
+comforted children sat in the midst of delights. Sometimes Sara read
+aloud from her books, sometimes she learned her own lessons, sometimes
+she sat and looked into the fire and tried to imagine who her friend
+could be, and wished she could say to him some of the things in her
+heart.
+
+Then it came about 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 right-hand attic."
+
+Sara herself was sent to open the door and took them in. She laid the
+two largest parcels on the hall table, and was looking at the address,
+when Miss Minchin came down the stairs and saw her.
+
+"Take the things to the young lady to whom they belong," she said
+severely. "Don't stand there staring at them."
+
+"They belong to me," answered Sara, quietly.
+
+"To you?" exclaimed Miss Minchin. "What do you mean?"
+
+"I don't know where they come from," said Sara, "but they are addressed
+to me. I sleep in the right-hand attic. Becky has the other one."
+
+Miss Minchin came to her side and looked at the parcels with an excited
+expression.
+
+"What is in them?" she demanded.
+
+"I don't know," replied Sara.
+
+"Open them," she ordered.
+
+Sara did as she was told. When the packages were unfolded Miss
+Minchin's countenance wore suddenly a singular expression. What she saw
+was pretty and comfortable clothing--clothing of different kinds: shoes,
+stockings, and gloves, and a warm and beautiful coat. There were even a
+nice hat and an umbrella. They were all good and expensive things, and
+on the pocket of the coat was pinned a paper, on which were written
+these words: "To be worn every day.--Will be replaced by others when
+necessary."
+
+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 neglected child had some powerful
+though eccentric friend in the background--perhaps some previously
+unknown relation, who had suddenly traced her whereabouts, and chose to
+provide for her in this mysterious and fantastic way? Relations were
+sometimes very odd--particularly rich old bachelor uncles, who did not
+care for having children near them. A man of that sort might prefer to
+overlook his young relation's welfare at a distance. Such a person,
+however, would be sure to be crotchety and hot-tempered enough to be
+easily offended. It would not be very pleasant if there were such a one,
+and he should learn all the truth about the thin, shabby clothes, the
+scant food, and the hard work. She felt very queer indeed, and very
+uncertain, and she gave a side glance at Sara.
+
+"Well," she said, in a voice such as she had never used since the little
+girl lost her father, "some one is very kind to you. As the things have
+been sent, and you are to have new ones when they are worn out, you may
+as well go and put them on and look respectable. After you are dressed
+you may come down-stairs and learn your lessons in the school-room. You
+need not go out on any more errands to-day."
+
+About half an hour afterward, when the school-room door opened and Sara
+walked in, the entire seminary was struck dumb with amazement.
+
+"My word!" ejaculated Jessie, jogging Lavinia's elbow. "Look at the
+Princess Sara!"
+
+Everybody was looking, and when Lavinia looked she turned quite red.
+
+It was the Princess Sara indeed. At least, since the days when she had
+been a princess, Sara had never looked as she did now. She did not seem
+the Sara they had seen come down the back stairs a few hours ago. She
+was dressed in the kind of frock Lavinia had been used to envying her
+the possession of. It was deep and warm in color, and beautifully made.
+Her slender feet looked as they had done when Jessie had admired them,
+and the hair, whose heavy locks had made her look rather like a Shetland
+pony when it fell loose about her small, odd face, was tied back with a
+ribbon.
+
+"Perhaps some one has left her a fortune," Jessie whispered. "I always
+thought something would happen to her. She is so queer."
+
+"Perhaps the diamond-mines have suddenly appeared again," said Lavinia,
+scathingly. "Don't please her by staring at her in that way, you silly
+thing."
+
+"Sara," broke in Miss Minchin's deep voice, "come and sit here."
+
+And while the whole school-room stared and pushed with elbows, and
+scarcely made any effort to conceal its excited curiosity, Sara went to
+her old seat of honor, and bent her head over her books.
+
+That night, when she went to her room, after she and Becky had eaten
+their supper she sat and looked at the fire seriously for a long time.
+
+"Are you making something up in your head, miss?" Becky inquired with
+respectful softness. When Sara sat in silence and looked into the coals
+with dreaming eyes it generally meant that she was making a new story.
+But this time she was not, and she shook her head.
+
+"No," she answered. "I am wondering what I ought to do."
+
+Becky stared--still respectfully. She was filled with something
+approaching reverence for everything Sara did and said.
+
+"I can't help thinking about my friend," Sara explained. "If he wants to
+keep himself a secret, it would be rude to try and find out who he is.
+But I do so want him to know how thankful I am to him--and how happy he
+has made me. Any one who is kind wants to know when people have been
+made happy. They care for that more than for being thanked. I wish--I do
+wish--"
+
+She stopped short because her eyes at that instant fell upon something
+standing on a table in a corner. It was something she had found in the
+room when she came up to it only two days before. It was a little
+writing-case fitted with paper and envelopes and pens and ink.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "why did I not think of that before?"
+
+She rose and went to the corner and brought the case back to the fire.
+
+"I can write to him," she said joyfully, "and leave it on the table.
+Then perhaps the person who takes the things away will take it, too. I
+won't ask him anything. He won't mind my thanking him, I feel sure."
+
+So she wrote a note. This is what she said:
+
+  "I hope you will not think it is impolite that I should write this
+  note to you when you wish to keep yourself a secret. Please believe
+  I do not mean to be impolite or try to find out anything at all;
+  only I want to thank you for being so kind to me--so heavenly
+  kind--and making everything like a fairy story. I am so grateful
+  to you, and I am so happy--and so is Becky. Becky feels just as
+  thankful as I do--it is all just as beautiful and wonderful to her
+  as it is to me. We used to be so lonely and cold and hungry, and
+  now--oh, just think what you have done for us! Please let me say
+  just these words. It seems as if I _ought_ to say them. _Thank_
+  you--_thank_ you--_thank_ you!
+
+                             "THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE ATTIC."
+
+The next morning she left this on the little table, and in the evening
+it had been taken away with the other things; so she knew the Magician
+had received it, and she was happier for the thought. She was reading
+one of her new books to Becky just before they went to their respective
+beds, when her attention was attracted by a sound at the skylight. When
+she looked up from her page she saw that Becky had heard the sound also,
+as she had turned her head to look and was listening rather nervously.
+
+"Something's there, miss," she whispered.
+
+"Yes," said Sara, slowly. "It sounds--rather like a cat--trying to get
+in."
+
+She left her chair and went to the skylight. It was a queer little sound
+she heard--like a soft scratching. She suddenly remembered something and
+laughed. She remembered a quaint little intruder who had made his way
+into the attic once before. She had seen him that very afternoon,
+sitting disconsolately on a table before a window in the Indian
+gentleman's house.
+
+"Suppose," she whispered in pleased excitement--"just suppose it was the
+monkey who had got away again. Oh, I wish it was!"
+
+She climbed on a chair, very cautiously raised the skylight, and peeped
+out. It had been snowing all day, and on the snow, quite near her,
+crouched a tiny, shivering figure, whose small black face wrinkled
+itself piteously at sight of her.
+
+"It _is_ the monkey," she cried out. "He has crept out of the Lascar's
+attic, and he saw the light."
+
+Becky ran to her side.
+
+"Are you going to let him in, miss?" she said.
+
+"Yes," Sara answered joyfully. "It's too cold for monkeys to be out.
+They're delicate. I'll coax him in."
+
+She put a hand out delicately, speaking in a coaxing voice--as she spoke
+to the sparrows and to Melchisedec--as if she were some friendly little
+animal herself and lovingly understood their timid wildness.
+
+"Come along, monkey darling," she said. "I won't hurt you."
+
+He knew she would not hurt him. He knew it before she laid her soft,
+caressing little paw on him and drew him toward her. He had felt human
+love in the slim brown hands of Ram Dass, and he felt it in hers. He let
+her lift him through the skylight, and when he found himself in her arms
+he cuddled up to her breast and took friendly hold of a piece of her
+hair, looking up into her face.
+
+"Nice monkey! Nice monkey!" she crooned, kissing his funny head. "Oh, I
+do love little animal things."
+
+[Illustration: She sat down and held him on her knee.]
+
+He was evidently glad to get to the fire, and when she sat down and held
+him on her knee he looked from her to Becky with mingled interest and
+appreciation.
+
+"He _is_ plain-looking, miss, ain't he?" said Becky.
+
+"He looks like a very ugly baby," laughed Sara. "I beg your pardon,
+monkey; but I'm glad you are not a baby. Your mother _couldn't_ be proud
+of you, and no one would dare to say you looked like any of your
+relations. Oh, I do like you!"
+
+She leaned back in her chair and reflected.
+
+"Perhaps he's sorry he's so ugly," she said, "and it's always on his
+mind. I wonder if he _has_ a mind. Monkey, my love, have you a mind?"
+
+But the monkey only put up a tiny paw and scratched his head.
+
+"What shall you do with him?" Becky asked.
+
+"I shall let him sleep with me to-night, and then take him back to the
+Indian gentleman to-morrow. I am sorry to take you back, monkey; but you
+must go. You ought to be fondest of your own family; and I'm not a
+_real_ relation."
+
+And when she went to bed she made him a nest at her feet, and he curled
+up and slept there as if he were a baby and much pleased with his
+quarters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+"IT IS THE CHILD!"
+
+
+The next afternoon three members of the Large Family sat in the Indian
+gentleman's library, doing their best to cheer him up. They had been
+allowed to come in to perform this office because he had specially
+invited them. He had been living in a state of suspense for some time,
+and to-day he was waiting for a certain event very anxiously. This event
+was the return of Mr. Carmichael from Moscow. His stay there had been
+prolonged from week to week. On his first arrival there, he had not been
+able satisfactorily to trace the family he had gone in search of. When
+he felt at last sure that he had found them and had gone to their house,
+he had been told that they were absent on a journey. His efforts to
+reach them had been unavailing, so he had decided to remain in Moscow
+until their return. Mr. Carrisford sat in his reclining-chair, and Janet
+sat on the floor beside him. He was very fond of Janet. Nora had found a
+footstool, and Donald was astride the tiger's head which ornamented the
+rug made of the animal's skin. It must be owned that he was riding it
+rather violently.
+
+"Don't chirrup so loud, Donald," Janet said. "When you come to cheer an
+ill person up you don't cheer him up at the top of your voice. Perhaps
+cheering up is too loud, Mr. Carrisford?" turning to the Indian
+gentleman.
+
+But he only patted her shoulder.
+
+"No, it isn't," he answered. "And it keeps me from thinking too much."
+
+"I'm going to be quiet," Donald shouted. "We'll all be as quiet as
+mice."
+
+"Mice don't make a noise like that," said Janet.
+
+Donald made a bridle of his handkerchief and bounced up and down on the
+tiger's head.
+
+"A whole lot of mice might," he said cheerfully. "A thousand mice
+might."
+
+"I don't believe fifty thousand mice would," said Janet, severely; "and
+we have to be as quiet as _one_ mouse."
+
+Mr. Carrisford laughed and patted her shoulder again.
+
+"Papa won't be very long now," she said. "May we talk about the lost
+little girl?"
+
+"I don't think I could talk much about anything else just now," the
+Indian gentleman answered, knitting his forehead with a tired look.
+
+"We like her so much," said Nora. "We call her the little _un_-fairy
+princess."
+
+"Why?" the Indian gentleman inquired, because the fancies of the Large
+Family always made him forget things a little.
+
+It was Janet who answered.
+
+"It is because, though she is not exactly a fairy, she will be so rich
+when she is found that she will be like a princess in a fairy tale. We
+called her the fairy princess at first, but it didn't quite suit."
+
+"Is it true," said Nora, "that her papa gave all his money to a friend
+to put in a mine that had diamonds in it, and then the friend thought he
+had lost it all and ran away because he felt as if he was a robber?"
+
+"But he wasn't really, you know," put in Janet, hastily.
+
+The Indian gentleman took hold of her hand quickly.
+
+"No, he wasn't really," he said.
+
+"I am sorry for the friend," Janet said; "I can't help it. He didn't
+mean to do it, and it would break his heart. I am sure it would break
+his heart."
+
+"You are an understanding little woman, Janet," the Indian gentleman
+said, and he held her hand close.
+
+"Did you tell Mr. Carrisford," Donald shouted again, "about the
+little-girl-who-isn't-a-beggar? Did you tell him she has new nice
+clothes? P'r'aps she's been found by somebody when she was lost."
+
+"There's a cab!" exclaimed Janet. "It's stopping before the door. It is
+papa!"
+
+They all ran to the windows to look out.
+
+"Yes, it's papa," Donald proclaimed. "But there is no little girl."
+
+All three of them incontinently fled from the room and tumbled into the
+hall. It was in this way they always welcomed their father. They were to
+be heard jumping up and down, clapping their hands, and being caught up
+and kissed.
+
+Mr. Carrisford made an effort to rise and sank back again into his
+chair.
+
+"It is no use," he said. "What a wreck I am!"
+
+Mr. Carmichael's voice approached the door.
+
+"No, children," he was saying; "you may come in after I have talked to
+Mr. Carrisford. Go and play with Ram Dass."
+
+Then the door opened and he came in. He looked rosier than ever, and
+brought an atmosphere of freshness and health with him; but his eyes
+were disappointed and anxious as they met the invalid's look of eager
+question even as they grasped each other's hands.
+
+"What news?" Mr. Carrisford asked. "The child the Russian people
+adopted?"
+
+"She is not the child we are looking for," was Mr. Carmichael's answer.
+"She is much younger than Captain Crewe's little girl. Her name is Emily
+Carew. I have seen and talked to her. The Russians were able to give me
+every detail."
+
+How wearied and miserable the Indian gentleman looked! His hand dropped
+from Mr. Carmichael's.
+
+"Then the search has to be begun over again," he said. "That is all.
+Please sit down."
+
+Mr. Carmichael took a seat. Somehow, he had gradually grown fond of this
+unhappy man. He was himself so well and happy, and so surrounded by
+cheerfulness and love, that desolation and broken health seemed
+pitifully unbearable things. If there had been the sound of just one gay
+little high-pitched voice in the house, it would have been so much less
+forlorn. And that a man should be compelled to carry about in his breast
+the thought that he had seemed to wrong and desert a child was not a
+thing one could face.
+
+"Come, come," he said in his cheery voice; "we'll find her yet."
+
+"We must begin at once. No time must be lost," Mr. Carrisford fretted.
+"Have you any new suggestion to make--any whatsoever?"
+
+Mr. Carmichael felt rather restless, and he rose and began to pace the
+room with a thoughtful, though uncertain face.
+
+"Well, perhaps," he said. "I don't know what it may be worth. The fact
+is, an idea occurred to me as I was thinking the thing over in the train
+on the journey from Dover."
+
+"What was it? If she is alive, she is somewhere."
+
+"Yes; she is _somewhere_. We have searched the schools in Paris. Let us
+give up Paris and begin in London. That was my idea--to search London."
+
+"There are schools enough in London," said Mr. Carrisford. Then he
+slightly started, roused by a recollection. "By the way, there is one
+next door."
+
+"Then we will begin there. We cannot begin nearer than next door."
+
+"No," said Carrisford. "There is a child there who interests me; but she
+is not a pupil. And she is a little dark, forlorn creature, as unlike
+poor Crewe as a child could be."
+
+Perhaps the Magic was at work again at that very moment--the beautiful
+Magic. It really seemed as if it might be so. What was it that brought
+Ram Dass into the room--even as his master spoke--salaaming
+respectfully, but with a scarcely concealed touch of excitement in his
+dark, flashing eyes?
+
+"Sahib," he said, "the child herself has come--the child the sahib felt
+pity for. She brings back the monkey who had again run away to her attic
+under the roof. I have asked that she remain. It was my thought that it
+would please the sahib to see and speak with her."
+
+"Who is she?" inquired Mr. Carmichael.
+
+"God knows," Mr. Carrisford answered. "She is the child I spoke of.
+A little drudge at the school." He waved his hand to Ram Dass, and
+addressed him. "Yes, I should like to see her. Go and bring her in."
+Then he turned to Mr. Carmichael. "While you have been away," he
+explained, "I have been desperate. The days were so dark and long.
+Ram Dass told me of this child's miseries, and together we invented a
+romantic plan to help her. I suppose it was a childish thing to do; but
+it gave me something to plan and think of. Without the help of an agile,
+soft-footed Oriental like Ram Dass, however, it could not have been
+done."
+
+Then Sara came into the room. She carried the monkey in her arms, and
+he evidently did not intend to part from her, if it could be helped.
+He was clinging to her and chattering, and the interesting excitement
+of finding herself in the Indian gentleman's room had brought a flush
+to Sara's cheeks.
+
+"Your monkey ran away again," she said, in her pretty voice. "He came
+to my garret window last night, and I took him in because it was so
+cold. I would have brought him back if it had not been so late. I knew
+you were ill and might not like to be disturbed."
+
+The Indian gentleman's hollow eyes dwelt on her with curious interest.
+
+"That was very thoughtful of you," he said.
+
+Sara looked toward Ram Dass, who stood near the door.
+
+"Shall I give him to the Lascar?" she asked.
+
+"How do you know he is a Lascar?" said the Indian gentleman, smiling a
+little.
+
+"Oh, I know Lascars," Sara said, handing over the reluctant monkey. "I
+was born in India."
+
+The Indian gentleman sat upright so suddenly, and with such a change of
+expression, that she was for a moment quite startled.
+
+"You were born in India," he exclaimed, "were you? Come here." And he
+held out his hand.
+
+Sara went to him and laid her hand in his, as he seemed to want to take
+it. She stood still, and her green-gray eyes met his wonderingly.
+Something seemed to be the matter with him.
+
+"You live next door?" he demanded.
+
+"Yes; I live at Miss Minchin's seminary."
+
+"But you are not one of her pupils?"
+
+A strange little smile hovered about Sara's mouth. She hesitated a
+moment.
+
+"I don't think I know exactly _what_ I am," she replied.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"At first I was a pupil, and a parlor-boarder; but now--"
+
+"You were a pupil! What are you now?"
+
+The queer little sad smile was on Sara's lips again.
+
+"I sleep in the attic, next to the scullery-maid," she said. "I run
+errands for the cook--I do anything she tells me; and I teach the little
+ones their lessons."
+
+"Question her, Carmichael," said Mr. Carrisford, sinking back as if he
+had lost his strength. "Question her; I cannot."
+
+The big, kind father of the Large Family knew how to question little
+girls. Sara realized how much practice he had had when he spoke to her
+in his nice, encouraging voice.
+
+"What do you mean by 'At first,' my child?" he inquired.
+
+"When I was first taken there by my papa."
+
+"Where is your papa?"
+
+"He died," said Sara, very quietly. "He lost all his money and there was
+none left for me. There was no one to take care of me or to pay Miss
+Minchin."
+
+"Carmichael!" the Indian gentleman cried out loudly; "Carmichael!"
+
+"We must not frighten her," Mr. Carmichael said aside to him in a quick,
+low voice; and he added aloud to Sara: "So you were sent up into the
+attic, and made into a little drudge. That was about it, wasn't it?"
+
+"There was no one to take care of me," said Sara. "There was no money; I
+belong to nobody."
+
+"How did your father lose his money?" the Indian gentleman broke in
+breathlessly.
+
+"He did not lose it himself," Sara answered, wondering still more each
+moment. "He had a friend he was very fond of--he was _very_ fond of him.
+It was his friend who took his money. He trusted his friend too much."
+
+The Indian gentleman's breath came more quickly.
+
+"The friend might have _meant_ to do no harm," he said. "It might have
+happened through a mistake."
+
+Sara did not know how unrelenting her quiet young voice sounded as she
+answered. If she had known, she would surely have tried to soften it for
+the Indian gentleman's sake.
+
+"The suffering was just as bad for my papa," she said. "It killed him."
+
+"What was your father's name?" the Indian gentleman said. "Tell me."
+
+"His name was Ralph Crewe," Sara answered, feeling startled. "Captain
+Crewe. He died in India."
+
+The haggard face contracted, and Ram Dass sprang to his master's side.
+
+"Carmichael," the invalid gasped, "it is the child--the child!"
+
+For a moment Sara thought he was going to die. Ram Dass poured out drops
+from a bottle, and held them to his lips. Sara stood near, trembling a
+little. She looked in a bewildered way at Mr. Carmichael.
+
+"What child am I?" she faltered.
+
+"He was your father's friend," Mr. Carmichael answered her. "Don't be
+frightened. We have been looking for you for two years."
+
+Sara put her hand up to her forehead, and her mouth trembled. She spoke
+as if she were in a dream.
+
+"And I was at Miss Minchin's all the while," she half whispered. "Just
+on the other side of the wall."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+"I TRIED NOT TO BE"
+
+
+It was pretty, comfortable Mrs. Carmichael who explained everything. She
+was sent for at once, and came across the square to take Sara into her
+warm arms and make clear to her all that had happened. The excitement of
+the totally unexpected discovery had been temporarily almost
+overpowering to Mr. Carrisford in his weak condition.
+
+"Upon my word," he said faintly to Mr. Carmichael, when it was suggested
+that the little girl should go into another room, "I feel as if I do not
+want to lose sight of her."
+
+"I will take care of her," Janet said, "and mamma will come in a few
+minutes." And it was Janet who led her away.
+
+"We're so glad you are found," she said. "You don't know how glad we are
+that you are found."
+
+Donald stood with his hands in his pockets, and gazed at Sara with
+reflecting and self-reproachful eyes.
+
+"If I'd just asked what your name was when I gave you my sixpence," he
+said, "you would have told me it was Sara Crewe, and then you would
+have been found in a minute."
+
+Then Mrs. Carmichael came in. She looked very much moved, and suddenly
+took Sara in her arms and kissed her.
+
+"You look bewildered, poor child," she said. "And it is not to be
+wondered at."
+
+Sara could only think of one thing.
+
+"Was he," she said, with a glance toward the closed door of the
+library--"was _he_ the wicked friend? Oh, do tell me!"
+
+Mrs. Carmichael was crying as she kissed her again. She felt as if she
+ought to be kissed very often because she had not been kissed for so
+long.
+
+"He was not wicked, my dear," she answered. "He did not really lose your
+papa's money. He only thought he had lost it; and because he loved him
+so much his grief made him so ill that for a time he was not in his
+right mind. He almost died of brain-fever, and long before he began to
+recover your poor papa was dead."
+
+"And he did not know where to find me," murmured Sara. "And I was so
+near." Somehow, she could not forget that she had been so near.
+
+"He believed you were in school in France," Mrs. Carmichael explained.
+"And he was continually misled by false clues. He has looked for you
+everywhere. When he saw you pass by, looking so sad and neglected, he
+did not dream that you were his friend's poor child; but because you
+were a little girl, too, he was sorry for you, and wanted to make you
+happier. And he told Ram Dass to climb into your attic window and try
+to make you comfortable."
+
+Sara gave a start of joy; her whole look changed.
+
+"Did Ram Dass bring the things?" she cried out; "did he tell Ram Dass to
+do it? Did he make the dream that came true!"
+
+"Yes, my dear--yes! He is kind and good, and he was sorry for you, for
+little lost Sara Crewe's sake."
+
+The library door opened and Mr. Carmichael appeared, calling Sara to him
+with a gesture.
+
+"Mr. Carrisford is better already," he said. "He wants you to come to
+him."
+
+Sara did not wait. When the Indian gentleman looked at her as she
+entered, he saw that her face was all alight.
+
+She went and stood before his chair, with her hands clasped together
+against her breast.
+
+"You sent the things to me," she said, in a joyful emotional little
+voice--"the beautiful, beautiful things? _You_ sent them!"
+
+"Yes, poor, dear child, I did," he answered her. He was weak and broken
+with long illness and trouble, but he looked at her with the look she
+remembered in her father's eyes--that look of loving her and wanting to
+take her in his arms. It made her kneel down by him, just as she used to
+kneel by her father when they were the dearest friends and lovers in the
+world.
+
+"Then it is you who are my friend," she said; "it is you who are my
+friend!" And she dropped her face on his thin hand and kissed it again
+and again.
+
+"The man will be himself again in three weeks," Mr. Carmichael said
+aside to his wife. "Look at his face already."
+
+In fact, he did look changed. Here was the "little missus," and he had
+new things to think of and plan for already. In the first place, there
+was Miss Minchin. She must be interviewed and told of the change which
+had taken place in the fortunes of her pupil.
+
+Sara was not to return to the seminary at all. The Indian gentleman was
+very determined upon that point. She must remain where she was, and Mr.
+Carmichael should go and see Miss Minchin himself.
+
+"I am glad I need not go back," said Sara. "She will be very angry. She
+does not like me; though perhaps it is my fault, because I do not like
+her."
+
+But, oddly enough, Miss Minchin made it unnecessary for Mr. Carmichael
+to go to her, by actually coming in search of her pupil herself. She had
+wanted Sara for something, and on inquiry had heard an astonishing
+thing. One of the housemaids had seen her steal out of the area with
+something hidden under her cloak, and had also seen her go up the steps
+of the next door and enter the house.
+
+"What does she mean!" cried Miss Minchin to Miss Amelia.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure, sister," answered Miss Amelia. "Unless she has
+made friends with him because he has lived in India."
+
+"It would be just like her to thrust herself upon him and try to gain
+his sympathies in some such impertinent fashion," said Miss Minchin.
+"She must have been in the house two hours. I will not allow such
+presumption. I shall go and inquire into the matter, and apologize for
+her intrusion."
+
+Sara was sitting on a footstool close to Mr. Carrisford's knee, and
+listening to some of the many things he felt it necessary to try to
+explain to her, when Ram Dass announced the visitor's arrival.
+
+Sara rose involuntarily, and became rather pale; but Mr. Carrisford saw
+that she stood quietly, and showed none of the ordinary signs of child
+terror.
+
+Miss Minchin entered the room with a sternly dignified manner. She was
+correctly and well dressed, and rigidly polite.
+
+"I am sorry to disturb Mr. Carrisford," she said; "but I have
+explanations to make. I am Miss Minchin, the proprietress of the Young
+Ladies' Seminary next door."
+
+The Indian gentleman looked at her for a moment in silent scrutiny. He
+was a man who had naturally a rather hot temper, and he did not wish it
+to get too much the better of him.
+
+"So you are Miss Minchin?" he said.
+
+"I am, sir."
+
+"In that case," the Indian gentleman replied, "you have arrived at the
+right time. My solicitor, Mr. Carmichael, was just on the point of going
+to see you."
+
+Mr. Carmichael bowed slightly, and Miss Minchin looked from him to Mr.
+Carrisford in amazement.
+
+"Your solicitor!" she said. "I do not understand. I have come here as a
+matter of duty. I have just discovered that you have been intruded upon
+through the forwardness of one of my pupils--a charity pupil. I came to
+explain that she intruded without my knowledge." She turned upon Sara.
+"Go home at once," she commanded indignantly. "You shall be severely
+punished. Go home at once."
+
+The Indian gentleman drew Sara to his side and patted her hand.
+
+"She is not going."
+
+Miss Minchin felt rather as if she must be losing her senses.
+
+"Not going!" she repeated.
+
+"No," said Mr. Carrisford. "She is not going _home_--if you give your
+house that name. Her home for the future will be with me."
+
+Miss Minchin fell back in amazed indignation.
+
+"With _you_! With _you_, sir! What does this mean?"
+
+"Kindly explain the matter, Carmichael," said the Indian gentleman; "and
+get it over as quickly as possible." And he made Sara sit down again,
+and held her hands in his--which was another trick of her papa's.
+
+Then Mr. Carmichael explained--in the quiet, level-toned, steady manner
+of a man who knew his subject, and all its legal significance, which was
+a thing Miss Minchin understood as a business woman, and did not enjoy.
+
+"Mr. Carrisford, madam," he said, "was an intimate friend of the late
+Captain Crewe. He was his partner in certain large investments. The
+fortune which Captain Crewe supposed he had lost has been recovered,
+and is now in Mr. Carrisford's hands."
+
+"The fortune!" cried Miss Minchin; and she really lost color as she
+uttered the exclamation. "Sara's fortune!"
+
+"It _will_ be Sara's fortune," replied Mr. Carmichael, rather coldly.
+"It _is_ Sara's fortune now, in fact. Certain events have increased it
+enormously. The diamond-mines have retrieved themselves."
+
+"The diamond-mines!" Miss Minchin gasped out. If this was true, nothing
+so horrible, she felt, had ever happened to her since she was born.
+
+"The diamond-mines," Mr. Carmichael repeated, and he could not help
+adding, with a rather sly, unlawyer-like smile: "There are not many
+princesses, Miss Minchin, who are richer than your little charity pupil,
+Sara Crewe, will be. Mr. Carrisford has been searching for her for
+nearly two years; he has found her at last, and he will keep her."
+
+After which he asked Miss Minchin to sit down while he explained matters
+to her fully, and went into such detail as was necessary to make it
+quite clear to her that Sara's future was an assured one, and that what
+had seemed to be lost was to be restored to her tenfold; also, that she
+had in Mr. Carrisford a guardian as well as a friend.
+
+Miss Minchin was not a clever woman, and in her excitement she was silly
+enough to make one desperate effort to regain what she could not help
+seeing she had lost through her own worldly folly.
+
+"He found her under my care," she protested. "I have done everything
+for her. But for me she would have starved in the streets."
+
+Here the Indian gentleman lost his temper.
+
+"As to starving in the streets," he said, "she might have starved more
+comfortably there than in your attic."
+
+"Captain Crewe left her in my charge," Miss Minchin argued. "She must
+return to it until she is of age. She can be a parlor-boarder again. She
+must finish her education. The law will interfere in my behalf."
+
+"Come, come, Miss Minchin," Mr. Carmichael interposed, "the law will do
+nothing of the sort. If Sara herself wishes to return to you, I dare say
+Mr. Carrisford might not refuse to allow it. But that rests with Sara."
+
+"Then," said Miss Minchin, "I appeal to Sara. I have not spoiled you,
+perhaps," she said awkwardly to the little girl; "but you know that your
+papa was pleased with your progress. And--ahem!--I have always been fond
+of you."
+
+Sara's green-gray eyes fixed themselves on her with the quiet, clear
+look Miss Minchin particularly disliked.
+
+"Have _you_, Miss Minchin?" she said; "I did not know that."
+
+Miss Minchin reddened and drew herself up.
+
+"You ought to have known it," said she; "but children, unfortunately,
+never know what is best for them. Amelia and I always said you were the
+cleverest child in the school. Will you not do your duty to your poor
+papa and come home with me?"
+
+Sara took a step toward her and stood still. She was thinking of the
+day when she had been told that she belonged to nobody, and was in
+danger of being turned into the street; she was thinking of the cold,
+hungry hours she had spent alone with Emily and Melchisedec in the
+attic. She looked Miss Minchin steadily in the face.
+
+"You know why I will not go home with you, Miss Minchin," she said; "you
+know quite well."
+
+A hot flush showed itself on Miss Minchin's hard, angry face.
+
+"You will never see your companions again," she began. "I will see that
+Ermengarde and Lottie are kept away--"
+
+Mr. Carmichael stopped her with polite firmness.
+
+"Excuse me," he said; "she will see any one she wishes to see. The
+parents of Miss Crewe's fellow-pupils are not likely to refuse her
+invitations to visit her at her guardian's house. Mr. Carrisford will
+attend to that."
+
+It must be confessed that even Miss Minchin flinched. This was worse
+than the eccentric bachelor uncle who might have a peppery temper and be
+easily offended at the treatment of his niece. A woman of sordid mind
+could easily believe that most people would not refuse to allow their
+children to remain friends with a little heiress of diamond-mines. And
+if Mr. Carrisford chose to tell certain of her patrons how unhappy Sara
+Crewe had been made, many unpleasant things might happen.
+
+"You have not undertaken an easy charge," she said to the Indian
+gentleman, as she turned to leave the room; "you will discover that very
+soon. The child is neither truthful nor grateful. I suppose"--to
+Sara--"that you feel now that you are a princess again."
+
+Sara looked down and flushed a little, because she thought her pet fancy
+might not be easy for strangers--even nice ones--to understand at first.
+
+"I--tried not to be anything else," she answered in a low voice--"even
+when I was coldest and hungriest--I _tried_ not to be."
+
+"Now it will not be necessary to try," said Miss Minchin, acidly, as Ram
+Dass salaamed her out of the room.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+She returned home and, going to her sitting-room, sent at once for Miss
+Amelia. She sat closeted with her all the rest of the afternoon, and it
+must be admitted that poor Miss Amelia passed through more than one bad
+quarter of an hour. She shed a good many tears, and mopped her eyes a
+good deal. One of her unfortunate remarks almost caused her sister to
+snap her head entirely off, but it resulted in an unusual manner.
+
+"I'm not as clever as you, sister," she said, "and I am always afraid to
+say things to you for fear of making you angry. Perhaps if I were not so
+timid it would be better for the school and for both of us. I must say
+I've often thought it would have been better if you had been less severe
+on Sara Crewe, and had seen that she was decently dressed and more
+comfortable. I know she was worked too hard for a child of her age, and
+I _know_ she was only half fed--"
+
+"How dare you say such a thing!" exclaimed Miss Minchin.
+
+"I don't know how I dare," Miss Amelia answered, with a kind of reckless
+courage; "but now I've begun I may as well finish, whatever happens to
+me. The child was a clever child and a good child--and she would have
+paid you for any kindness you had shown her. But you didn't show her
+any. The fact was, she was too clever for you, and you always disliked
+her for that reason. She used to see through us both--"
+
+"Amelia!" gasped her infuriated elder, looking as if she would box her
+ears and knock her cap off, as she had often done to Becky.
+
+But Miss Amelia's disappointment had made her hysterical enough not to
+care what occurred next.
+
+"She did! She did!" she cried. "She saw through us both. She saw that
+you were a hard-hearted, worldly woman, and that I was a weak fool, and
+that we were both of us vulgar and mean enough to grovel on our knees
+before her money, and behave ill to her because it was taken from
+her--though she behaved herself like a little princess even when she was
+a beggar. She did--she did--like a little princess!" and her hysterics
+got the better of the poor woman, and she began to laugh and cry both at
+once, and rock herself backward and forward in such a way as made Miss
+Minchin stare aghast.
+
+"And now you've lost her," she cried wildly; "and some other school will
+get her and her money; and if she were like any other child she'd tell
+how she's been treated, and all our pupils would be taken away and we
+should be ruined. And it serves us right; but it serves you right more
+than it does me, for you are a hard woman, Maria Minchin--you're a hard,
+selfish, worldly woman!"
+
+And she was in danger of making so much noise with her hysterical chokes
+and gurgles that her sister was obliged to go to her and apply salts and
+sal volatile to quiet her, instead of pouring forth her indignation at
+her audacity.
+
+And from that time forward, it may be mentioned, the elder Miss Minchin
+actually began to stand a little in awe of a sister who, while she
+looked so foolish, was evidently not quite so foolish as she looked, and
+might, consequently, break out and speak truths people did not want to
+hear.
+
+That evening, when the pupils were gathered together before the fire in
+the school-room, as was their custom before going to bed, Ermengarde
+came in with a letter in her hand and a queer expression on her round
+face. It was queer because, while it was an expression of delighted
+excitement, it was combined with such amazement as seemed to belong to
+a kind of shock just received.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" cried two or three voices at once.
+
+"Is it anything to do with the row that has been going on?" said
+Lavinia, eagerly. "There has been such a row in Miss Minchin's room,
+Miss Amelia has had something like hysterics and has had to go to bed."
+
+Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half stunned.
+
+"I have just had this letter from Sara," she said, holding it out to let
+them see what a long letter it was.
+
+"From Sara!" Every voice joined in that exclamation.
+
+"Where is she?" almost shrieked Jessie.
+
+"Next door," said Ermengarde, still slowly; "with the Indian gentleman."
+
+"Where? Where? Has she been sent away? Does Miss Minchin know? Was the
+row about that? Why did she write? Tell us! Tell us!"
+
+There was a perfect babel, and Lottie began to cry plaintively.
+
+Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half plunged out into
+what, at the moment, seemed the most important and self-explaining
+thing.
+
+"There _were_ diamond-mines," she said stoutly; "there _were_!"
+
+Open mouths and open eyes confronted her.
+
+"They were real," she hurried on. "It was all a mistake about them.
+Something happened for a time, and Mr. Carrisford thought they were
+ruined--"
+
+"Who is Mr. Carrisford?" shouted Jessie.
+
+"The Indian gentleman. And Captain Crewe thought so, too--and he died;
+and Mr. Carrisford had brain-fever and ran away, and _he_ almost died.
+And he did not know where Sara was. And it turned out that there were
+millions and millions of diamonds in the mines; and half of them belong
+to Sara; and they belonged to her when she was living in the attic with
+no one but Melchisedec for a friend, and the cook ordering her about.
+And Mr. Carrisford found her this afternoon, and he has got her in his
+home--and she will never come back--and she will be more a princess than
+she ever was--a hundred and fifty thousand times more. And I am going to
+see her to-morrow afternoon. There!"
+
+Even Miss Minchin herself could scarcely have controlled the uproar
+after this; and though she heard the noise, she did not try. She was not
+in the mood to face anything more than she was facing in her room, while
+Miss Amelia was weeping in bed. She knew that the news had penetrated
+the walls in some mysterious manner, and that every servant and every
+child would go to bed talking about it.
+
+So until almost midnight the entire seminary, realizing somehow that all
+rules were laid aside, crowded round Ermengarde in the school-room and
+heard read and re-read the letter containing a story which was quite as
+wonderful as any Sara herself had ever invented, and which had the
+amazing charm of having happened to Sara herself and the mystic Indian
+gentleman in the very next house.
+
+Becky, who had heard it also, managed to creep up-stairs earlier than
+usual. She wanted to get away from people and go and look at the little
+magic room once more. She did not know what would happen to it. It was
+not likely that it would be left to Miss Minchin. It would be taken
+away, and the attic would be bare and empty again. Glad as she was for
+Sara's sake, she went up the last flight of stairs with a lump in her
+throat and tears blurring her sight. There would be no fire to-night,
+and no rosy lamp; no supper, and no princess sitting in the glow
+reading or telling stories--no princess!
+
+She choked down a sob as she pushed the attic door open, and then she
+broke into a low cry.
+
+The lamp was flushing the room, the fire was blazing, the supper was
+waiting; and Ram Dass was standing smiling into her startled face.
+
+"Missee sahib remembered," he said. "She told the sahib all. She wished
+you to know the good fortune which has befallen her. Behold a letter on
+the tray. She has written. She did not wish that you should go to sleep
+unhappy. The sahib commands you to come to him to-morrow. You are to be
+the attendant of missee sahib. To-night I take these things back over
+the roof."
+
+And having said this with a beaming face, he made a little salaam and
+slipped through the skylight with an agile silentness of movement which
+showed Becky how easily he had done it before.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+"ANNE"
+
+
+Never had such joy reigned in the nursery of the Large Family. Never had
+they dreamed of such delights as resulted from an intimate acquaintance
+with the little-girl-who-was-not-a-beggar. The mere fact of her
+sufferings and adventures made her a priceless possession. Everybody
+wanted to be told over and over again the things which had happened to
+her. When one was sitting by a warm fire in a big, glowing room, it was
+quite delightful to hear how cold it could be in an attic. It must be
+admitted that the attic was rather delighted in, and that its coldness
+and bareness quite sank into insignificance when Melchisedec was
+remembered, and one heard about the sparrows and things one could see if
+one climbed on the table and stuck one's head and shoulders out of the
+skylight.
+
+Of course the thing loved best was the story of the banquet and the
+dream which was true. Sara told it for the first time the day after she
+had been found. Several members of the Large Family came to take tea
+with her, and as they sat or curled up on the hearth-rug she told the
+story in her own way, and the Indian gentleman listened and watched
+her. When she had finished she looked up at him and put her hand on his
+knee.
+
+"That is my part," she said. "Now won't you tell your part of it, Uncle
+Tom?" He had asked her to call him always "Uncle Tom." "I don't know
+your part yet, and it must be beautiful."
+
+So he told them how, when he sat alone, ill and dull and irritable, Ram
+Dass had tried to distract him by describing the passers by, and there
+was one child who passed oftener than any one else; he had begun to be
+interested in her--partly perhaps because he was thinking a great deal
+of a little girl, and partly because Ram Dass had been able to relate
+the incident of his visit to the attic in chase of the monkey. He had
+described its cheerless look, and the bearing of the child, who seemed
+as if she was not of the class of those who were treated as drudges
+and servants. Bit by bit, Ram Dass had made discoveries concerning the
+wretchedness of her life. He had found out how easy a matter it was to
+climb across the few yards of roof to the skylight, and this fact had
+been the beginning of all that followed.
+
+"Sahib," he had said one day, "I could cross the slates and make the
+child a fire when she is out on some errand. When she returned, wet and
+cold, to find it blazing, she would think a magician had done it."
+
+The idea had been so fanciful that Mr. Carrisford's sad face had lighted
+with a smile, and Ram Dass had been so filled with rapture that he had
+enlarged upon it and explained to his master how simple it would be to
+accomplish numbers of other things. He had shown a childlike pleasure
+and invention, and the preparations for the carrying out of the plan
+had filled many a day with interest which would otherwise have dragged
+wearily. On the night of the frustrated banquet Ram Dass had kept watch,
+all his packages being in readiness in the attic which was his own; and
+the person who was to help him had waited with him, as interested as
+himself in the odd adventure. Ram Dass had been lying flat upon the
+slates, looking in at the skylight, when the banquet had come to its
+disastrous conclusion; he had been sure of the profoundness of Sara's
+wearied sleep; and then, with a dark lantern, he had crept into the
+room, while his companion had remained outside and handed the things
+to him. When Sara had stirred ever so faintly, Ram Dass had closed
+the lantern-slide and lain flat upon the floor. These and many other
+exciting things the children found out by asking a thousand questions.
+
+"I am so glad," Sara said. "I am so _glad_ it was you who were my
+friend!"
+
+There never were such friends as these two became. Somehow, they seemed
+to suit each other in a wonderful way. The Indian gentleman had never
+had a companion he liked quite as much as he liked Sara. In a month's
+time he was, as Mr. Carmichael had prophesied he would be, a new man.
+He was always amused and interested, and he began to find an actual
+pleasure in the possession of the wealth he had imagined that he loathed
+the burden of. There were so many charming things to plan for Sara.
+There was a little joke between them that he was a magician, and it
+was one of his pleasures to invent things to surprise her. She found
+beautiful new flowers growing in her room, whimsical little gifts tucked
+under pillows, and once, as they sat together in the evening, they heard
+the scratch of a heavy paw on the door, and when Sara went to find out
+what it was, there stood a great dog--a splendid Russian boarhound--with
+a grand silver and gold collar bearing an inscription in raised letters.
+"I am Boris," it read; "I serve the Princess Sara."
+
+There was nothing the Indian gentleman loved more than the recollection
+of the little princess in rags and tatters. The afternoons in which the
+Large Family, or Ermengarde and Lottie, gathered to rejoice together
+were very delightful. But the hours when Sara and the Indian gentleman
+sat alone and read or talked had a special charm of their own. During
+their passing many interesting things occurred.
+
+[Illustration: Noticed that his companion ... sat gazing into the fire.]
+
+One evening, Mr. Carrisford, looking up from his book, noticed that his
+companion had not stirred for some time, but sat gazing into the fire.
+
+"What are you 'supposing,' Sara?" he asked.
+
+Sara looked up, with a bright color on her cheek.
+
+"I _was_ supposing," she said; "I was remembering that hungry day, and a
+child I saw."
+
+"But there were a great many hungry days," said the Indian gentleman,
+with rather a sad tone in his voice. "Which hungry day was it?"
+
+"I forgot you didn't know," said Sara. "It was the day the dream came
+true."
+
+Then she told him the story of the bun-shop, and the fourpence she
+picked up out of the sloppy mud, and the child who was hungrier than
+herself. She told it quite simply, and in as few words as possible; but
+somehow the Indian gentleman found it necessary to shade his eyes with
+his hand and look down at the carpet.
+
+"And I was supposing a kind of plan," she said, when she had finished.
+"I was thinking I should like to do something."
+
+"What was it?" said Mr. Carrisford, in a low tone. "You may do anything
+you like to do, princess."
+
+"I was wondering," rather hesitated Sara--"you know, you say I have so
+much money--I was wondering if I could go to 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. Could I do that?"
+
+"You shall do it to-morrow morning," said the Indian gentleman.
+
+"Thank you," said Sara. "You see, I know what it is to be hungry, and it
+is very hard when one cannot even _pretend_ it away."
+
+"Yes, yes, my dear," said the Indian gentleman. "Yes, yes, it must be.
+Try to forget it. Come and sit on this footstool near my knee, and only
+remember you are a princess."
+
+"Yes," said Sara, smiling; "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) drew her small
+dark head down upon his knee and stroked her hair.
+
+The next morning, Miss Minchin, in looking out of her window, saw the
+thing she perhaps least enjoyed seeing. The Indian gentleman's carriage,
+with its tall horses, drew up before the door of the next house, and its
+owner and a little figure, warm with soft, rich furs, descended the
+steps to get into it. The little figure was a familiar one, and reminded
+Miss Minchin of days in the past. It was followed by another as
+familiar--the sight of which she found very irritating. It was Becky,
+who, in the character of delighted attendant, always accompanied her
+young mistress to her carriage, carrying wraps and belongings. Already
+Becky had a pink, round face.
+
+A little later the carriage drew up before the door of the baker's shop,
+and its occupants 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.
+
+"I'm sure that I remember you, miss," she said. "And yet--"
+
+"Yes," said Sara; "once you gave me six buns for fourpence, and--"
+
+"And you gave five of 'em to a beggar child," the woman broke in on
+her. "I've always remembered it. I couldn't make it out at first." She
+turned round to the Indian gentleman and spoke her next words to him. "I
+beg your 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,"--to Sara,--"but you look rosier and--well, better than
+you did that--that--"
+
+"I am better, thank you," said Sara. "And--I am much happier--and I have
+come to ask you to do something for me."
+
+"Me, miss!" exclaimed the bun-woman, smiling cheerfully. "Why, bless
+you! yes, miss. What can I do?"
+
+And then Sara, leaning on the counter, made her little proposal
+concerning the dreadful days and the hungry waifs and the hot buns.
+
+The woman watched her, and listened with an astonished face.
+
+"Why, bless me!" she said again when she had heard it all; "it'll be a
+pleasure to me to do it. I am a working-woman myself and cannot 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 away many
+a bit of bread since that wet afternoon, just along o' thinking of
+you--an' how wet an' cold you was, an' how hungry you looked; an' yet
+you gave away your hot buns as if you was a princess."
+
+The Indian gentleman smiled involuntarily at this, and Sara smiled a
+little, too, remembering what she had said to herself when she put the
+buns down on the ravenous child's ragged lap.
+
+"She looked so hungry," she said. "She was even hungrier than I was."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, have you seen her since then?" exclaimed Sara. "Do you know where
+she is?"
+
+"Yes, I do," answered the woman, smiling more good-naturedly than ever.
+"Why, she's in that there back room, miss, an' has been for a month; an'
+a decent, well-meanin' girl she's goin' to turn out, an' such a help to
+me in the shop an' in the kitchen as you'd scarce believe, knowin' how
+she's lived."
+
+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. She knew Sara in an instant, and stood and
+looked at her as if she could never look enough.
+
+"You see," said the woman, "I told her to come when she was hungry, and
+when she'd come I'd give her odd jobs to do; an' I found she was
+willing, and somehow I got to like her; and the end of it was, I've
+given her a place an' a home, and she helps me, an' behaves well, an' is
+as thankful as a girl can be. Her name's Anne. She has no other."
+
+The children stood and looked at each other for a few minutes; and then
+Sara took her hand out of her muff and held it out across the counter,
+and Anne took it, and they looked straight into each other's eyes.
+
+"I am so glad," Sara said. "And I have just thought of something.
+Perhaps Mrs. Brown will let you be the one to 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."
+
+"Yes, miss," said the girl.
+
+And, somehow, Sara felt as if she understood her, though she said so
+little, and only stood still and looked and looked after her as she went
+out of the shop with the Indian gentleman, and they got into the
+carriage and drove away.
+
+
+
+
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+are included in the Scribner Illustrated Classics. They are all books of
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+  A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
+
+      _By Eugene Field_
+  POEMS OF CHILDHOOD
+
+      _By Jules Verne_
+  MICHAEL STROGOFF
+  THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND
+  TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA
+
+      _By Frances Hodgson Burnett_
+  LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY
+  A LITTLE PRINCESS
+
+      _By J. M. Barrie_
+  PETER PAN AND WENDY
+
+          &
+
+  HANS BRINKER
+    _By_ MARY MAPES DODGE
+
+  THE DEERSLAYER
+    _By_ J. FENIMORE COOPER
+
+  QUENTIN DURWARD
+    _By_ SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart.
+
+  SMOKY
+    _By_ WILL JAMES
+
+  LONE COWBOY
+    _By_ WILL JAMES
+
+  DRUMS
+    _By_ JAMES BOYD
+
+  THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED
+    _By_ JAMES BALDWIN
+
+  THE CHILDREN'S BIBLE
+    _By_ HENRY A. SHERMAN _and_ CHARLES FOSTER KENT
+
+  JINGLEBOB
+    _By_ PHILIP ASHTON ROLLINS
+
+  THE STORY OF ROLAND
+    _By_ JAMES BALDWIN
+
+  THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME
+    _By_ JOHN FOX, JR.
+
+  THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS
+    _By_ JANE PORTER
+
+  WESTWARD HO!
+    _By_ CHARLES KINGSLEY
+
+  GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES
+
+  THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS
+    _By_ J. FENIMORE COOPER
+
+  THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR
+    _By_ SIDNEY LANIER
+
+  THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
+
+  THE CHILDREN OF DICKENS
+    _By_ SAMUEL MCCHORD CROTHERS
+
+  THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS
+    _By_ KENNETH GRAHAME
+
+  THE QUEEN'S MUSEUM AND OTHER FANCIFUL TALES
+    _By_ FRANK R. STOCKTON
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's notes: Spaces have been removed from contractions like
+"she 's" and "you 'd". Original spelling and hyphenation have been
+preserved. The illustrations have been moved slightly for reader
+convenience.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
+
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