4. Lottie

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　If Sara had been a different kind of child, the life she led atMiss Minchin's Select Seminary for the next few years would nothave been at all good for her. She was treated more as if shewere a distinguished guest at the establishment than as if shewere a mere little girl. If she had been a self-opinionated,domineering child, she might have become disagreeable enough tobe unbearable through being so much indulged and flattered. Ifshe had been an indolent child, she would have learned nothing.Privately Miss Minchin disliked her, but she was far too worldlya woman to do or say anything which might make such a desirablepupil wish to leave her school. She knew quite well that if Sarawrote to her papa to tell him she was uncomfortable or unhappy,Captain Crewe would remove her at once. Miss Minchin's opinionwas that if a child were continually praised and never forbiddento do what she liked, she would be sure to be fond of the placewhere she was so treated. Accordingly, Sara was praised for herquickness at her lessons, for her good manners, for heramiability to her fellow pupils, for her generosity if she gavesixpence to a beggar out of her full little purse; the simplestthing she did was treated as if it were a virtue, and if she hadnot had a disposition and a clever little brain, she might havebeen a very self-satisfied young person. But the clever littlebrain told her a great many sensible and true things aboutherself and her circumstances, and now and then she talked thesethings over to Ermengarde as time went on."Things happen to people by accident," she used to say. "A lotof nice accidents have happened to me. It just happened that Ialways liked lessons and books, and could remember things when Ilearned them. It just happened that I was born with a father whowas beautiful and nice and clever, and could give me everything Iliked. Perhaps I have not really a good temper at all, but ifyou have everything you want and everyone is kind to you, how canyou help but be good-tempered? I don't know"--looking quiteserious--"how I shall ever find out whether I am really a nicechild or a horrid one. Perhaps I'm a hideous child, and no onewill ever know, just because I never have any trials.""Lavinia has no trials," said Ermengarde, stolidly, "and she ishorrid enough."Sara rubbed the end of her little nose reflectively, as shethought the matter over."Well," she said at last, "perhaps--perhaps that is becauseLavinia is growing." This was the result of a charitablerecollection of having heard Miss Amelia say that Lavinia wasgrowing so fast that she believed it affected her health andtemper.Lavinia, in fact, was spiteful. She was inordinately jealous ofSara. Until the new pupil's arrival, she had felt herself theleader in the school. She had led because she was capable ofmaking herself extremely disagreeable if the others did notfollow her. She domineered over the little children, and assumedgrand airs with those big enough to be her companions. She wasrather pretty, and had been the best-dressed pupil in theprocession when the Select Seminary walked out two by two, untilSara's velvet coats and sable muffs appeared, combined withdrooping ostrich feathers, and were led by Miss Minchin at thehead of the line. This, at the beginning, had been bitterenough; but as time went on it became apparent that Sara was aleader, too, and not because she could make herself disagreeable,but because she never did."There's one thing about Sara Crewe," Jessie had enraged her"best friend" by saying honestly, "she's never `grand' aboutherself the least bit, and you know she might be, Lavvie. Ibelieve I couldn't help being--just a little--if I had so manyfine things and was made such a fuss over. It's disgusting, theway Miss Minchin shows her off when parents come.""`Dear Sara must come into the drawing room and talk to Mrs.Musgrave about India,'" mimicked Lavinia, in her most highlyflavored imitation of Miss Minchin. "`Dear Sara must speakFrench to Lady Pitkin. Her accent is so perfect.' She didn'tlearn her French at the Seminary, at any rate. And there'snothing so clever in her knowing it. She says herself she didn'tlearn it at all. She just picked it up, because she always heardher papa speak it. And, as to her papa, there is nothing sogrand in being an Indian officer.""Well," said Jessie, slowly, "he's killed tigers. He killed theone in the skin Sara has in her room. That's why she likes itso. She lies on it and strokes its head, and talks to it as ifit was a cat.""She's always doing something silly," snapped Lavinia. "Mymamma says that way of hers of pretending things is silly. Shesays she will grow up eccentric."It was quite true that Sara was never "grand." She was afriendly little soul, and shared her privileges and belongingswith a free hand. The little ones, who were accustomed to beingdisdained and ordered out of the way by mature ladies aged tenand twelve, were never made to cry by this most envied of themall. She was a motherly young person, and when people fell downand scraped their knees, she ran and helped them up and pattedthem, or found in her pocket a bonbon or some other article of asoothing nature. She never pushed them out of her way or alludedto their years as a humiliation and a blot upon their smallcharacters."If you are four you are four," she said severely to Lavinia onan occasion of her having--it must be confessed--slapped Lottieand called her "a brat;" "but you will be five next year, andsix the year after that. And," opening large, convicting eyes,"it takes sixteen years to make you twenty.""Dear me," said Lavinia, "how we can calculate!" In fact, itwas not to be denied that sixteen and four made twenty--andtwenty was an age the most daring were scarcely bold enough todream of.So the younger children adored Sara. More than once she hadbeen known to have a tea party, made up of these despised ones,in her own room. And Emily had been played with, and Emily's owntea service used-- the one with cups which held quite a lot ofmuch-sweetened weak tea and had blue flowers on them. No one hadseen such a very real doll's tea set before. From that afternoonSara was regarded as a goddess and a queen by the entire alphabetclass.Lottle Legh worshipped her to such an extent that if Sara had notbeen a motherly person, she would have found her tiresome.Lottie had been sent to school by a rather flighty young papawho could not imagine what else to do with her. Her young motherhad died, and as the child had been treated like a favorite dollor a very spoiled pet monkey or lap dog ever since the first hourof her life, she was a very appalling little creature. When shewanted anything or did not want anything she wept and howled;and, as she always wanted the things she could not have, and didnot want the things that were best for her, her shrill littlevoice was usually to be heard uplifted in wails in one part ofthe house or another.Her strongest weapon was that in some mysterious way she hadfound out that a very small girl who had lost her mother was aperson who ought to be pitied and made much of. She had probablyheard some grown-up people talking her over in the early days,after her mother's death. So it became her habit to make greatuse of this knowledge.The first time Sara took her in charge was one morning when, onpassing a sitting room, she heard both Miss Minchin and MissAmelia trying to suppress the angry wails of some child who,evidently, refused to be silenced. She refused so strenuouslyindeed that Miss Minchin was obliged to almost shout--in astately and severe manner-- to make herself heard."What is she crying for?" she almost yelled."Oh--oh--oh!" Sara heard; "I haven't got any mam--ma-a!""Oh, Lottie!" screamed Miss Amelia. "Do stop, darling! Don'tcry! Please don't!""Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Lottle howled tempestuously. "Haven't--got--any--mam--ma-a!""She ought to be whipped," Miss Minchin proclaimed. "You shallbe whipped, you naughty child!"Lottle wailed more loudly than ever. Miss Amelia began to cry.Miss Minchin's voice rose until it almost thundered, thensuddenly she sprang up from her chair in impotent indignation andflounced out of the room, leaving Miss Amelia to arrange thematter.Sara had paused in the hall, wondering if she ought to go intothe room, because she had recently begun a friendly acquaintancewith Lottie and might be able to quiet her. When Miss Minchincame out and saw her, she looked rather annoyed. She realizedthat her voice, as heard from inside the room, could not havesounded either dignified or amiable."Oh, Sara!" she exclaimed, endeavoring to produce a suitablesmile."I stopped," explained Sara, "because I knew it was Lottie-- andI thought, perhaps--just perhaps, I could make her be quiet. MayI try, Miss Minchin?""If you can, you are a clever child," answered Miss Minchin,drawing in her mouth sharply. Then, seeing that Sara lookedslightly chilled by her asperity, she changed her manner. "Butyou are clever in everything," she said in her approving way. "Idare say you can manage her. Go in." And she left her.When Sara entered the room, Lottie was lying upon the floor,screaming and kicking her small fat legs violently, and MissAmelia was bending over her in consternation and despair, lookingquite red and damp with heat. Lottie had always found, when inher own nursery at home, that kicking and screaming would alwaysbe quieted by any means she insisted on. Poor plump Miss Ameliawas trying first one method, and then another."Poor darling," she said one moment, "I know you haven't anymamma, poor--" Then in quite another tone, "If you don't stop,Lottie, I will shake you. Poor little angel! There--! Youwicked, bad, detestable child, I will smack you! I will!"Sara went to them quietly. She did not know at all what she wasgoing to do, but she had a vague inward conviction that it wouldbe better not to say such different kinds of things quite sohelplessly and excitedly."Miss Amelia," she said in a low voice, "Miss Minchin says I maytry to make her stop--may I?"Miss Amelia turned and looked at her hopelessly. "Oh, do youthink you can?" she gasped."I don't know whether I can", answered Sara, still in her half-whisper; "but I will try."Miss Amelia stumbled up from her knees with a heavy sigh, andLottie's fat little legs kicked as hard as ever."If you will steal out of the room," said Sara, "I will staywith her.""Oh, Sara!" almost whimpered Miss Amelia. "We never had such adreadful child before. I don't believe we can keep her."But she crept out of the room, and was very much relieved tofind an excuse for doing it.Sara stood by the howling furious child for a few moments, andlooked down at her without saying anything. Then she sat downflat on the floor beside her and waited. Except for Lottie'sangry screams, the room was quite quiet. This was a new state ofaffairs for little Miss Legh, who was accustomed, when shescreamed, to hear other people protest and implore and commandand coax by turns. To lie and kick and shriek, and find the onlyperson near you not seeming to mind in the least, attracted herattention. She opened her tight-shut streaming eyes to see whothis person was. And it was only another little girl. But itwas the one who owned Emily and all the nice things. And she waslooking at her steadily and as if she was merely thinking.Having paused for a few seconds to find this out, Lottie thoughtshe must begin again, but the quiet of the room and of Sara'sodd, interested face made her first howl rather half-hearted."I--haven't--any--ma--ma--ma-a!" she announced; but her voice wasnot so strong.Sara looked at her still more steadily, but with a sort ofunderstanding in her eyes."Neither have I," she said.This was so unexpected that it was astounding. Lottie actuallydropped her legs, gave a wriggle, and lay and stared. A new ideawill stop a crying child when nothing else will. Also it wastrue that while Lottie disliked Miss Minchin, who was cross, andMiss Amelia, who was foolishly indulgent, she rather liked Sara,little as she knew her. She did not want to give up hergrievance, but her thoughts were distracted from it, so shewriggled again, and, after a sulky sob, said, "Where is she?"Sara paused a moment. Because she had been told that her mammawas in heaven, she had thought a great deal about the matter, andher thoughts had not been quite like those of other people."She went to heaven," she said. "But I am sure she comes outsometimes to see me--though I don't see her. So does yours.Perhaps they can both see us now. Perhaps they are both in thisroom."Lottle sat bolt upright, and looked about her. She was apretty, little, curly-headed creature, and her round eyes werelike wet forget-me-nots. If her mamma had seen her during thelast half-hour, she might not have thought her the kind of childwho ought to be related to an angel.Sara went on talking. Perhaps some people might think that whatshe said was rather like a fairy story, but it was all so real toher own imagination that Lottie began to listen in spite ofherself. She had been told that her mamma had wings and a crown,and she had been shown pictures of ladies in beautiful whitenightgowns, who were said to be angels. But Sara seemed to betelling a real story about a lovely country where real peoplewere."There are fields and fields of flowers," she said, forgettingherself, as usual, when she began, and talking rather as if shewere in a dream, "fields and fields of lilies--and when the softwind blows over them it wafts the scent of them into the air--andeverybody always breathes it, because the soft wind is alwaysblowing. And little children run about in the lily fields andgather armfuls of them, and laugh and make little wreaths. Andthe streets are shining. And people are never tired, however farthey walk. They can float anywhere they like. And there arewalls made of pearl and gold all round the city, but they are lowenough for the people to go and lean on them, and look down ontothe earth and smile, and send beautiful messages."Whatsoever story she had begun to tell, Lottie would, no doubt,have stopped crying, and been fascinated into listening; butthere was no denying that this story was prettier than mostothers. She dragged herself close to Sara, and drank in everyword until the end came--far too soon. When it did come, she wasso sorry that she put up her lip ominously."I want to go there," she cried. "I--haven't any mamma in thisschool."Sara saw the danger signal, and came out of her dream. She tookhold of the chubby hand and pulled her close to her side with acoaxing little laugh."I will be your mamma," she said. "We will play that you are mylittle girl. And Emily shall be your sister."Lottie's dimples all began to show themselves."Shall she?" she said."Yes," answered Sara, jumping to her feet. "Let us go and tellher. And then I will wash your face and brush your hair."To which Lottie agreed quite cheerfully, and trotted out of theroom and upstairs with her, without seeming even to remember thatthe whole of the last hour's tragedy had been caused by the factthat she had refused to be washed and brushed for lunch and MissMinchin had been called in to use her majestic authority.And from that time Sara was an adopted mother.