A Little Princess, Part 5 of 15

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UK soul traders are limited company directors only. Teas and seas apply. Hello, it's Elizabeth. And I'm excited to share with you the newest show from Slumber Studios. It's called Sleepy History and it's exactly what it sounds like. Intriguing stories, people, mysteries and events from history delivered in a supremely calming atmosphere. Explore the legend of El Dorado. See what life was like for the Roman gladiators. Uncover the myths and mysteries of Stonehenge. You'll find interesting but relaxing episodes like these on Sleepy History and the same great production quality you've come to know and love from the Sleepy Bookshelf. So check it out. And perhaps you'll have another way to get a good night's rest. Just search Sleepy History in your preferred podcast player. Good evening. And welcome to this Sleepy Bookshelf where we put down our worries from the day and pick up a good book. I'm your host, Elizabeth. I'm really happy you came this evening because tonight we are continuing with a little princess. But before we turn to the next chapter, take a moment to get comfortable and snug. Give yourself a nice, big stretch to release any tension in your muscles. And now notice how each part of your body feels. From your toes, all the way up to your head. And give any extra areas that need it a squeeze and release to help them relax. Take a nice deep breath in, holding it for a moment. And then exhale, breathing away any remaining thoughts cluttering your mind. We'll do that once more. Inhale, hold it, and exhale. Beautiful. Repeat this as many times as you need to while I recap our last episode. Sarah received a letter from her father explaining that a friend of his had just discovered his land contained diamonds and he was about to construct a mine and he had asked her father to be involved in the venture. This news spread round the school and Sarah created some stories about diamond mines for the girls who asked. LaVinia was very spiteful as always and tried to dispute the story in its entirety. One afternoon, while the girls enjoyed their free time as Miss Mention and Miss Amelia had tea, Sarah came into the classroom with Lottie. While Sarah tucked herself away with a book, Lottie managed to fall down and hurt herself, resulting in a loud wail. When Sarah came to console her, Lottie asked her to tell her about the diamond mines and LaVinia scoffed. Sarah finally turned on her and LaVinia made a jeering reference to Sarah's secret decision to always behave like a princess. Rather than rising to the provocation, Sarah calmed and admitted it was true and from then on she was called Princess Sarah by awe, some in disdain, but most in admiration. Becky and Sarah's relationship had continued to grow, Sarah bringing Becky small gifts and food whenever she ventured out of doors. When Sarah's birthday came around, her father had made all sorts of wonderful arrangements, including a school party in which everyone was invited. Becky even made Sarah a small gift, insignificant to most, but it meant the world to Sarah. Captain Crew also wrote, however, that he was terribly ill and quite overwhelmed with the paperwork for the mine. And that is where we will pick up tonight. So just lie back and relax as I turn to the next pages of A Little Princess. Chapter 7 The Diamond Mines Again When Sarah entered the Holly Hung schoolroom in the afternoon, she did so as the head of a sort of procession. Miss Mention in her grandest silk dress led her by the hand. A manservant 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. Sarah would have much preferred to enter in the usual way, but Miss Mention 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 Mention 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 raptious expectation. She almost dropped the box, the disapproving voice so startled her, and her frightened, bobbing curtsy of apology was so funny that Lavinia and Jesse tittered. It is not your place to look at the young ladies, said Miss Mention. You forget yourself. Put your box down. Becky obeyed with alarmed haste and hastily backed toward the door. You may leave us. Miss Mention 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 Mention, said Sarah suddenly, meant Becky stay. It was a bold thing to do. Miss Mention was betrayed into something like a slight jump. Then she put her eye glass up and gazed at her show pupil disturbingly. Becky, she exclaimed, My dearest Sarah. Sarah advanced a step toward her. I want her because I know she would like to see the presence. She exclaimed, She is a little girl too, you know. Miss Mention was scandalised. She glanced from one figure to the other. My dear 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 she would enjoy herself. Please let her stay, because it is my birthday. Miss Mention replied with much dignity. As you ask it, as a birthday favour, she may stay. Rebecca, thank Miss Sarah for her great kindness. Becky had been backing into a 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, I'm that grateful, Miss. I did want to see the dull miss that I did. Thank you, Miss, and thank you, Mum. Turning and making an alarmed bob to Miss Mention. For letting me take the liberty, Miss Mention 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 in the room. 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 Mention 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 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 Sarah is eleven years old today. Dear Sarah, murmured Levenia. Several of you here have also been eleven years old, but Sarah's birthdays are rather different from other little girl's 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 Jesse in a whisper. Sarah did not hear her, but as she stood with her green-grey eyes, fixed steadily on Miss Mention, she felt herself growing rather hot. When Miss Mention 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 Crue, 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 rather rich, Miss Mention. My reply was, her education at my seminary, Captain Crue, 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 Princesses. Sarah a 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, Sarah. The entire school room rose to its feet. As it had done the morning, Sarah remembered so well. 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, approved Miss Mention. That is what a real princess does when the populace applauds her. Lavigne, scathingly. The sound you just made was extremely like a smort. 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 Ermengard looked aghast. Did your papas 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 delighted words. Children uttered delighted 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 lined with her mine. Oh, cried Ermengard, darting forward. She has an opera glass in her hand, 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 Jesse 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 the girls. Suppose she understands human talk and feels proud of being admired. You're always supposing things, said Lavinia, and her air was very superior. I know I am, answered Sarah, undisturbedly. I like it. I like it. There is nothing so nice as supposing, which is 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? 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 not 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. Sarah, she said. Your papa's solicitor, Mr Barrow, has called to see Miss Minchin, and 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 schoolroom. 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 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 lace-friiled 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 reverently, 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 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, and 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 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 and made it a Parisian mo-deast. 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 Cru is a man of fortune, she said. A 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 it is not a businessman himself, he had better steer clear of the dear friend's diamond mines or gold mines or any of the other kind of mines dear friends want his money to put into. The late Captain Cru. Here Miss Minchin stopped him with a gasp. The late Captain Cru, she cried out. The late? You don't come to tell me that Captain Cru is, he's dead, mum. Mr. Barrow answered with a 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 Cru is dead. Miss Minchin dropped into her chair again. The words he had spoken filled her with alarm. What? What? 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 Cru's. Then the dear friend ran away. Captain Cru 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 people, 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 Cru 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 the child is a beggar? That she is left on my hands a little pauper instead of an heiress. Mr. Barrow was a shrewd businessman. And it felt 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, Mom. 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 is in my sitting room at this moment, dressed in silk, gauze and lace petticoats, giving a party at my expense. She is giving it at your expense, Madam, if she is giving it, said Mr. Barrow calmly. Barrow and Skipworth are not responsible for anything. There never was a cleaner sweep made of a man's fortune. Captain Crude 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 its being. What that is what 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 our 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 check 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, Mal. He remarked, unless you want to make presence to the young lady. No one will remember you. She hasn't a brass father 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 Crew 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 and Skipworth are not responsible. Very sorry the thing has happened, of course. If you think she's 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. Our unpleasant story to get about in connection with the establishment. People bundled out penniless and without friends. He was a clever businessman and 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 girl, 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, mama, 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. 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, 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, crew? Miss Amelia was bewildered. Sarah? She stammered. 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. Uh, no. Yes, she said. But it is too short for her. She has only the black velvet and she has outgrown in. Bruntella'd 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, what can have happened? Miss Minchin wasted no words. Captain crew 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 I have 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. Oh, I panted Miss Amelia. Must I go and tell her now? This moment was the fierce answer. Don't sit staring like a goose. Go. Oh. 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 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 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, 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 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, ma... please, ma... She exclaimed, I know I hadn't ought to, but I was looking at the door, and I was frightened when you come in and slipped under the table. You have been there all the time. Listening, said Miss Mention. No, Mum," Becky protested, bobbing curtsies. Not listening, I thought I could slip out without you noticing. I couldn't, and I had to stay, but I didn't listen, Mumma. I wouldn't for nothing, but I couldn't help hearing. Suddenly, it seemed almost as if she lost all fear of the awful lady before her. She burst into fresh tears. Oh, please, Mumma," she said. I dare say you'll give me warning, Mumma. I'm so sorry for poor Miss Sarah. I'm so sorry. Leave the room," ordered Miss Mention. Becky curtsied again, the tears openly streaming down her cheeks. Yes, I will, I'm<|vi|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|><|zh|>! I just wanted to ask you, Miss Sarah, she's such a rich young lady. She's been waiting, she's been waiting on her hand and foot and waiting. What would she do now, Mum, without her mother? Would you let me wait on her after I've done my pots and gals? I'll do it quick if you let me wait on her now. She's poor. Breaking out of fresh. Poor little Miss Sarah. That was called a princess. Somehow she made Miss Mention feel more angry than ever. The very scullery made should range herself on the side of this child, she realized she had never liked was too much. She actually stamped her foot. No, certainly not. She said she will wait on herself and 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. 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. Then poor princesses once, there was drive into the world. Miss Mention 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 Mention's sitting room looked as it always did. All traces of the feast were gone and Miss Mention 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 schoolroom and huddled together in groups whispering and talking excitedly. Tell Sarah to come to my room, Miss Mention had said to her sister and explained to her clearly that I will have no crying or unpleasant scenes. Oh sister replied Miss Amelia. She is the strangest child I ever saw. She has actually made no fuss at all. You remember she made not when Captain Crew 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 upstairs. Several of the other children began to cry that she did not seem to hear them or to be alive to anything but just what I was saying 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 Sarah herself ever knew what had happened in her room after she had run upstairs and locked her door. In fact she herself scarcely remembered anything but that she walked up and down saying gover and dover 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 a 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 Mention'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 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 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 Mention. What do you mean by bringing her here? Sarah answered. I will not put her down. She's all I have. My papa gave her to me. She had always made Miss Mention feel secretly uncomfortable and she did so now. She did not speak with rudeness so much as with a cold steadiness with which Miss Mention felt it difficult to cope. Perhaps because she knew she was doing a heartless and inhumane 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 very different now. Miss Mention went on. I suppose Miss Amelia has explained matters to you. Yes, said Sarah. My papa is dead. He left me no money. I am quite poor. You are a beggar, said Miss Mention, 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 Sarah again said nothing. What are you staring at? demanded Miss Mention 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 Sarah in a low tone and there was a sound as if she had gulped down something which arose in her throat. I understand. That doll cried Miss Mention, 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 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 Mention. 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 Mention 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 Sarah's pale little steadfast face and heard her proud little voice, she quite felt as if her might was being sat at nought. 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 very 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 Mention. 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. 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 Mention. 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 Mention. 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. And she had turned and run out of the room before Miss Mention 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. Where 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 Emilia 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 things she had been ordered to do. You were not to go in there. She said. Not to go in. exclaimed Sarah and she fell back apace. That is not your room now. Miss Emilia answered. Reddening a little. Somehow all at once Sarah understood. She realized that this was the beginning of the change Miss Mention 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. 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. 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. Yes this was another world. The room had a slanting groove 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 downstairs had been sent up. Under the skylight in the roof which showed nothing but an oblong piece of dull grey sky and a stout 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 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, Piss. She said under her breath. My, my, would you allow me just to come in? Sarah lifted her head and looked at her. She tried to begin with 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, told you you 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, Piss, you are. She cried and her words were all broken. Whatever happens to you, whatever, you'd be a princess all the same and nothing couldn't make you nothing different. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.