7 A Little Princess - Stephanie Poppins

Frances Hodgson Burnett's classic Cinderella story of a young girl who maintains kindness above all as she goes from riches to rags and back again. Sara Crewe is the privileged daughter of a wealthy merchant and is treated like the princess of Miss Minchin's boarding school. Until tragedy strikes, that is.

In this episode, Sara hears about the loss of the diamond mines and comes to realize the life she has known, is now gone forever.

Transcript

A LITTLE PRINCESS by Frances Hodgson Burnett Chapter 7 continued.

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 to 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 swathed 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 Emelia 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.

She was a woman who liked to domineer and fill her power,

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.

''Y-you're not to go in there,

'' she said.

''Not go in?

'' exclaimed Sarah,

And she fell back apace.

''That 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'd be a princess all the time and nothing could make you nothing different.