“I was thinking how surprised you would be,” said Sara. “How frightened. If you suddenly found out—”
“Found out what?” Miss Minchin asked nervously.
“That I was a real princess.”
The young ladies stared. Miss Minchin’s fishy mouth hung open.
“Go to your room this instant!” shouted Miss Minchin.
Sara made a little curtsy. Just like a real princess. Then she left the room.
The girls began to chatter.
“Young ladies!” Miss Minchin shouted. “Attend to your lessons!”
Next door Thomas Carrisford stared into the fire.
“I must find her,” he said. “She may be alone and penniless. She may be begging in the street.”
“Do not worry,” said the father of the Large Family. His name was Mr. Carmichael. He was Thomas Carrisford’s lawyer. “We will find her. And then you can give her her fortune.”
Carrisford shook his head. The memories haunted him.
The diamond mines had held such promise! Then they seemed to fail. He thought he’d lost all his money.
Still, he could live with that. But what of his friend Captain Crewe? He had thought he had lost his money too.
But as it turned out, the mines were not worthless. They were filled with diamonds.
“My friend trusted me,” said Mr. Carrisford. “But he died thinking I had ruined him! How he must have hated me!”
“You must not blame yourself,” said Mr. Carmichael. “You were ill when all this happened. You were not yourself.”
Carrisford dropped his head in his hands. He knew Captain Crewe had a daughter. He knew she had gone away to school. If only he could remember where!
“Sometimes I dream of him,” said Carrisford. “He always asks the same question. ‘Tom! Where is my Little Soldier?’ ”
He grabbed Mr. Carmichael’s hand. “I must answer him!” he cried. “You must help me find her.”
Night came to the square. One by one the lights winked out. But two people were still awake long after the square was quiet.
One was Thomas Carrisford. He sat in his study, staring into the fire.
The other was Sara Crewe. She curled up on her hard bed. She stared up at the sky.
“Oh, Papa,” she whispered. “It seems so long ago since you were here. Since I was your Little Soldier.”
Sara had no way of knowing her father’s friend was looking for her. That he was just on the other side of the wall.
And Mr. Carrisford did not know the girl he was looking for was right next door.
16
The Hungry Child
It was an icy winter day. Sara clutched her market basket. She held her tattered hat against the wind. Her feet were freezing in the slushy streets. And she’d had nothing to eat all day.
The wind picked up. Sara put her head down.
Then she saw something. There! Something glittered in the gutter. She leaned down and picked it up.
A silver fourpenny piece!
Sara had just passed a shop. Mrs. Brown’s Bakery. Now she looked inside. A woman put a tray of hot buns in the window. Sara’s stomach growled.
Sara started to go in. But a child sat on the steps. Her face was dirty. Her hair was tangled. She was a bundle of rags! She stared at Sara with empty eyes.
“Are you hungry?” Sara asked the girl. “When did you last eat?”
“Dunno,” the girl whispered.
“Wait here,” Sara said.
She went into the bakery shop. “Excuse me,” she said. “Have you lost a silver fourpence?”
Mrs. Brown looked up. She stared at Sara’s thin face and ragged clothes. Clothes that had once been fine.
“Bless us, no,” she said. “Did you find one?”
“Yes,” said Sara. “In the gutter.” “Keep it, then,” said Mrs. Brown. “Goodness knows who lost it. You could never find out.”
Sara smiled with relief. “Four buns, then, please,” she said. “Those that are a penny each.”
Mrs. Brown went to the window. She put four buns in a bag. She glanced at Sara. Then she dropped in two more.
“I said four, if you please,” said Sara. “I only have fourpence.”
“Ah, well,” said Mrs. Brown. “I can’t put them back now, can I?”
She smiled at Sara. Then several people came in. She went to wait on them.
Sara went back outside. The girl was still there.
“Here,” said Sara. She held out a bun.
The child stared at her. Then she snatched the bread. She tore at it like a wild animal.
Sara sighed and gave her three more buns. She had never seen anyone so hungry!
Sara watched the girl eat. She put her hand in the bag one more time. She pulled out the fifth bun. Her hand trembled. Then she put the bun on the girl’s lap.
The girl was too hungry even to say thank you.
“Goodbye,” Sara said. Then she disappeared into the crowd.
Mrs. Brown saw it all. She opened the door. “How many buns did that girl give you?” she asked the child.
“Five.”
“She kept only one for herself?” Mrs. Brown exclaimed. She shook her head. “I’m sure she could have eaten all six.” She looked at the ragged girl again.
“Are you still hungry?” she asked.
“I’m always hungry,” said the girl.
Mrs. Brown held open the door. “Then come inside.”
Sara walked home with her bun. She tore off tiny pieces and ate slowly. It would last longer that way.
It was dark now. The lights were on in all the houses. Sara could see in the windows. She saw the gentleman next door. He was staring into the fire.
Across the square a door opened. The Large Family came out. The children kissed their father goodbye.
“We hope you find the little girl!” called the boy.
Mr. Carmichael got into his carriage. He was off to Paris, and then to Russia. He was off to search for a little girl. The lost daughter of Captain Crewe.
Sara watched the father of the Large Family drive away. Slowly she ate the last bite of bun. It was all the supper she’d get that night.
17
The Secret Party
Papa Rat crawled out of the wall. He sniffed the air. Sara was gone. But something was happening in the attic.
The window opened. Two men dropped to the floor. One was Ram Dass. The other was Mr. Carrisford’s secretary.
Papa Rat ran back into the wall.
“Was that a rat?” the young man cried.
“Yes,” said Ram Dass. “There are many in the walls.”
“Ugh,” said the man. “How can the child stand it?”
Ram Dass smiled. “The child is the friend of all things. I see her when she does not see me. The sparrows come when she calls. She has tamed the rat.”
The secretary took out a notebook. “What a place!” he said. He walked around the room. He wrote down notes.
Ram Dass smiled. He had shared an idea with Mr. Carrisford. Now they were going to make it come true.
Soon the two men left.
Papa Rat felt it was safe to come out again. Perhaps they had left some crumbs.
Cook had sent Sara to the market. But Sara still had many things to get. She hurried from shop to shop. She slipped in the mud and fell down. People turned and stared at her. Some even laughed.
Sara walked home in the dark. She was muddy and late. And she still did not have everything on her list.
“Why didn’t you stay all night?” Cook snapped as she took the market basket. “Where are the rest of my things?”
“The shops closed before I could get it all,” said Sara. “I’m sorry.”
“Why, you worthless girl!” cried Cook.
“Please,” said Sara. “May I have my dinner?”
“What!” cried Cook. “Does Princess Sara expect a hot supper? Not this late, my girl. Not even for a princess. Especially one who doesn’t do her work. The
re’s some bread. That’s all you’ll get tonight!”
The bread was hard and dry. But Sara took it. Yawning, she went to her room.
Ermengarde was waiting for her. She sat on the bed, wrapped in a red shawl. “Look, Sara. Papa sent me more books.”
Sara’s troubles were forgotten. She picked up a book. Carefully she turned the pages. “How beautiful!” she whispered.
“Papa will ask me questions about them,” Ermengarde said. “What shall I do?”
“I’ll read them,” said Sara. “Then I will tell you all the stories.”
“Oh, would you, Sara?” said Ermengarde. “Papa will be happy if I learn anything.”
Suddenly they heard footsteps on the stairs. Sara put her finger to her lips. She blew out the candle.
Miss Minchin was shouting at Becky.
“You greedy little thief!” cried Miss Minchin. “A whole meat pie is missing. You should be sent to prison!”
“It weren’t me, mum,” Becky sobbed. “I swear!”
“Liar!” cried Miss Minchin. “Go to bed this instant.” Sara and Ermengarde heard Miss Minchin slap Becky’s face! Then they heard her stomp downstairs.
“That wicked woman!” Sara whispered. She lit the candle again. Her face looked hard.
“Cook steals food,” she continued. “I’ve seen her! She gives it to her policeman boyfriend. Becky is hungry. But she never steals. Sometimes she eats scraps from the trash.”
Then Ermengarde saw something strange. Something she had never seen before. She saw Sara cry.
“Sara,” Ermengarde said. “Are you ever hungry?”
Sara was so tired. So hungry. So angry at Miss Minchin for being mean to Becky.
“Yes,” she said crossly. “I am so hungry right now, I could eat you!”
“Oh, Sara,” Ermengarde whispered. “I never knew.”
Then her face lit up. “How silly I am!” she said. “My aunt sent me a box today. It is full of good things to eat.”
“Oh, Ermengarde!” said Sara. “We can pretend it’s a party. Shall we invite the prisoner in the next cell?”
“Oh, yes,” said Ermengarde. “The jailer won’t hear.”
Sara went to the wall. She could hear Becky crying. She knocked four times. “That means: ‘Come through the secret passage,’ ” she told Ermengarde.
Five knocks answered. “That means she’s coming!”
Moments later Becky opened the door. But then she saw Ermengarde. One of the young ladies!
“Don’t worry, Becky,” said Sara. “Ermengarde is bringing us a party.”
Ermengarde peeked out the door. The hall was quiet. She hurried out. In her haste she dropped her red shawl.
“Come, Becky,” said Sara. “We must set the table.”
“With what, miss?” asked Becky.
Sara spied Ermengarde’s red shawl on the floor. “With this fine tablecloth!”
Then Sara found some old handkerchiefs. They became golden plates and fine linen napkins. She took flowers off an old hat. She put them in a cracked mug. “Here’s our centerpiece!”
Soon Ermengarde came back and opened her box. The food looked heavenly. Cake. Meat pies. Oranges. Even chocolates!
“It’s a queen’s table!” Becky said with a sigh.
Then Sara found some scraps of paper. She crumpled them in the fireplace. “It will only burn a minute,” she said. “But by then we will forget it’s not a real fire.”
Sara lit a match. The paper burst into bright, cheery flames.
“Princesses,” said Sara. “Be seated.”
The girls sat down and began to eat. Yum!
But then they sprang to their feet. Footsteps on the stairs. Someone was coming!
The door banged open. It was Miss Minchin! But she was not alone.
“See, Miss Minchin,” Lavinia purred. “I told you.”
“Becky,” Miss Minchin said. “Go to your room. Now!”
Ermengarde burst into tears. “It’s just a party,” she whimpered.
“So I see,” said Miss Minchin. “With ‘Princess Sara’ at the head of the table.”
She glared at Sara. “Tomorrow you shall have nothing to eat!” Then her eyes fell upon the books.
“Ermengarde!” she cried. “Your nice books—here in this dirty attic! I shall write to your father. What if he knew where you are tonight? What would he say?”
Miss Minchin felt Sara watching her. “What is it?” she snapped.
“I was wondering,” said Sara. “What if my papa saw where I am tonight? What would he say?”
The candlelight flickered on Sara’s face. Miss Minchin shivered.
“How—how dare you!” she managed to say. She swept the food into the box. She picked up the books. Then she shoved Ermengarde out the door.
Sara was alone. The bright fire was in ashes. She picked up Emily and held her tight. “There aren’t any princesses,” she said. “Only prisoners.”
Sara suddenly felt so tired. She crawled into bed. “Suppose there was a nice fire.” She yawned. “A hot supper on the table … Suppose …”
Sara was already asleep.
She didn’t see the face in the window. But the face saw everything.
18
The Magic
Sara woke up suddenly. It was still dark. At first she didn’t open her eyes. She felt so warm. Too warm!
“I must be dreaming,” she thought. But an odd sound kept her awake. A crackling sound.
Sara opened her eyes. A fire blazed in the grate. A table was set before the fire. It was crowded with dishes and a teapot. A bright lamp filled the room with soft light. A lamp with a rose-colored shade.
Sara sat up. She rubbed her eyes. There was a pretty satin quilt on her bed.
She swung her feet out of bed. The floor was covered with a thick blue rug.
It was the room of her dreams.
Sara ran to the fireplace. She held her hands to the fire. “A dream fire would not be so hot,” she told Emily.
She ran to the table. Steam rose from the dishes. “Real food!” she cried. “I am not dreaming!”
Then she saw a stack of books. She opened the top one. Someone had written a note. It said: “To the little girl in the attic. From a friend.”
Sara ran next door. “Becky!” she cried. She shook her friend. “Come quickly.”
Becky was still half asleep. She stumbled behind Sara. Then she saw Sara’s room. “Blimey!”
“It’s true!” said Sara. “The Magic has been here!”
Becky grabbed a muffin and jammed it into her mouth. “Perhaps we should hurry, miss. In case it melts away.”
The food was so good. Hot soup. Sandwiches. Muffins. Tea. They ate until they could not eat another bite.
“This may not be here in the morning,” Becky said.
“Yes,” said Sara. “But it is here tonight. And I shall never forget it.”
The school was abuzz the next morning. Everyone knew what Lavinia had done. Everyone knew Sara Crewe was in disgrace. What would happen to her?
Lavinia was not one bit sorry. “I’m surprised Miss Minchin didn’t throw Sara out for good,” she said.
Jessie frowned. “Where would she go?”
“How should I know?” said Lavinia. “Who cares?”
Miss Minchin waited for Sara. Sara was too proud. Surely she had broken her this time.
At last Sara came into the classroom. But she did not look broken. Her cheeks were rosy. She was even smiling!
“Sara Crewe!” said Miss Minchin. “Don’t you understand? You are in disgrace.”
“Yes, Miss Minchin,” Sara said.
“Well, then,” said Miss Minchin. “Do not forget it. And do not look so smug. You look as if you found a fortune. And remember. You get nothing to eat today.”
Sara just smiled. “Yes, Miss Minchin.”
“Perhaps she is pretending she had a good breakfast,” said Lavinia.
But no one laughed.
The weather was
awful that day. Cook was in a terrible mood. Everyone gave Sara more work to do.
But what did it matter? Her supper the night before had given her strength. And Sara had her Magic.
She saw Becky for only a moment that day. But they shared a secret smile.
It was late when Sara’s work was done. She almost flew up the stairs.
But she stopped at her door. Her heart fluttered like a caged bird.
“Perhaps it is all gone,” she whispered.
Slowly she opened the door. The room had changed. But nothing was gone. In fact, the Magic had been there again!
The dirty walls were covered with colorful cloth. Her bed had a new mattress and new pillows.
The fire was blazing once again. And two places were set for supper.
Sara knocked on the wall. Four times: “Come through the secret passage.”
The prisoner in the next cell knocked back five times: “I am coming.”
In seconds the door slammed open. Becky stood in the doorway.
“Oh, miss!” she cried. “It’s still here. Where does it all come from?”
“Let’s not even ask,” said Sara.
Joyfully they sat down to eat.
The Magic visited every day. Each day some new thing was added. A bookshelf. Fresh flowers. A new chair.
Miss Minchin was as mean as ever. The servants were just as rude. But it did not matter anymore.
“If you only knew!” Sara wanted to shout.
Then one day another Magic thing happened.
The doorbell rang. Sara went to open it. A man held out several packages. They were all addressed the same way: “To the Little Girl in the Right-Hand Attic.”
Miss Minchin saw the packages. “Don’t just stand there,” she told Sara. “Take them upstairs. Who are they for?”
“They are all for me,” said Sara.
“What!” Miss Minchin looked at the packages. “Open them at once!”
Sara obeyed. The boxes were full of beautiful clothes. Expensive clothes. A warm new coat.
A note said: “To be worn every day. Will be replaced by others when needed.”
Miss Minchin began to pace. She wrung her hands. What was going on? Had she made a mistake after all?
Perhaps Sara had an unknown friend. An unknown relative. Someone rich. Someone who would not like the way Miss Minchin treated Sara!
A Little Princess Page 4