1. Sara

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thickand heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lightedand the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was drivenrather slowly through the big thoroughfares.She sat with her feet tucked under her, and leaned against herfather, who held her in his arm, as she stared out of the windowat the passing people with a queer old-fashioned thoughtfulnessin her big eyes.She was such a little girl that one did not expect to see such alook on her small face. It would have been an old look for achild of twelve, and Sara Crewe was only seven. The fact was,however, that she was always dreaming and thinking odd things andcould not herself remember any time when she had not beenthinking things about grown-up people and the world they belongedto. She felt as if she had lived a long, long time.At this moment she was remembering the voyage she had just madefrom Bombay with her father, Captain Crewe. She was thinking ofthe big ship, of the Lascars passing silently to and fro on it,of the children playing about on the hot deck, and of some youngofficers' wives who used to try to make her talk to them andlaugh at the things she said.Principally, she was thinking of what a queer thing it was thatat one time one was in India in the blazing sun, and then in themiddle of the ocean, and then driving in a strange vehiclethrough strange streets where the day was as dark as the night.She found this so puzzling that she moved closer to her father."Papa," she said in a low, mysterious little voice which wasalmost a whisper, "papa.""What is it, darling?" Captain Crewe answered, holding hercloser and looking down into her face. "What is Sara thinkingof?""Is this the place?" Sara whispered, cuddling still closer tohim. "Is it, papa?""Yes, little Sara, it is. We have reached it at last." Andthough she was only seven years old, she knew that he felt sadwhen he said it.It seemed to her many years since he had begun to prepare hermind for "the place," as she always called it. Her mother haddied when she was born, so she had never known or missed her.Her young, handsome, rich, petting father seemed to be the onlyrelation she had in the world. They had always played togetherand been fond of each other. She only knew he was rich becauseshe had heard people say so when they thought she was notlistening, and she had also heard them say that when she grew upshe would be rich, too. She did not know all that being richmeant. She had always lived in a beautiful bungalow, and hadbeen used to seeing many servants who made salaams to her andcalled her "Missee Sahib," and gave her her own way ineverything. She had had toys and pets and an ayah who worshippedher, and she had gradually learned that people who were rich hadthese things. That, however, was all she knew about it.During her short life only one thing had troubled her, and thatthing was "the place" she was to be taken to some day. Theclimate of India was very bad for children, and as soon aspossible they were sent away from it--generally to England and toschool. She had seen other children go away, and had heard theirfathers and mothers talk about the letters they received fromthem. She had known that she would be obliged to go also, andthough sometimes her father's stories of the voyage and the newcountry had attracted her, she had been troubled by the thoughtthat he could not stay with her."Couldn't you go to that place with me, papa?" she had asked whenshe was five years old. "Couldn't you go to school, too? Iwould help you with your lessons.""But you will not have to stay for a very long time, littleSara," he had always said. "You will go to a nice house wherethere will be a lot of little girls, and you will play together,and I will send you plenty of books, and you will grow so fastthat it will seem scarcely a year before you are big enough andclever enough to come back and take care of papa."She had liked to think of that. To keep the house for herfather; to ride with him, and sit at the head of his table whenhe had dinner parties; to talk to him and read his books--thatwould be what she would like most in the world, and if one mustgo away to "the place" in England to attain it, she must make upher mind to go. She did not care very much for other littlegirls, but if she had plenty of books she could console herself.She liked books more than anything else, and was, in fact, alwaysinventing stories of beautiful things and telling them toherself. Sometimes she had told them to her father, and he hadliked them as much as she did."Well, papa," she said softly, "if we are here I suppose we mustbe resigned."He laughed at her old-fashioned speech and kissed her. He wasreally not at all resigned himself, though he knew he must keepthat a secret. His quaint little Sara had been a great companionto him, and he felt he should be a lonely fellow when, on hisreturn to India, he went into his bungalow knowing he need notexpect to see the small figure in its white frock come forward tomeet him. So he held her very closely in his arms as the cabrolled into the big, dull square in which stood the house whichwas their destination.It was a big, dull, brick house, exactly like all the others inits row, but that on the front door there shone a brass plate onwhich was engraved in black letters:Miss Minchin,Select Seminary for Young Ladies."Here we are, Sara," said Captain Crewe, making his voice soundas cheerful as possible. Then he lifted her out of the cab andthey mounted the steps and rang the bell. Sara often thoughtafterward that the house was somehow exactly like Miss Minchin.It was respectable and well furnished, but everything in it wasugly; and the very armchairs seemed to have hard bones in them.In the hall everything was hard and polished--even the red cheeksof the moon face on the tall clock in the corner had a severevarnished look. The drawing room into which they were usheredwas covered by a carpet with a square pattern upon it, the chairswere square, and a heavy marble timepiece stood upon the heavymarble mantel.As she sat down in one of the stiff mahogany chairs, Sara castone of her quick looks about her."I don't like it, papa," she said. "But then I dare saysoldiers-- even brave ones--don't really like going into battle."Captain Crewe laughed outright at this. He was young and fullof fun, and he never tired of hearing Sara's queer speeches."Oh, little Sara," he said. "What shall I do when I have no oneto say solemn things to me? No one else is as solemn as youare.""But why do solemn things make you laugh so?" inquired Sara."Because you are such fun when you say them," he answered,laughing still more. And then suddenly he swept her into hisarms and kissed her very hard, stopping laughing all at once andlooking almost as if tears had come into his eyes.It was just then that Miss Minchin entered the room. She wasvery like her house, Sara felt: tall and dull, and respectableand ugly. She had large, cold, fishy eyes, and a large, cold,fishy smile. It spread itself into a very large smile when shesaw Sara and Captain Crewe. She had heard a great many desirablethings of the young soldier from the lady who had recommended herschool to him. Among other things, she had heard that he was arich father who was willing to spend a great deal of money on hislittle daughter."It will be a great privilege to have charge of such a beautifuland promising child, Captain Crewe," she said, taking Sara'shand and stroking it. "Lady Meredith has told me of her unusualcleverness. A clever child is a great treasure in anestablishment like mine."Sara stood quietly, with her eyes fixed upon Miss Minchin'sface. She was thinking something odd, as usual."Why does she say I am a beautiful child?" she was thinking. "Iam not beautiful at all. Colonel Grange's little girl, Isobel,is beautiful. She has dimples and rose-colored cheeks, and longhair the color of gold. I have short black hair and green eyes;besides which, I am a thin child and not fair in the least. Iam one of the ugliest children I ever saw. She is beginning bytelling a story."She was mistaken, however, in thinking she was an ugly child.She was not in the least like Isobel Grange, who had been thebeauty of the regiment, but she had an odd charm of her own. Shewas a slim, supple creature, rather tall for her age, and had anintense, attractive little face. Her hair was heavy and quiteblack and only curled at the tips; her eyes were greenish gray,it is true, but they were big, wonderful eyes with long, blacklashes, and though she herself did not like the color of them,many other people did. Still she was very firm in her beliefthat she was an ugly little girl, and she was not at all elatedby Miss Minchin's flattery."I should be telling a story if I said she was beautiful," shethought; "and I should know I was telling a story. I believe Iam as ugly as she is--in my way. What did she say that for?"After she had known Miss Minchin longer she learned why she hadsaid it. She discovered that she said the same thing to eachpapa and mamma who brought a child to her school.Sara stood near her father and listened while he and Miss Minchintalked. She had been brought to the seminary because LadyMeredith's two little girls had been educated there, and CaptainCrewe had a great respect for Lady Meredith's experience. Sarawas to be what was known as "a parlor boarder," and she was toenjoy even greater privileges than parlor boarders usually did.She was to have a pretty bedroom and sitting room of her own; shewas to have a pony and a carriage, and a maid to take the placeof the ayah who had been her nurse in India."I am not in the least anxious about her education," CaptainCrewe said, with his gay laugh, as he held Sara's hand and pattedit. "The difficulty will be to keep her from learning too fastand too much. She is always sitting with her little noseburrowing into books. She doesn't read them, Miss Minchin; shegobbles them up as if she were a little wolf instead of a littlegirl. She is always starving for new books to gobble, and shewants grown-up books--great, big, fat ones--French and German aswell as English--history and biography and poets, and all sorts ofthings. Drag her away from her books when she reads too much.Make her ride her pony in the Row or go out and buy a new doll.She ought to play more with dolls.""Papa," said Sara, "you see, if I went out and bought a new dollevery few days I should have more than I could be fond of. Dollsought to be intimate friends. Emily is going to be my intimatefriend."Captain Crewe looked at Miss Minchin and Miss Minchin looked atCaptain Crewe."Who is Emily?" she inquired."Tell her, Sara," Captain Crewe said, smiling.Sara's green-gray eyes looked very solemn and quite soft as sheanswered."She is a doll I haven't got yet," she said. "She is a dollpapa is going to buy for me. We are going out together to findher. I have called her Emily. She is going to be my friend whenpapa is gone. I want her to talk to about him."Miss Minchin's large, fishy smile became very flattering indeed."What an original child!" she said. "What a darling littlecreature!""Yes," said Captain Crewe, drawing Sara close. "She is adarling little creature. Take great care of her for me, MissMinchin."Sara stayed with her father at his hotel for several days; infact, she remained with him until he sailed away again to India.They went out and visited many big shops together, and bought agreat many things. They bought, indeed, a great many more thingsthan Sara needed; but Captain Crewe was a rash, innocent youngman and wanted his little girl to have everything she admired andeverything he admired himself, so between them they collected awardrobe much too grand for a child of seven. There were velvetdresses trimmed with costly furs, and lace dresses, andembroidered ones, and hats with great, soft ostrich feathers, andermine coats and muffs, and boxes of tiny gloves andhandkerchiefs and silk stockings in such abundant supplies thatthe polite young women behind the counters whispered to eachother that the odd little girl with the big, solemn eyes must beat least some foreign princess--perhaps the little daughter of anIndian rajah.And at last they found Emily, but they went to a number of toyshops and looked at a great many dolls before they discoveredher."I want her to look as if she wasn't a doll really," Sara said."I want her to look as if she listens when I talk to her. Thetrouble with dolls, papa"--and she put her head on one side andreflected as she said it--"the trouble with dolls is that theynever seem to hear." So they looked at big ones and little ones--at dolls with black eyes and dolls with blue--at dolls withbrown curls and dolls with golden braids, dolls dressed and dollsundressed."You see," Sara said when they were examining one who had noclothes. "If, when I find her, she has no frocks, we can takeher to a dressmaker and have her things made to fit. They willfit better if they are tried on."After a number of disappointments they decided to walk and lookin at the shop windows and let the cab follow them. They hadpassed two or three places without even going in, when, as theywere approaching a shop which was really not a very large one,Sara suddenly started and clutched her father's arm."Oh, papa!" she cried. "There is Emily!"A flush had risen to her face and there was an expression in hergreen-gray eyes as if she had just recognized someone she wasintimate with and fond of."She is actually waiting there for us!" she said. "Let us go into her.""Dear me," said Captain Crewe, "I feel as if we ought to havesomeone to introduce us.""You must introduce me and I will introduce you," said Sara."But I knew her the minute I saw her--so perhaps she knew me,too."Perhaps she had known her. She had certainly a very intelligentexpression in her eyes when Sara took her in her arms. She was alarge doll, but not too large to carry about easily; she hadnaturally curling golden-brown hair, which hung like a mantleabout her, and her eyes were a deep, clear, gray-blue, withsoft, thick eyelashes which were real eyelashes and not merepainted lines."Of course," said Sara, looking into her face as she held her onher knee, "of course papa, this is Emily."So Emily was bought and actually taken to a children'soutfitter's shop and measured for a wardrobe as grand as Sara'sown. She had lace frocks, too, and velvet and muslin ones, andhats and coats and beautiful lace-trimmed underclothes, andgloves and handkerchiefs and furs."I should like her always to look as if she was a child with agood mother," said Sara. "I'm her mother, though I am going tomake a companion of her."Captain Crewe would really have enjoyed the shoppingtremendously, but that a sad thought kept tugging at his heart.This all meant that he was going to be separated from hisbeloved, quaint little comrade.He got out of his bed in the middle of that night and went andstood looking down at Sara, who lay asleep with Emily in herarms. Her black hair was spread out on the pillow and Emily'sgolden-brown hair mingled with it, both of them had lace-rufflednightgowns, and both had long eyelashes which lay and curled upon their cheeks. Emily looked so like a real child that CaptainCrewe felt glad she was there. He drew a big sigh and pulled hismustache with a boyish expression."Heigh-ho, little Sara!" he said to himself "I don't believe youknow how much your daddy will miss you."The next day he took her to Miss Minchin's and left her there.He was to sail away the next morning. He explained to MissMinchin that his solicitors, Messrs. Barrow & Skipworth, hadcharge of his affairs in England and would give her any adviceshe wanted, and that they would pay the bills she sent in forSara's expenses. He would write to Sara twice a week, and shewas to be given every pleasure she asked for."She is a sensible little thing, and she never wants anything itisn't safe to give her," he said.Then he went with Sara into her little sitting room and theybade each other good-by. Sara sat on his knee and held the lapelsof his coat in her small hands, and looked long and hard at hisface."Are you learning me by heart, little Sara?" he said, strokingher hair."No," she answered. "I know you by heart. You are inside myheart." And they put their arms round each other and kissed asif they would never let each other go.When the cab drove away from the door, Sara was sitting on thefloor of her sitting room, with her hands under her chin and hereyes following it until it had turned the corner of the square.Emily was sitting by her, and she looked after it, too. WhenMiss Minchin sent her sister, Miss Amelia, to see what the childwas doing, she found she could not open the door."I have locked it," said a queer, polite little voice frominside. "I want to be quite by myself, if you please."Miss Amelia was fat and dumpy, and stood very much in awe of hersister. She was really the better-natured person of the two, butshe never disobeyed Miss Minchin. She went downstairs again,looking almost alarmed."I never saw such a funny, old-fashioned child, sister," shesaid. "She has locked herself in, and she is not making theleast particle of noise.""It is much better than if she kicked and screamed, as some ofthem do," Miss Minchin answered. "I expected that a child asmuch spoiled as she is would set the whole house in an uproar.If ever a child was given her own way in everything, she is.""I've been opening her trunks and putting her things away," saidMiss Amelia. "I never saw anything like them--sable and ermineon her coats, and real Valenciennes lace on her underclothing.You have seen some of her clothes. What do you think of them?""I think they are perfectly ridiculous," replied Miss Minchin,sharply; "but they will look very well at the head of the linewhen we take the schoolchildren to church on Sunday. She hasbeen provided for as if she were a little princess."And upstairs in the locked room Sara and Emily sat on the floorand stared at the corner round which the cab had disappeared,while Captain Crewe looked backward, waving and kissing his handas if he could not bear to stop.