Guided Reading - Over And Hour Of A Little Princess Cht 5,6,7

"A Little Princess" by Frances Hodgson Burnett is a children's novel published in 1905. When young Sara Crewe arrives at a London boarding school as a privileged pupil, she wins hearts with her imagination and kindness. But a sudden tragedy strips away her fortune, transforming her from pampered princess to starving servant. As the cruel headmistress exploits her and hardship tests her spirit, Sara clings to one belief: true nobility comes from character, not wealth. A mysterious benefactor watches from next door, harboring secrets that could change everything.

Published by Neworld Books
Adapted for audio by S D HUDSON
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Transcript

Chapter 5 Of course the greatest power Sarah 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. Anyone 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 around and hang on the outskirts of the favoured party in the hope of being allowed to join it and listen. Sarah 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'm 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 schoolroom. 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 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's 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 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, Sarah would have laughed in spite of herself. That very evening, As Sarah was sitting in the midst of a group of listeners in a corner of the schoolroom 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 half-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 she might make no disturbing noise, And she swept about the fire irons very softly. But Sarah 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 realising this, She raised her voice and spoke more clearly. The mermaid 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 great 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 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 storyteller went on and drew her with it into winding grottoes 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. Sarah 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 mama would like you to tell stories to servant girls, But I know my mama wouldn't like me to do it. My mama? Said Sarah, 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 mama was dead. How can she know things? Do you think she doesn't know things? Said Sarah in her stern little voice. Sometimes she had rather a stern little voice. Sarah's mother knows everything, Piped in Lottie. So does my mama, Except Sarah is my mama 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. Sarah tells me when she puts me to bed. You wicked thing, Said Lavinia, Turning on Sarah, Making fairy stories about heaven. There are much more splendid stories in Revelation, Returned Sarah. Just look and see. How do you know my nefarious 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 fires? She asked Mariette that night. Mariette broke forth into a flow of description. Ah, Indeed, Mademoiselle Sarah might well ask. She was a forlorn little thing who had just taken the place of scullery maid, Though as to be scullery maid she was everything else besides. She blacked boots and grates and carried heavy spools, Scuttles up and down stairs and scrubbed 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 chance to speak to her, It appeared as if her poor frightened eyes would jump out of her head. What is her name? Asked Sarah, 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 everyone below stairs calling, Becky do this and Becky do that, Every five minutes in the day. Sarah sat down 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 quite had enough to eat. Her very eyes were hungry. She hoped she could 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 Sarah 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. Sarah's room 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 necessities. Sarah'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 a 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 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 Sarah 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 only looked like an ugly, Stunted, Worn out little scullery drudge. Sarah seemed as much unlike her as if she were a creature from another world. On this particular afternoon, Sarah had been taking her dancing lesson, And the afternoon on which the dancing master appeared was rather a grand occasion at the seminary, Although it occurred every week. The pupils were attired in their prettiest frocks, And as Sarah danced particularly well, She was very much brought forward, And Mariette was requested to make her as diaphanous and fine as possible. Today, A frock the colour 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-coloured 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's steps, And there sat Becky, Nodding her cap sideways off her head. Oh, Cried Sarah 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 towards her quietly and stood looking. Becky gave a little snore. I wish she'd waken herself, Sarah 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-coloured legs and wondering what it would be best to do. Miss Amelia might come in any moment, And if she did, Becky would be sure to be scolded. But she's so tired, She thought. She is so tired. A piece of flaming coal ended her perplexity for her at that very moment. It broke off from a large lump and fell onto the fender. Becky started and opened her eyes with a frightened grasp. 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-coloured 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'd 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. Ah, She pardoned miss, I do miss. Sarah 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 and me being so tired, It wasn't impertinence. Sarah broke into a friendly little laugh and put her hand on her shoulder. You were tired, She said. You could not help it. You were not really awake yet. How poor Becky stared at her. In fact, She had never heard such a nice, Friendly sound in anyone's voice before. She was used to being ordered about and scolded and having her ears boxed. And this one, In her rose-coloured dancing afternoon splendour, 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 you angry miss, She gasped. Ain't you going to tell the missus? No, Cried out Sarah, Of course I'm not. The woeful fright in the cold, Smuttered 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're just the same. I'm 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 someone was run over or fell off a ladder and was carried to the hospital. Accident, Miss? She fluttered respectively. Is it? Yes, Sarah answered and she looked at her dreamily for a moment. But the next she spoke in a different tone. She realised Becky did not know what she meant. Have you done your work? She asked. Dare you stay here for a few minutes? Becky lost her breath again. Here, Miss, Me. Sarah 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 while. I thought you might like a piece of cake. The next ten minutes seemed to Becky like a sort of delirium. Sarah 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 two herself, Daring as she felt it to be. Is that? She ventured, Looking longingly at the rose-coloured frock and she asked it almost in a whisper. Is that there your best? It's one of my dancing frocks, Answered Sarah. I like it, Don't you? For a few seconds, Becky was almost speechless with admiration. Then she said in an awed voice, Once I see a princess. I was standing in the street with the crowd outside Covent Garden watching the swells go in at the opera and there was this one that stared at me most. They said to each other, That's the princess. She was grown up, Young lady, But she was pink all over, Gowned and cloaked in flowers and all. I called her to mind the minute I see you sitting there on the table, Missy. You look just like her. I've often thought, Said Sarah in her reflecting voice, That I should like to be a princess. I believe I will begin pretending I'm 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 Sarah 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 had an altar, But it was that beautiful, I couldn't help it. I liked you to listen to it, Said Sarah. 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 mer-baby swinging about laughing with stars in their hair. Sarah nodded. You haven't time to hear it now, I'm afraid, She said, But if you will tell me just what time you're coming to do my rooms, I'll try to be here and tell you a bit of it every day until it's 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 I might just have that to think of. You may, Said Sarah, I'll tell it all to you. When Becky went downstairs, 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 Sarah. When she was gone, Sarah sat on her favourite perch at 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 largest 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 largest. I'll pretend that to do things people like is scattering largest. I've scattered largest. Not very long after this, A very exciting thing happened. Not only Sarah, But the entire school found it exciting and made it the chief subject of conversation for weeks after it occurred. In one of his lessons, 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 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 this scheme. This at least was what Sarah gathered from his letters. It is true that any other business scheme, However magnificent, Would have had all but small attraction for her or for the schoolroom. But diamond mines sounded so like the Arabian Nights that no one could be indifferent. Sarah 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 it 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 mama has a diamond ring which costs 40 pounds she said and it's not a big one either. If there were mines full of diamonds people would be so rich it would be ridiculous. Perhaps Sarah will be so rich she'll 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 Sarah. Well it is. One of her pretends she's 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 said she's too fat. She is too fat said Lavinia and Sarah is too thin. Naturally Jessie giggled again. She says it's nothing to do with what you look like or what you have. It's only to do with what you think of or 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 schoolroom 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 a danger that if they did not Miss Minchin or Miss Amelia would appear and put an end to the festivities. Even as Lavinia spoke the door opened and Sarah 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 schoolroom and she had begged her adopted parent to come with her. She joined a group of the little ones who were playing in a corner. Sarah 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 grey 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 schoolroom 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 someone's hit me Sarah told Ermengarde once in confidence and as if I want to hit back. I have to remember things quickly to keep them 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 schoolroom 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 crybaby, Stop this minute! Lavinia commanded. I'm not a crybaby, I'm not! Wailed Lottie. Sarah! Sarah! 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. Sarah flew across the room and kneeling down put her arms around her. Now Lottie! She said. Now Lottie you promised Sarah. She said I was a crybaby wept Lottie. Sarah 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 mama! She proclaimed. I haven't any mama. Yes you have! Said Sarah cheerfully. Have you forgotten? Don't you know Sarah's your mama? Don't you want Sarah for a mama? Lottie cuddled up to her with a consoled sniff. Come and sit in the window seat with me. Sarah 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'd like to slap her. Sarah got up quickly to her feet. It must be remembered that she had been very deeply absorbed in the book about the Bastille and she had to recall several things rapidly when she realised 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're not gutter children we are old enough to know better. Here was Lavinia's opportunity. Oh 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. Sarah started towards 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'm a princess. I pretend I'm a princess so I can try and behave like one. Lavinia could not exactly think the right thing to say. Several times she had found she could not think of a satisfactory reply when she was dealing with Sarah. The reason for this was that somehow the rest always seemed to be vaguely in sympathy with her opponent. She saw now 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 Sarah 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 Sarah 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 her away. After this the girls who were jealous of her used to speak of her as Princess Sarah 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 Sarah but her adorers were much pleased with the picturesque grandness 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 ripped and grown though it must be confessed Miss Minchin and Miss Amelia knew very little about it. They were aware that Sarah was kind to the scullery maid but they knew nothing of certain delightful moments snatched perilously when the upstairs room being set in order with lighted rapidity Sarah's sitting room was reached and the heavy coal box set down with a sigh of joy. At such times stories were told by installments. Things of a more satisfying nature were either produced and eaten or hastily tucked into pockets to be disposed of at night when Becky went upstairs to her attic to bed. But I asked to eat and care for Miss she said once because if I leave the crumbs the rats come out to get them. Rats exclaimed Sarah in horror are there rats there? Lots of them miss Becky answered in quite a matter of fact manner. They're mostly his rats and mice in attics you get used to the noise they make scuttling about. I've got so many I don't mind them as long as they don't run over my pillar. Oh said Sarah. You get used to anything after a bit said Becky. You have to miss if you're born as scullery maid. I'd rather have rats than cockroaches. So would I said Sarah. 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 Sarah's existence. When she drove or walked about 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 she had hit upon a discovery. When she exhibited them Becky's eyes quite sparkled. Oh miss she murmured. Them will be nice and filling His fillingness is the best. Sponge cake's an evilly thing but it melts away like if you understand miss. These will just stay in your stomach. Well hesitated Sarah. I don't think it would be very good if they stayed always but I do believe they will be satisfying. They were satisfying and so were the beef sandwiches bought at a cook shop and so were the 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. A chance that miss Sarah would be able to be in her sitting room. In fact the mere seeing of miss Sarah 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 installment of a story to be told or some other thing once remembered afterwards and sometimes lay awake in ones bed in the attic to think it over. Sarah 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 hard driven life Sarah had made her laugh and laughed with her and though neither of them quite knew it the laughter was as filling as the meat pies. A few weeks before Sarah's 11th 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 Sarah he wrote, Your daddy is not a businessman 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 a marvel of splendid perfection when she had replied to the letter asking if the doll would be an acceptable present Sarah had been very quaint I'm 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'm sure a poem about a last doll would be very nice but I cannot write poetry I've 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'm sure the school would love it they all like dolls although some of the big ones the almost 15 ones pretend they're 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 around my neck this minute what wouldn't I give the birthday was to be celebrated by great festivities the schoolroom 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 schoolroom 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 around the room against the wall when Sarah 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 who 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 many happy returns oh cried Sarah with a warm feeling in her heart what pain she has taken I like it so it makes me feel sorrowful but at the next moment she was mystified on the underside of the pincushion was secured a card bearing in neat letters the name Miss Amelia Minchin Miss Amelia she said to herself turning it over and over 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 you like it Miss Sarah she said do you like it cried Sarah you darling Becky made it all yourself Becky gave a hysteric but joyful sniff and her eyes looked quite moist with delight it ain't nothing but flanning the flanning ain't new but I wanted to give you some of it and I made it at night I knew you could pretend it was sat in with diamond pins in I tried to when I was making it the card Miss rather doubtfully it weren't wrong of me to pick it up out of the dustbin was it Miss Amelia throwing it away I ain't no card of me own and I knowed it would have been proper precinct if I didn't pick a card on it so I pinned Miss Amelia's Sarah flew at her and hugged her she could not have told herself or anyone else why there was such 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 you Miss kindly it ain't good enough for that the flanning wasn't new Chapter 7 When Sarah entered the Holly hung schoolroom 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's 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 new cap Sarah 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 Sarah 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 placed the box on the table and removed 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 curtsy 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 towards the door you may leave us Miss Minchin announced to the servants with a wave of her hand Becky stepped aside to respectfully 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 the folds of tissue paper if you please Miss Minchin Becky said Sarah suddenly made Becky stay it was a bold thing to do Miss Minchin was betrayed into something like a slight jump then she put her eyeglass up and gazed at her show pupil disturbedly Becky she exclaimed my dearest Sarah Sarah advanced a step towards her I want her because I know she would 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 another my dearest Sarah she said Becky is the scullery maid scullery maids 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 Sarah and I know because she would enjoy herself please let her stay it is my birthday Miss Minchin replied with much dignity as you ask it as a birthday favour she may stay Rebecca thanked Miss Sarah for her great kindness Becky had been backing into the corner twisting the hem of her apron in delighted suspense she came forward bobbing curtsies but between Sarah's eyes and her own there passed a gleam of friendly understanding while her words tumbled over each other oh if you please miss Miss Sarah I'm that grateful miss I did want to see the doll miss that I did thank you miss thank you ma'am turning and making an alarmed bob to Miss Minchin by 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 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 downstairs 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 Sarah felt rather uncomfortable as this was her party it was probable that the speech was about her it is not agreeable to stand in the schoolroom and have a speech made about you you are aware young ladies the speech began for it was a speech that dear Sarah is 11 years old today dear Sarah murmured Lavinia several of you here have also been 11 years old but Sarah'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 time in mines Sarah did not hear her but as she stood with her grey green eyes fixed steadily on Miss Minchin she felt herself growing rather hot when Miss Minchin talked about money she felt somehow she had always hated her and of course it was disrespectful to hate grown up people when her dear papa Captain Crew 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 Crew shall be such as will adorn the largest fortune Sarah 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 Sarah 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 together thank you Sarah the entire school room rose to its feet thank you Sarah thank you Sarah it said and it must be confessed that Lottie jumped up and down Sarah looked rather shy for a moment she made a curtsy and it was a very nice one thank you she said for coming to my party very pretty indeed Sarah this is what a real princess does that's when the populace applauds her Lavinia scathingly the sound you 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 Sarah 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 Sarah I like them Sarah laughed but she turned to the biggest box when she took out the last doll it was so magnificent that the children uttered delightful groans of joy and actually drew back to gaze at it in breathless rapture she's almost as big as Lottie someone gasped Lottie clapped her hands and danced about giggling she's dressed for the theatre said Lavinia her cloak is light with ermine oh cried Ermengarde darting forward she has an opera glass in her hand and a blue and gold one here is her trunk said Sarah let us open it and look at her things she sat down upon the floor and turned the key the children crowded clamouring around her as she lifted tray after tray and revealed their contents never had the schoolroom 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 seal skin 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 they were too elderly to care for dolls and uttered exclamations of delight and caught up things to look at them suppose Sarah said as she stood by the table putting a large black velvet hat on the impassively smiling owner of all these splendours 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 said Sarah undisturbedly I like it there's 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 Sarah 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 might be easy she often thought afterwards how strange it was that just as she had finished saying this just at that very moment Miss Amelia came into the room Sarah she said your papa solicitor Mr Barrow has called to see Miss Minchin and as she must talk to him alone and the refreshments are laid in her parlour you had all better come and have your feast now so that my sister can have her interview here in the schoolroom Miss Amelia arranged the procession into decorum and then with Sarah 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 laced 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 pick up first a mug 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 tablecloth. 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. Please 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 eyeglasses 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 made at a Parisian modest'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 grew herself up still more rigidly. Captain Crewe is a man of fortune, She said, The diamond mines alone. Then Mr Barrow wheeled round upon her. Diamond mines, He broke out. There are no diamond mines, And there 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. When a man is in the hands of a very dear friend, Said Mr Barrow, And is not a businessman 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 be put into. The late Captain Crewe. Here Miss Minchin stopped him with a gasp. The late Captain Crewe, She cried out, The late. Don't come to tell me 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 spoke 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 her 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 in one blow. She felt as if she had been outraged and robbed, And that Captain Crewe and Sarah and Mr Barrow were equally to blame. Do you mean to tell me, She cried out, That he left nothing? That Sarah will have no fortune? That child is a beggar? That she's left on my hands a little pauper instead of an heiress? Mr Barrow was a shrewd businessman, 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 in your hands, Ma'am, As she hasn't a relation in the world we know of. Miss Minchin started forward. She looked as if she was going to open a 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 gores and lace petticoats, Giving a party at my expense. She's giving it at your expense, Ma'am, If she's giving it, Said Mr Barrow calmly. Barrow and Skipworth are not responsible for anything. There never was a cleaner suite 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 anyone could have dreamed of it 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 eyeglasses and slipping them into his pocket. Captain Crewe is dead. The child is left to pauper. Nobody is responsible for her but you. I'm 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 and Skipworth are not responsible. Very sorry the thing has happened, Of course. If you think she's to be foisted off on me or greatly mistaken, Miss Minchin gasped, I've been robbed and cheated. I'll 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 towards the door. I wouldn't do that, Madam. It wouldn't look well. Unpleasant story to get about in connection with the establishment. Pupil bonded out penniless and without friends. He was a clever businessman as he knew what he was saying. He also knew that Miss Minchin was a businesswoman 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'm sure you will, Ma'am, Said Mr Barrow with a little sinister smile. I'm 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 towards 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 Sarah Croome? Miss Amelia was bewildered. Sarah? She stammered. Why, She's with the children in your room, Of course. Has she a black frog in her sumptuous wardrobe? In bitter irony. A black frog? Miss Amelia stammered again. A black one? She has frogs of every other colour. Has she a black one? Miss Amelia began to turn pale. Yes, She said, But it's too short for her. She has only the black old velvet and she's outgrown it. Go and tell her to take off that preposterous pink silk gauze and put the black one on, Whether it's too short or not. She has done with finery. Then Miss Amelia began to wring her fat hands and cry. Oh, Sister, She sniffed. 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 has left a pauper on my hands. Miss Amelia sat down quite heavily in the nearest chair. Hundreds of pounds I've 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, Must I go and tell her? 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 to the midst of a room full of delighted children and tell the giver of the feast. She'd suddenly be transformed into a little beggar and must go upstairs 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 Minjin walked across the room. She spoke to herself aloud without knowing she was doing it. During the last year, The story of the diamond mines has 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 Sarah, 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 bowls at the table cover. How dare you? She cried. 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, Ma'am, It is me, Ma'am, She explained. I know I ought not to, But I was looking at the dome, And I was frightened when you came in and I slept under the table. You have been there all the time, Listening, Said Miss Minchin. No, Ma'am, Becky protested, Bobbing curtsies. Not listening? I thought I could slip out without you noticing, But I couldn't. I had to stay. But I didn't listen, Ma'am. I wouldn't for nothing. I couldn't help hearing. Suddenly it seemed she lost all fear of the awful lady before her, And she burst into fresh tears. Oh, Please, She said. I dare say you'll give me warning, Ma'am, But I'm so sorry for poor Miss Sarah. I'm so sorry. Leave the room, Ordered Miss Minchin. Becky curtsied again, The tears openly streaming down her cheeks. Yes, Ma'am, I will, She said, Trembling. But I just wanted to ask you, Miss Sarah, She's been such a rich young lady, And she's been waited on hand and foot. What will she do now, Ma'am, Without her maid? If you please, Will you let me wait on her after I've done my pots and kettles? I'll do them quick. If you let me wait on her now, She's poor. Poor little Miss Sarah, Ma'am. 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 realised more fully than ever she had never really 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 poor princess ones, That was drove out into the world. Miss Minchin had never looked quite so still and hard as she did when Sarah came to her a few hours later in response to a message she had sent her. Even by that time it seemed to Sarah 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 schoolroom 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 frogs, And this having been done, They had returned to the schoolroom and huddled together in groups, Whispering and talking excitedly. Tell Sarah to come into my room, Miss Minchin had said to her sister, And explained to her clearly that I will have no crying or unpleasant scenes. Sister, Replied Miss Amelia, She's the strangest child I ever saw. She's 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'd finished, She stood still staring for a few seconds, And then her chin began to shake and she turned round and ran out of the room and upstairs. Several of the other children began to cry, But she didn't seem to hear them or be alive to anything, 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, No matter what it is. Nobody but Sarah herself ever knew what had happened in her room after she ran upstairs 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 to be 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? My papa is dead. He's 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 been suffering. She did not in the least look like the rose-coloured butterfly child who had flown about from one of her treasures to the other in the decorated schoolroom. 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 a 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 swayed in a piece of black material. Put down your doll, Said Miss Minchin. What do you mean by bringing her here? No, Sarah 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. Sarah kept her big strange eyes fixed on her and said not a word. Everything will be different now, Miss Minchin went on. I suppose Miss Amelia has explained matters to you? Yes, Answered Sarah. 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 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 Sarah again said nothing. What are you staring at? Demanded Miss Minchin sharply. Are you so stupid you cannot understand? I tell you you are quite alone in this world and have no one to do anything for you unless I choose to keep you here out of charity. I understand, Answered Sarah 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. Sarah turned her head towards 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 Sarah. I do not want it. If she had cried and sobbed and seemed frightened, Miss Minchin might almost have had more patience with her. And as she looked at Sarah's pale little steadfast face and heard her proud little voice, She felt quite 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 and 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. 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 Sarah. 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 schoolroom. If you don't please me, You will be sent away. Remember that. Now go. Sarah 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? Sarah 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. Sarah 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. Then 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 own 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 she felt secretly ashamed of the things she had been ordered to do. You are not to go in there, She said. Not go in? Exclaimed Sarah and she fell back apace. It is not your room now, Miss Amelia answered, Reddening a little. Somehow all at once Sarah understood. She realised that this was the beginning of the change Miss Minchin had spoken of. Where is my room? She asked, Hoping very much her voice did not shake. You are to sleep in the attic next to Becky. Sarah 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. The 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. Yes, This was another world. The room had a slanting roof and was whitewashed. The whitewashed were dingy and 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 downstairs had been sent up. Under the skylight in the roof, Which showed nothing but an oblong piece of dull grey sky, There stood an old battered red footstool. Sarah 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 little arms about her and sat there, Her 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 to, Just to come in? Sarah lifted her head and looked at her. She tried to begin to 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 anymore. 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. Whatever's happened to you, Whatsoever, You'll be a princess all the time.