“No!” she cried. “She will wait on herself—and other people as well. Now leave or I’ll toss you into the streets too.”
Becky threw her apron over her head. She ran out in tears. “It’s just like in them stories,” she wailed. “The ones where the princesses are thrown out into the cold.”
10
How Things Changed
Sara came to Miss Minchin’s sitting room. She wore her old black dress. It was way too short and far too tight. But Sara walked as if she were wearing her finest silk dress.
Her eyes were ringed with dark shadows. But she had not been crying. She held Emily tightly in her arms.
“Put down that doll!” said Miss Minchin. “What do you mean by bringing her here?”
“No,” said Sara quietly. “I will not put her down. Papa gave her to me.”
“Well! You have no time for dolls now!” Miss Minchin said with a snort. “Did Miss Amelia explain things?”
“Yes,” said Sara. “My papa … My papa is dead.”
“You are a beggar,” said Miss Minchin cruelly. “You have no relatives. No home. No one to take care of you.”
Sara’s face twitched slightly. But she said nothing.
“Are you stupid?” Miss Minchin demanded. “Can you not understand? You are all alone in the world. You have nothing unless I give you a home.”
“I understand,” said Sara quietly.
“Your party. That silly doll with all her fancy clothes. I paid the bills!” Miss Minchin cried.
Sara looked away. “The Last Doll …”
“The Last Doll indeed!” said Miss Minchin. “That doll is mine, not yours! Everything you own is now mine.”
“Then please take it away,” said Sara.
Miss Minchin had thought Sara would be frightened. She had thought Sara would cry. But the child just stood there, silent and proud. Like a princess!
“Don’t put on grand airs with me,” Miss Minchin snapped. “You are not a ‘princess’ anymore. You are like Becky now. You must work for your living.”
A sparkle came into Sara’s eyes. “Oh, may I work?” she said. “Then it will not matter so much. What can I do?”
Miss Minchin could not believe her ears. How could the child sound happy about that! “You will do whatever you are told!” she said. “Now go!”
Sara turned to leave.
“Stop!” cried Miss Minchin. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”
Sara looked back, surprised. “For what?” she asked.
“For my kindness to you,” said Miss Minchin. “For giving you a home.”
Sara shook her head. “No, Miss Minchin. You are not kind. And this is not a home.”
Then Sara ran from the room.
Slowly she climbed the stairs. She hugged Emily tight. She wanted to go lie down on the tiger skin. She wanted to look into the fire and think and think.
At last she reached her room. She put her hand to the doorknob. But then Miss Amelia came out, looking embarrassed. She closed the door behind her.
“I’m sorry. You can’t go in there,” she said. Her face turned red. “It’s not your room anymore.”
Sara tried to keep her voice from shaking. “Where is my room?” she asked.
Miss Amelia twisted her hands. She looked away. “Your room is next to Becky’s,” she mumbled. “It’s in the attic.”
Sara turned and climbed the steps. The stairway grew narrow and dark. Finally she reached the room in the attic. She opened the door. And her heart sank.
The room was small and gray. The roof was slanted. There was a skylight. But it framed a patch of dull gray sky.
An old iron bed stood in one corner. The blanket was worn, and the pillow was small and dirty. The floor was bare.
Sara sat down on an old stool. She put her head in her arms. But still she did not cry.
A soft tap at the door made her look up. Becky came in. Her eyes were red from crying.
Sara tried to smile, but she couldn’t. She held out her hand.
“Oh, Becky!” she said. “I told you we were just the same. Just two little girls. See how true it is? I am not a princess anymore.”
Becky knelt and took Sara’s hand. “Oh, yes you are, miss,” she said. “You’ll always be a princess. Nothing can ever change that.”
11
The Attic
Sara would never forget her first night in the attic. Her bed was hard. The room was cold and dark. The wind howled around the chimney tops.
But that was not all. Sara heard sounds behind the walls. Scratchy, squeaky sounds. She knew what that meant. Rats!
Tiny claws skittered across the floor. Sara jerked the thin blanket over her head. At last she fell asleep, whispering in the dark. “Papa is dead. Papa is dead.… ”
When she woke up the next morning, she was cold. She did not know where she was at first. “Papa!” she thought. Then she remembered.
Sara jumped out of bed, shivering. The floor was ice cold. Quickly she dressed and ran downstairs. The door to her old room was open. But all her things were gone.
“When did Mariette leave?” Sara wondered. “She didn’t even say goodbye.”
Sara went down to breakfast. She used to sit next to Miss Minchin. Now Lavinia sat there, grinning like a cat.
“Sara,” Miss Minchin said sharply. “You must begin your duties. Sit with the young girls. Keep them quiet. Where were you? Lottie has already upset her tea.”
So began Sara’s new life. She was the first one up and the last to go to sleep. The cook and housemaids ordered her about. Sara was blamed if anything went wrong!
Sara worked hard. She would show them. She wanted to work for her living. She did not want charity.
But weeks went by. No one ever told her what a good worker she was. They just gave her more to do!
Sara was no longer allowed to go to school. But sometimes she went to the schoolroom late at night.
“I’m so tired,” she told Emily. “But I must not forget what I have learned.”
The young ladies did not know what to think. Sara was so different now. Her dress was shabby. She ran through the dirty streets on errands for the cook!
Even worse, Sara no longer laughed or told them stories.
Sara had once seemed like a princess. Now she was just a servant. Miss Minchin would not let them play with her.
Slowly they began to forget why they had loved her.
This hurt Sara more than anything. But she didn’t show it. “Soldiers don’t complain,” she told Emily.
At least, she had Becky. They were too busy to talk during the day. But sometimes at night they tapped secret messages on the wall between their rooms.
One day Sara was going down the stairs with a basket of laundry.
Ermengarde was coming up.
Sara looked so different! Poor Ermengarde could not think what to say.
“How—how are you?” Ermengarde stammered. “Are you—unhappy?”
Sara was tired and cross. And she thought, “Ermengarde is like the others. She does not really want to talk to me.”
Sara’s feelings were hurt. So her words were harsh.
“What do you think!” she snapped. “Do you think I am happy?” Then she hurried down the stairs with her heavy basket.
A few days later Sara had more work than ever. It was late when she crept up the stairs. A light shone beneath her door. Someone was in there!
Slowly Sara opened the door.
“Ermengarde! Why are you here?” said Sara. “You will get into trouble.”
“I don’t care!” cried Ermengarde. “Oh, Sara. Why don’t you like me anymore?”
“What!” said Sara. “I do like you. But everything is different now. I thought you were different too.”
“You are the one who is different,” said Ermengarde. “You won’t talk to me. I didn’t know what to do.”
Sara saw that she had been wrong. She threw her arms around Ermengarde. They laughed with tears in their eyes
.
Then Ermengarde looked around. “Oh, Sara, can you bear to live here?”
“I suppose I must,” said Sara. “Perhaps I can pretend it’s different.”
Sara had almost forgotten about pretending. Now her eyes began to shine.
“I am a prisoner in the Bastille,” she announced. “Miss Minchin is the jailer. Becky is the prisoner in the next cell!”
“Oh, Sara,” whispered Ermengarde. “It’s like a story!”
“It is a story,” said Sara. “I’m a story. You’re a story. Even Miss Minchin is a story. Everything is a story.”
Ermengarde was so happy. Sara looked like herself again.
And they were friends once more.
12
Two Visitors
Lottie heard the gossip about Sara. But she did not really understand. Sara still helped the younger girls with French. Yet something was different.
“Are you very poor now, Sara?” Lottie asked one day during French. “Are you as poor as a beggar?”
“Beggars have no place to live,” said Sara. “I do.”
“Where?” said Lottie. “Is it nice? Can I come see?”
“Hush,” said Sara. “Miss Minchin is looking.”
One day Lottie heard the older girls talking. Sara was in the attic! Lottie climbed the stairs to Sara’s room. She pushed open the door.
“Mama Sara!” Lottie cried. She looked around. Then she burst into tears.
“Don’t cry, Lottie,” said Sara. “It’s not so bad.”
Lottie stopped crying. “Why isn’t it so bad?” she asked.
Sara took her hand. She showed her the skylight. “You can see all sorts of things from here,” she said. “Things you can’t see downstairs. You can see sparrows talking to each other. You can see chimney smoke making wreaths in the sky. It’s like another world.”
“I want to see!” said Lottie.
Sara lifted Lottie to the window. The sparrows came when Sara called. Lottie took a bun from her pocket. Sara was so hungry. She could have eaten it in three bites. But Lottie fed it to the birds.
The attic next door had a window, but the house was empty. “Suppose a girl lived there,” said Sara. “We could talk to each other across the rooftops.”
Then Sara walked Lottie around the bare little room. “Suppose my room had a blue rug. A sofa just there. Imagine book-shelves. A lamp with a rose-colored shade. A table set for tea.”
Sara made everything seem so real. Lottie could almost see it all. “I like this attic, Mama Sara,” she said. “I want to live here too.”
Lottie was happy now. But she could go back downstairs whenever she wanted. She could go back to her warm, pretty room. Sara had to stay in the attic.
“Goodbye, Mama Sara,” Lottie said at last. “I’ll visit you again soon.”
Sara watched her go. She closed her door. The pretend things faded away.
Then something moved—there, in the shadows!
A large rat sat on his hind legs. He sniffed the air. He looked so funny—like a little man with whiskers! Sara was not afraid.
Sara imagined the rat had a family. His children were hungry and crying. So Papa Rat was hunting for food.
Sara held out a few crumbs from Lottie’s bread. She sat very still. Papa Rat seemed not to fear her. He crept forward. He snatched the crumbs. Then he ran back into the wall.
13
The Large Family
Ermengarde and Lottie could not come to visit often. It was dangerous. Miss Minchin might catch them.
So Sara lived a strange lonely life.
Once she had gone about in a carriage. She had worn beautiful clothes. People had stopped and smiled at her. But no one smiled at a shabby servant girl. No one even looked at her.
Sara was lonely, even in the crowded streets of London. So she made up stories about the people she saw.
There was one house not far from Miss Minchin’s. It was Sara’s favorite. The family that lived there had eight children! Sara called them the Large Family.
She often saw the children. Sometimes they took walks with their nanny. Sometimes they went out in the carriage with their mother.
At night she often saw them greet their father. They always surrounded him and poked in his pockets for presents. Most of the time they found something!
The Large Family always seemed so happy. Sara grew quite fond of them.
One evening she was walking past the Large Family’s house. Suddenly the door flew open. The children ran down the steps, laughing and shouting.
The girls stepped up into the carriage. But the boy stared at Sara. He seemed to be about five. Sara smiled at him.
The boy looked Sara up and down. He had heard stories about poor children. Here was a real one! He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin.
“Here, little girl,” he said.
Sara’s face turned red. The boy thought she was a beggar! Like the ragged children she had once given money to. Did she really look so bad?
“No, thank you,” Sara said politely.
But the boy would not give up. He thrust the small coin into her hand.
“You must take it, poor little girl!” he said. “Buy food with it.”
He was trying so hard to be kind. Sara couldn’t say no. It would be cruel to be so proud.
So she took the coin. “Thank you,” she said with a curtsy. “You are a kind, darling little thing.”
The boy grinned proudly and got in the carriage. But now his sisters stared. That girl! She seemed so poor—but she spoke so well. And she had the manners of a princess. She couldn’t be a beggar. Who could she be?
14
Neighbors from India
One day Sara saw something wonderful. Someone was moving in next door. Maybe she’d see a face at the attic window soon. Someone she could talk to!
Sara stopped to watch the movers. The new neighbors had fine furniture. A carved teakwood table. A beautiful screen. A statue of an Indian god.
Why, her father had had a statue just like that back home. Someone in this family must have been to India!
Suddenly Sara felt homesick. Her heart ached as she closed her eyes and remembered India.
She could feel the hot sun and see the bright colors. She could hear her sweet, gentle ayah singing an Indian song. She could see her handsome father laughing.
Sara opened her eyes and smiled. She felt sad—but happy, too. The neighbors’ Indian treasures had helped make her memories sharp and clear.
It was as if they had brought her a tiny piece of home.
A few weeks later Sara was cleaning windows. She looked out. A carriage stopped at the curb. The father of the Large Family helped a man step down.
“My new neighbor,” thought Sara. The man was very thin. He struggled to climb the steps to his door. Soon after, the doctor came.
“He must be very ill,” thought Sara. “Perhaps kind thoughts can reach people, even through windows and doors.”
She closed her eyes. She tried to send him her thoughts: “Get well soon.”
That night Sara stood at her window. There was one good thing about the attic room. The beautiful sunsets! Sara felt she had the whole world to herself.
Then she heard an odd sound. She looked next door.
A man stood at the attic window. His clothes were all white. His head was wrapped in a turban. He was an Indian manservant! He held a chattering monkey in his arms. His eyes looked sad as he watched the sunset.
“Perhaps he is homesick for India too,” Sara thought.
Suddenly the monkey sprang from the man’s arms. He dashed across the roof and jumped in through Sara’s window. She laughed as he ran around the room.
Sara called to the man, “Will he let me catch him?”
The man was surprised. Sara had spoken to him in his own Indian language!
He answered in the same language. “He is a good monkey. He will not bite. But he is hard to catch. My name is Ram Dass. May I come get him?”
> “Can you get across?” she asked.
“Just watch,” he said. Ram Dass crossed easily. He moved as if he had walked on rooftops all his life. He dropped to Sara’s floor without a sound.
The monkey ran from him, but it was all in play. At last Ram Dass caught him, and the monkey clung to his neck. Sara could tell the man was kind.
Ram Dass was shocked by Sara’s room. But he said nothing. He acted as if he were in a fancy sitting room.
“The monkey belongs to my master, Mr. Carrisford,” he said. “He is very ill, but the monkey makes him laugh. He would be sad if the monkey were lost. Thank you for your help.”
Ram Dass bowed to Sara. Then he carried the monkey home.
Sara thought of many things that night.
She longed to run away, just like the monkey. To India. To the life she had once had, when she was happy and free.
But that life was gone forever. It could have been a dream. It could have been a story she made up.
For a long time Sara lay awake in the dark. What did the future hold for her? Another day, another year as a dirty, hungry servant?
It seemed so hopeless. And yet, something would not let her give up.
“It would be easy to be a princess in gowns of gold,” Sara told herself. “But I can still be a princess inside—even though I am dressed in rags.”
Sara went to sleep then, and her dreams were peaceful.
15
On the Other Side of the Wall
Sara did her work cheerfully the next day. Once Miss Minchin scolded her in front of the young ladies. Sara only smiled.
But Miss Minchin was in a very bad mood. Sara’s smile seemed rude. So she slapped Sara Crewe across the face!
Sara was stunned. The young ladies gasped. Even Miss Minchin seemed surprised.
Sara stood still a moment. Then she could not help herself.
She laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” Miss Minchin cried.
“I was thinking,” said Sara.
“How dare you think,” said Miss Minchin. “What were you thinking?”
A Little Princess Page 3