A Little Princess
that happened, and almost to cease, in a short time, to find it
bewildering.
"I don't know anyone in the world who could have done it," she said;
"but there has been someone. And here we are sitting by their
fire--and--and--it's true! And whoever it is--wherever they are--I
have a friend, Becky--someone is my friend."
It cannot be denied that as they sat before the blazing fire, and ate
the nourishing, comfortable food, they felt a kind of rapturous awe,
and looked into each other's eyes with something like doubt.
"Do you think," Becky faltered once, in a whisper, "do you think it
could melt away, miss? Hadn't we better be quick?" And she hastily
crammed her sandwich into her mouth. If it was only a dream, kitchen
manners would be overlooked.
"No, it won't melt away," said Sara. "I am EATING this muffin, and I
can taste it. You never really eat things in dreams. You only think
you are going to eat them. Besides, I keep giving myself pinches; and
I touched a hot piece of coal just now, on purpose."
The sleepy comfort which at length almost overpowered them was a
heavenly thing. It was the drowsiness of happy, well-fed childhood,
and they sat in the fire glow and luxuriated in it until Sara found
herself turning to look at her transformed bed.
There were even blankets enough to share with Becky. The narrow couch
in the next attic was more comfortable that night than its occupant had
ever dreamed that it could be.
As she went out of the room, Becky turned upon the threshold and looked
about her with devouring eyes.
"If it ain't here in the mornin', miss," she said, "it's been here
tonight, anyways, an' I shan't never forget it." She looked at each
particular thing, as if to commit it to memory. "The fire was THERE",
pointing with her finger, "an' the table was before it; an' the lamp
was there, an' the light looked rosy red; an' there was a satin cover
on your bed, an' a warm rug on the floor, an' everythin' looked
beautiful; an'"--she paused a second, and laid her hand on her stomach
tenderly--"there WAS soup an' sandwiches an' muffins--there WAS." And,
with this conviction a reality at least, she went away.
Through the mysterious agency which works in schools and among
servants, it was quite well known in the morning that Sara Crewe was in
horrible disgrace, that Ermengarde was under punishment, and that Becky
would have been packed out of the house before breakfast, but that a
scullery maid could not be dispensed with at once. The servants knew
that she was allowed to stay because Miss Minchin could not easily find
another creature helpless and humble enough to work like a bounden
slave for so few shillings a week. The elder girls in the schoolroom
knew that if Miss Minchin did not send Sara away it was for practical
reasons of her own.
"She's growing so fast and learning such a lot, somehow," said Jessie
to Lavinia, "that she will be given classes soon, and Miss Minchin
knows she will have to work for nothing. It was rather nasty of you,
Lavvy, to tell about her having fun in the garret. How did you find it
out?"
"I got it out of Lottie. She's such a baby she didn't know she was
telling me. There was nothing nasty at all in speaking to Miss
Minchin. I felt it my duty"--priggishly. "She was being deceitful.
And it's ridiculous that she should look so grand, and be made so much
of, in her rags and tatters!"
"What were they doing when Miss Minchin caught them?"
"Pretending some silly thing. Ermengarde had taken up her hamper to
share with Sara and Becky. She never invites us to share things. Not
that I care, but it's rather vulgar of her to share with servant girls
in attics. I wonder Miss Minchin didn't turn Sara out--even if she
does want her for a teacher."
"If she was turned out where would she go?" inquired Jessie, a trifle
anxiously.
"How do I know?" snapped Lavinia. "She'll look rather queer when she
comes into the schoolroom this morning, I should think--after what's
happened. She had no dinner yesterday, and she's not to have any
today."
Jessie was not as ill-natured as she was silly. She picked up her book
with a little jerk.
"Well, I think it's horrid," she said. "They've no right to starve her
to death."
When Sara went into the kitchen that morning the cook looked askance at
her, and so did the housemaids; but she passed them hurriedly. She had,
in fact, overslept herself a little, and as Becky had done the same,
neither had had time to see the other, and each had come downstairs in
haste.
Sara went into the scullery. Becky was violently scrubbing a kettle,
and was actually gurgling a little song in her throat. She looked up
with a wildly elated face.
"It was there when I wakened, miss--the blanket," she whispered
excitedly. "It was as real as it was last night."
"So was mine," said Sara. "It is all there now--all of it. While I
was dressing I ate some of the cold things we left."
"Oh, laws! Oh, laws!" Becky uttered the exclamation in a sort of
rapturous groan, and ducked her head over her kettle just in time, as
the cook came in from the kitchen.
Miss Minchin had expected to see in Sara, when she appeared in the
schoolroom, very much what Lavinia had expected to see. Sara had always
been an annoying puzzle to her, because severity never made her cry or
look frightened. When she was scolded she stood still and listened
politely with a grave face; when she was punished she performed her
extra tasks or went without her meals, making no complaint or outward
sign of rebellion. The very fact that she never made an impudent
answer seemed to Miss Minchin a kind of impudence in itself. But after
yesterday's deprivation of meals, the violent scene of last night, the
prospect of hunger today, she must surely have broken down. It would
be strange indeed if she did not come downstairs with pale cheeks and
red eyes and an unhappy, humbled face.
Miss Minchin saw her for the first time when she entered the schoolroom
to hear the little French class recite its lessons and superintend its
exercises. And she came in with a springing step, color in her cheeks,
and a smile hovering about the corners of her mouth. It was the most
astonishing thing Miss Minchin had ever known. It gave her quite a
shock. What was the child made of? What could such a thing mean? She
called her at once to her desk.
"You do not look as if you realize that you are in disgrace," she said.
"Are you absolutely hardened?"
The truth is that when one is still a child--or even if one is grown
up--and has been well fed, and has slept long and softly and warm; when
one has gone to sleep in the midst of a fairy story, and has wakened to
find it real, one cannot be unhappy or even look as if one were; and
one could not, if one tried, keep a glow of joy out of one's eyes. Miss
Minchin was almost struck dumb by the look of Sara's eyes when she made
her perfectly respectful answer.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Minchin," she said; "I know that I am in
disgrace."
"Be good enough not to forget it and look as if you had come into a
fortune. It is an impertinence. And remember you are to have no food
today."
"Yes, Miss Minchin," Sara answered; but as she turned away her heart
leaped with the memory of what yesterday had been. "If the Magic had
not saved me just in time," she thought, "how horrible it would have
been!"
"She can't be very hungry," whispered Lavinia. "Just look at her.
Perhaps she is pretending she has had a good breakfast"--with a
spiteful laugh.
"She's different from other people," said Jessie, watching Sara with
her class. "Sometimes I'm a bit frightened of her."
"Ridiculous thing!" ejaculated Lavinia.
All through the day the light was in Sara's face, and the color in her
cheek. The servants cast puzzled glances at her, and whispered to each
other, and Miss Amelia's small blue eyes wore an expression of
bewilderment. What such an audacious look of well-being, under august
displeasure could mean she could not understand. It was, however, just
like Sara's singular obstinate way. She was probably determined to
brave the matter out.
One thing Sara had resolved upon, as she thought things over. The
wonders which had happened must be kept a secret, if such a thing were
possible. If Miss Minchin should choose to mount to the attic again,
of course all would be discovered. But it did not seem likely that she
would do so for some time at least, unless she was led by suspicion.
Ermengarde and Lottie would be watched with such strictness that they
would not dare to steal out of their beds again. Ermengarde could be
told the story and trusted to keep it secret. If Lottie made any
discoveries, she could be bound to secrecy also. Perhaps the Magic
itself would help to hide its own marvels.
"But whatever happens," Sara kept saying to herself all day--"WHATEVER
happens, somewhere in the world there is a heavenly kind person who is
my friend--my friend. If I never know who it is--if I never can even
thank him--I shall never feel quite so lonely. Oh, the Magic was GOOD
to me!"
If it was possible for weather to be worse than it had been the day
before, it was worse this day--wetter, muddier, colder. There were
more errands to be done, the cook was more irritable, and, knowing that
Sara was in disgrace, she was more savage. But what does anything
matter when one's Magic has just proved itself one's friend. Sara's
supper of the night before had given her strength, she knew that she
should sleep well and warmly, and, even though she had naturally begun
to be hungry again before evening, she felt that she could bear it
until breakfast-time on the following day, when her meals would surely
be given to her again. It was quite late when she was at last allowed
to go upstairs. She had been told to go into the schoolroom and study
until ten o'clock, and she had become interested in her work, and
remained over her books later.
When she reached the top flight of stairs and stood before the attic
door, it must be confessed that her heart beat rather fast.
"Of course it MIGHT all have been taken away," she whispered, trying to
be brave. "It might only have been lent to me for just that one awful
night. But it WAS lent to me--I had it. It was real."
She pushed the door open and went in. Once inside, she gasped
slightly, shut the door, and stood with her back against it looking
from side to side.
The Magic had been there again. It actually had, and it had done even
more than before. The fire was blazing, in lovely leaping flames, more
merrily than ever. A number of new things had been brought into the
attic which so altered the look of it that if she had not been past
doubting she would have rubbed her eyes. Upon the low table another
supper stood--this time with cups and plates for Becky as well as
herself; a piece of bright, heavy, strange embroidery covered the
battered mantel, and on it some ornaments had been placed. All the
bare, ugly things which could be covered with draperies had been
concealed and made to look quite pretty. Some odd materials of rich
colors had been fastened against the wall with fine, sharp tacks--so
sharp that they could be pressed into the wood and plaster without
hammering. Some brilliant fans were pinned up, and there were several
large cushions, big and substantial enough to use as seats. A wooden
box was covered with a rug, and some cushions lay on it, so that it
wore quite the air of a sofa.
Sara slowly moved away from the door and simply sat down and looked and
looked again.
"It is exactly like something fairy come true," she said. "There isn't
the least difference. I feel as if I might wish for anything--diamonds