Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Talking about the Diamond Mine Again

In the afternoon, when everyone marched into the classroom with the holly hanging, Sarah led the way.Miss Minchin, in her richest silk dress, led her by the hand.A manservant followed with the case containing the "last doll," a maid carried the second gift case, and Becky carried the third at the end of the procession, wearing a clean apron and wearing a new hat.Sarah preferred to go into the classroom as usual, but Ms. Minchin sent for her to be called to her sitting room, and had an interview to state her intentions. "This is not an ordinary occasion," she said. "I don't want to treat it as normal."

So Sarah was ushered into the classroom in such a stately way, and as soon as she came in, the big girls stared at her and bumped elbows, and the little girls began to squirm happily in their seats, which made Sarah feel a little nervous. shy. "Quiet, young ladies!" said Miss Minchin over the uproar. "James, put the box on the table and open the lid. Emma, ​​put yours on the chair. Becky!" The voice suddenly stern. Completely carried away with excitement, Becky was grinning at Lottie, who was writhing in rapturous anticipation.The accusing voice startled Becky, and nearly dropped the box on the floor. She was frightened, and curtseyed and apologized, so funny that Lavinia and Jessie burst out laughing.

"Your position is beyond that of young ladies," said Miss Minchin. "You have forgotten who you are. Put down the box you were carrying." Becky obeyed with vigilance, and retreated hastily to the door. "You may go," said Miss Minchin, waving to the servants. Becky stepped aside respectfully, letting the high-ranking servants go out first.She could not help casting a longing glance at the box on the table.Something made of blue satin could be seen peeking through the creases of the thin wrapping paper. "With your permission, Miss Minchin," said Sarah suddenly, "will Becky stay?"

This is a bold move.Miss Minchin was so flustered that she jumped unconsciously.She then pushed up her glasses and stared anxiously at her flamboyant student. "Becky!" she yelled. "My dearest Sarah!" Sarah took a step closer to her. "I want her because I know she loves looking at those presents," Sara explained. "You know, she's a little girl too." Ms Minchin was annoyed.She looked from one to the other. "My dear Sarah," said she, "Becky's a kitchen maid, and a kitchen maid—well—isn't much of a girl." She really never thought about it that way.Kitchen maids are nothing more than machines for carrying coal boxes and lighting fires.

"But Becky's a little girl," said Sarah. "And I know she can enjoy herself here. Please let her stay—because it's my birthday." Ms. Minchin replied solemnly: "Since you asked for this as a birthday treat--she can stay. Rebecca, go and thank Miss Sarah for her kindness." ① This is Becky's real name, Becky is a nickname. Becky had recoiled into the corner of the room, and was rubbing the hem of her apron in a mixture of joy and uneasiness.Now she came forward, curtseying, Sarah's eyes flashing a gleam of understanding friendship between hers, while her words came out stammering.

"Oh, if you'll let me, miss! I'm so grateful to you, miss! I'd love to see that doll, miss, so it is. Thank you, miss. Thank you too, miss," --turning to Minchin in awe. The lady curtsies--"For you to allow me to take the liberty." Miss Minchin waved again -- this time to the corner of the room near the door. "Go, stand there," she ordered. "Don't get too close to the ladies." Becky grinned and walked to her place.She didn't care where she was sent, as long as she was lucky enough to stay in the room instead of downstairs in the kitchen while all these festivities were going on here.She did not even notice that at this moment Miss Minchin cleared her throat beforehand to indicate that she was going to speak again.

"Now, ladies, I have a few words to say to you," she preached. "She's about to give a speech," a girl whispered. "I hope it's over." Sarah felt a little uncomfortable.Since it was a celebration for her, probably this speech was made just for her.Standing in a classroom and listening to someone give a speech on your matter is really not a pleasant thing. "You already know, ladies;" began the speech--and it was a speech--"my dear Sarah is eleven years old today." "Dear Sarah!" murmured Lavinia. "Some of you here are eleven, too, but Sarah's birthday is different from other little girls' birthdays. When she's older, she'll be the heir to a fortune whose honorable use will be her responsibility."

"Those diamond mines," Jessie whispered, giggling.Sarah did not hear the words, but she felt hot all over as she stood looking intently at Miss Minchin with her green-gray eyes.Sarah somehow felt that she always hated Ms. Minchin when she talked about money--of course, it was disrespectful to hold a grudge against an adult. "When her dear papa, Captain Crewe, brought her from India to entrust her to my care," continued the speech, "he said to me half-jokingly: I'm afraid she's going to be very rich, Ms. Minchin. My answer Yes: Her education in my indoctrination, Captain Crewe, will honor the greatest possession. Sara has become my most educated pupil. Her French and dancing are the honor of the indoctrination. Her character is perfect -- that's why you call her Princess Sara. She invited you to this afternoon's celebration as a gesture of goodwill. I hope you appreciate her generosity. And to say thank you, I want you to say out loud together: Thank you , Sarah!"

The whole class stood up, just as Sarah remembered doing that morning so well. "Thank you, Sarah!" said the crew, and it must be noted that Lottie was jumping up and down with delight.Sara looked a little shy for a moment.She curtseyed -- and it was a very good curtsy. "Thank you for coming to my celebration," she said. "Very well done indeed, Sarah," said Miss Minchin approvingly. "That's what a real princess does when the people are cheering her on. Lavinia!" --increasingly sharp--"The sound you just made sounded like a snort. If you envy your Classmates, I beg you to express your affection in a more ladylike manner. Now I am leaving you, and you can play with yourselves."

She went out of the room so quickly that the magic that had always held them in her presence was broken in an instant.The doors were barely closed and every seat was empty.The little girls jumped or tumbled from their seats, and the older girls were eager to get out of their seats.Everyone rushed to those gift boxes.Sarah was now bending over one of the boxes, smiling. "These are books, I know," she said. There was a groan of disappointment from the younger children, and Ermengarde looked surprised. "Did your dad get you a book for your birthday?" she called. "Humph, he's as bad as my dad. Don't open it, Sara."

"I like them," Sara said with a smile, but she turned to the largest box.She took out the "last doll", she was so exquisite that the children let out a burst of joyful admiration, and even gathered around to look at it carefully, breathless with joy. "She's almost as big as Lottie," gasped one of the children. Lottie clapped her hands, jumped up and down, and giggled. "She was dressed for the theater," said Lavinia. "The lining of her coat is made of ermine." "Ah!" cried Ermengarde, rushing forward, "she has a theatrical telescope in her hand—a blue and gold one." "Her trunk is here," Sarah said. "Let's open it up and see her stuff." Sarah sat down on the floor and turned the key.The children huddled around her and yelled at her as she took out the spacers from the box, revealing their contents.The classroom had never been so noisy.There were lace collars, stockings, and handkerchiefs; a casket containing a necklace and a tiara that looked as though they were made of real diamonds; a long coat of sealskin with leather muffs; many costumes for balls, walks, and outings; hats, tea-dresses, and fans of all kinds.Even Lavinia and Jessie, forgetting that they were long past the age of playing with dolls, yelled with delight and picked up the things to examine them. "Suppose," said Sara, standing by the table, putting a great black velvet hat on the head of the owner of all these finery and the ever-fixed smile, "suppose she knew the language of men , would be proud to be admired." "You're always making assumptions," Lavinia said, very haughtily. "I know I am," Sarah replied flatly. "I love hypotheses. There's nothing more fun than hypothesizing. It's almost like being a fairy. If you think hard about something, it seems to be true." "If you've got everything, it's fine to make assumptions," Lavinia said. "If you're a beggar living in a pavilion, can you assume and pretend to be anything?" Sarah paused to adjust the ostrich feathers of the "last doll," looking thoughtful. "I believe I can," she said. "If a person is a beggar, he has to always assume and pretend. But it may not be easy." She often thought afterward how strange it was that at the end of her sentence--and at this exact moment--Miss Amelia came into the room. "Sarah," said she, "your father's lawyer, Mr. Barrow, is calling on Miss Minchin, and as she must speak to Mr. Barrow alone, and tea has been set up in her drawing room, you had better go now." Take a seat so that my sister can receive her guests in this classroom." Refreshment is never underestimated, so the eyes are brightened.Miss Amelia formed the procession, led by Sarah at her side, and she led them away, leaving the "last doll" to sit on a chair, the great suit of finery scattered about. Around her, gowns and coats hung from the backs of chairs, and piles of lace petticoats lay on the seats. Becky, of course, could not be expected to share the tea, and it was rash indeed for her to linger for a moment to admire these beauties. "Go back to your work, Becky," Miss Amelia had called to her, but she stayed behind and picked up reverently first a muff, then a coat, just as When she stood admiringly admiringly, she heard that Ms. Minchin had come to the threshold. Thinking that she would be scolded for being so casual, she couldn't help being frightened, and in a hurry she got under the table, where the tablecloth covered her. Miss Minchin entered the room, accompanied by a small gentleman with a chiseled face, dry skin, and a disturbed expression.Miss Minchin herself, it must be said, looked very disturbed, and watched the wizened little gentleman with an expression of annoyance and bewilderment. She sat down stiffly with her shelf in hand, waved her hand, and pointed to him a chair. "Please sit down, Mr. Barrow," she said. Mr. Barrow did not sit down at once.The "last doll" and the clothes around her seemed to grab his attention.He adjusted his glasses and looked at them anxiously.And the "last doll" doesn't seem to care at all.She just sat there straight, looking back at his gaze indifferently. "One hundred pounds," said Mr. Barrow flatly. "It's all expensive stuff, and it's made in a dresser in Paris. He's a spendthrift, young man." Ms. Minchin was offended.This seems to be a slander to her best employer, which is too presumptuous. Even lawyers have no right to be so presumptuous. "Excuse me, Mr. Barrow," she said stiffly. "I don't understand you." "Birthday present," said Mr. Barrow, still in the same critical manner, "for an eleven-year-old! Crazy extravagance, I think." Miss Minchin straightened her chest and stiffened even more. "Captain Crewe is a rich man," she said. "Diamond mines alone Mr. Barrow turned to face her. "Diamond mines!" he cried suddenly. "Not one! Never!" Ms. Minchin jumped up from her chair. "What!" she cried. "what do you mean?" "At any rate," replied Mr. Barrow, very grumpily, "it would be much better if there had never been." "No diamond mines?" cried Miss Minchin, clutching the back of a chair, as if feeling that a dream was about to die. "Diamond mines tend to invite destruction rather than wealth," Mr Barrow said. "If a man falls into the hands of a very intimate friend, and is not a man of action himself, it is better to keep away from diamond mines, or gold mines, or any other mines, which the intimate friend wants him to invest in. The late Captain Crewe--" At this point Miss Minchin interrupted him with a gasp. "The late Captain Crewe!" she cried, "the late! Are you here to tell me that Captain Crewe has--" "He's dead, ma'am," Mr. Barrow answered curtly, stammering. "Died from a combination of tropical malaria and business troubles. Tropical malaria wouldn't have killed him if business troubles hadn't driven him mad. And business troubles wouldn't have killed him." Sympathy. "You'd better not pay her any more, ma'am," he said, "unless you give the lady a present on purpose. There's not a penny that can be called hers." No one will pay you. "But what am I going to do?" Ms. Minchin demanded, as if thinking it was the other party's fault to fix the situation. "What should I do?" "There's nothing to do," said Mr. Barrow, folding up his spectacles and slipping them into his pocket. " Captain Crewe is dead.The child became a pauper.No one is responsible for her but you. " "I am not responsible for her, I refuse to accept it!" Miss Minchin turned pale with anger. Mr. Barrow turned to go. "I have nothing to do with it, ma'am," he said dryly. "Barrow & Skipworth has no responsibility for this. Of course, unfortunately, it happened." "If you're trying to force her on me, you're making a huge mistake," said Miss Minchin breathlessly. "I've been lied to, robbed, and I'm going to throw her out on the street!" If she hadn't been so furious and thoughtful, she wouldn't have said so much.Finding the pampered child she had always resented a heavy burden to her, she lost all self-control. Mr. Barrow walked quietly towards the door. "I wouldn't do that, ma'am," he opined. "It doesn't look good. Gossip about the school's reputation. Pupils kicked out, penniless and friendless." He is a shrewd man of action who knows what he has to say.He knew that Miss Minchin was also a man of action, shrewd enough to see the truth of the matter.She can't afford to be called cruel and hard-hearted. "Better keep her and use her," he went on. "She's a bright kid, I'm sure. You'll get a lot out of her when she's older." "I'm going to get a lot out of her before she's any older," cried Ms. Minchin. "I trust you will, ma'am," said Mr. Barrow, with a sinister smile. "I'm sure you will. Goodbye!" He bowed out and closed the door.It must be said that Ms. Minchin stood staring at the door for several minutes.What he just said is the truth.She understands this.There is absolutely no remedy.Her ostentatious student was gone, and all that was left was a helpless and penniless little girl.All the money she had advanced in advance was lost, and it was impossible to get it back. As she stood there breathless and hurt, a burst of joyous chatter and laughter burst into her ears from her own sacrosanct room, the one that had been released for the celebration.She could at least end the celebration immediately. But as she made her way to the door, Miss Amelia pushed it open and stepped back in surprise, seeing her face distorted with rage. "What's the matter, sister?" cried Miss Amelia in surprise.Miss Minchin answered in an almost vicious tone: "Where is Sarah Crewe?" Miss Amelia was puzzled. "Sarah!" she faltered. "Why, of course she's in your room with the children." "Doesn't she have a black dress in her luxurious wardrobe?" -- a biting mocking tone. "A black dress?" Miss Amelia hesitated again. "A black one?" "She has them in every other colour. Isn't there a black one?" Miss Amelia began to turn pale. "No--yes--yes!" she said. "But she's too short. All she has is the black velvet one, and it's too big for her now." "Go, tell her to take off that ridiculous pink silk tulle and put on the black one." Yes, make it too long or too short. She's no longer going to be fashionable!" So Miss Amelia began to wring her fat hands and cry. "Oh, sister!" she sobbed. "Oh, sister! What's the matter?" Miss Minchin didn't waste her time talking. "Captain Crewe is dead," she said. "Died without a penny. That spoiled, pampered, cranky kid fell into my hands a pauper." Miss Amelia sat down heavily in a nearby chair. "I've spent hundreds of pounds pointlessly for her. And I'll never get a penny back. Stop her ridiculous party at once. Get her to change that dress she's wearing." "Me?" Amelia gasped. "Do I—do I have to go and tell her now?" "Go right away!" The other party replied viciously. "Don't sit and stare like a goose. Go!" Poor Miss Amelia is used to being called a mother goose.She knew that in reality she was a goose, and that it was the goose's job to do a great deal of misfortune.It would be a little embarrassing to go into a room full of happy children and tell the host of the feast that she has suddenly been reduced to a little pauper and has to go upstairs and put on an old little black dress matter.But it must be done.Now is clearly not the time to ask questions. ① According to the word, it can mean "fool, idiot". She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, making them very red.Then she got up and walked out of the room, not daring to say another word.When her sister spoke as she had just done, the wisest thing to do was to obey the order without saying a word.Ms. Minchin walked across the room.She was talking to herself aloud, not knowing what she was doing.Rumors of diamond mines last year reminded her to consider the possibilities.Even the owner of the training institute could make a fortune in stocks, as long as the mine owner was willing to help, but now instead of expecting to get rich, she had to look back at the losses she had suffered. "Princess Sara, well said!" she said. "The child is pampered like a real queen." As she spoke, she brushed furiously across the corner table, and was startled when she heard a loud whimpering and sobbing from under the tablecloth. "Who is it!" she cried angrily, and hearing the loud whimper again, she stooped and lifted the hanging tablecloth. "How bold you are!" she cried, "how dare you! Come out!" It was poor Becky, crawling out, with her cap knocked askew, and flushed and suppressed weeping. "I'm sorry, ma'am—it's me, ma'am," she explained. "I know it shouldn't be like this, but I was looking at the dolls, and the lady--you frightened me when you came in--went under the table." "You stayed there and listened," Ms. Minchin said. "No, ma'am," Becky argued, curtseying. "No—I thought I could have slipped out without you noticing, but I couldn't, and had to stay. But I didn't, ma'am—I didn't want to hear anything. But I had to." Suddenly, as if she was not at all afraid of the dreadful lady before her, she burst into tears again. "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," said she, "I dare say you're going to dismiss my wife, but how sorry I am for poor Miss Sarah--how I am!" "Get out of this room!" Minqin ordered. Becky saluted again, tears streaming down her cheeks without hesitation. "Yes, ma'am, I'll go, ma'am," she said, trembling, "but, oh, I just want to ask you: Miss Sarah--she's always been a rich lady, well attended to, and now What's to be done, ma'am, without a maid? If--oh, please, will you let me wait on her after the pots are done? I'll do it quickly--if you Let me go and wait on her, and she's poor now. Oh," cried Becky again, "poor Miss Sarah, ma'am—she was called a princess." Somehow she made Ms. Minchin angrier.It was intolerable for such a kitchen girl to be on the side of the child whom she knew more thoroughly than ever before that she had never liked her.She stomped her feet angrily. "No -- of course not," she said. "She'll serve herself, and she'll have to serve others. Get out of the room at once, or you'll be fired." Becky threw the apron over her head and ran away.She ran out of the room, down the steps, into the kitchen and scullery, and sat down among her pots, crying as if her heart would break. "Exactly like the princesses in those stories," she cried bitterly, "these poor princesses were driven into this world one by one." A few hours later, Sarah received a message from Ms. Minchin and came to her. Her expression was very cold and serious, which was unprecedented. Even up to this point, it seemed to Sara that the birthday celebration was not a dream, but an event that had happened years ago and seemed to have happened in an entirely different little girl's life. All signs of the celebration had been swept away; the holly sprigs had been removed from the classroom walls, and the benches and desks had been replaced in their original places.Ms. Minchin's sitting-room was restored to its old look -- all traces of the celebratory party gone, and Ms. Minchin put on her usual attire again, ordering the students to pack up their meeting dresses as well.After doing these things well, they returned to the classroom and gathered together in groups of three or four, whispering and talking very excitedly. "Call Sarah to my room," said Miss Minchin to her sister, "and make it clear to her that I don't want her to cry, or see anything unpleasant." "Sister," replied Amelia, "she is the most peculiar child I have ever seen. She did not cry at all. Do you remember that she did not cry when Captain Crewe returned to India. I told What happened to her, she just stood there looking at me, not saying a word. Her eyes got bigger and bigger, and her face became very pale. When I finished, she still stood and stared for a few minutes Seconds later, her jaw began to quiver, and she turned and ran out of the room and up the stairs. Several of the other children began to cry, but she didn't seem to hear, and she didn't respond to anything but what I had just said. It made me feel It's odd that she didn't answer me, because when you say anything weird that comes up, you're supposed to say something--whatever it is." No one but Sarah herself knew what happened in her room after she ran upstairs and locked the door.In fact, she can hardly remember anything, she just remembers walking around, talking to herself over and over again, and the voice does not seem to be her own: "My dad is dead! My dad is dead!" Once she stopped in front of Emily--Emily was sitting in a chair looking at her--and exclaimed petulantly: "Emily! Do you hear that? Do you hear--Is Papa dead? She died in India - thousands of miles away." When Sara was summoned to Miss Minchin's sitting-room, she was pale, with dark circles around her eyes, and her mouth was tightly shut, as if unwilling to let it reveal what she had suffered and was suffering.She looked nothing like the rosy Butterfly girl flying from one treasure to the other in the colorful classroom, but a strange, forlorn and slightly grotesque little person. Without Mariette's help, she put on the black velvet dress that had been abandoned long ago.It was too short and too tight, and the two slender legs were exposed under the too short skirt, making it look long and thin.Because she couldn't find a black hair tie, her thick black hair fell loosely around her face, in stark contrast to her pale complexion.An arm was wrapped around Emily, who was wrapped in a black material. "Put down your doll," said Ms. Minchin. "What do you mean by bringing it here?" "No," Sarah replied, "I don't want to put her down. She's all I have. My father gave her to me." She had often made Miss Minchin vaguely unhappy, and she was doing so now.She did not speak harshly, but with a cold obstinacy at best, which made Miss Minchin difficult to deal with--perhaps because she knew she was doing a brutal thing. "You don't have time to play with dolls anymore," she said. "You must work, you must improve yourself, and make yourself useful." Sarah continued to stare at her with her strangely large eyes, without saying a word. "Everything is very different now," continued Ms. Minchin. "I think Amelia has explained the situation to you." "Yes," Sarah replied. "My father died. He left me no money. I was very poor." "You're a pauper," said Miss Minchin, and her temper rose as she thought of the full implications. "It seems that you have no relatives and no home, no one to take care of you." For a moment, the thin, pale little face twitched, but she still said nothing. "What are you staring at?" asked Miss Minchin sharply. "Are you so stupid that you can't even understand the words? I tell you, you are very alone in this world, and no one will do anything for you, unless I keep you out of charity." "I see," Sara replied, in a low voice, with a sound that sounded like she was swallowing something that was coming up from her throat. "I see." "That doll," cried Miss Minchin, pointing to the gaudy birthday present that sat nearby—"that ridiculous doll, and her whole array of ridiculous luxuries— - I actually paid her bill!" Sarah turned her head toward the chair. "The last doll," she said, "the last doll." There was a strange sound in her mournful voice. "The last doll, really!" said Miss Minchin. "But that's mine, not yours. All your things are mine." "Then please take her away from me," said Sarah. "I don't want her." If she had just wept and looked frightened, Ms Minchin might have been more patient with her.She is a woman who likes to dominate and domineering, and when she looks at Sarah's pale, determined face and hears that haughty little voice, she feels strongly that her prestige seems to be scorned. "Stop being cocky," she said. "The time for doing this is past. You are no longer a princess. Your carriage and ponies will be sent away - and your maids will be dismissed. You will be dressed in your shabbiest, most common clothes --your fancy clothes don't suit your station any more. You're like Becky--have to work to earn a living." To her surprise, there was a faint gleam in the child's eyes--with a hint of relief. "Can I work?" she said. "It doesn't matter if I can work. What can I do?" "You may do what you are told to do," was the answer. "You're a clever boy, and it's easy to learn how to work. I'll let you stay here if you can be of any use. You speak French well enough to help the little ones." "Can I?" Sara exclaimed. "Oh, please allow me! I know I can teach them. I like them, and they like me." "Don't talk nonsense about who likes you," said Ms. Minchin. "You have to do more than just teach the little ones. You have to run errands, help in the kitchen, and clean the classroom. If you don't satisfy me, you will be sent away. Remember. Now you let's go." Sarah watched her and stood still for a moment.She was thinking of some strange thoughts deep in her young mind.Then she turned to leave the room. "Stop!" said Miss Minchin. "Don't you want to thank me?" Sarah stood still, all those deep, strange thoughts rushing into her mind. "For what?" she said. "For my mercy to you," replied Ms. Minchin. "Gracefully gave you a home for me." Sarah took two or three steps toward her. ．Her thin chest heaved up and down, and she said in a strange, unchildlike sternness: "You're not merciful. You're not merciful, and this isn't a home." She turned and ran out of the room. Before Ms. Minchin could tell her to stop or take any action, she could only stare angrily at her back. Sarah walked up the stairs slowly, still panting, with her arms around Emily. "I wish she could talk," she said to herself. "If only she could talk--if only she could talk!" She wanted to lie down on the tiger skin in her room, put her cheek against the big cat's head, look at the fire and think, think, think!But she had just reached the landing when Miss Amelia came out of the door, closed it behind her back, and stood in front of it, looking tense and embarrassed.In fact she was secretly ashamed of what she had been ordered to do. "You--you don't go into the room," she said. "Don't go in?" Sara said loudly, taking a step back. "It's not your room anymore," replied Miss Amelia, flushing a little. Somehow, Sarah suddenly understood.She realized that this was where the change Ms. Minchin was talking about began. "Where is my room?" she asked, hoping her voice would not tremble. "You'll have to sleep in the attic, the one next to Becky's." Sarah knew where it was.Becky had told her about the place.She turned and went up two flights of stairs.The last flight of stairs was narrow and covered with old carpet that was ripped into knots.She felt as if she was walking away from the world, To leave far behind the world in which another child had lived, and that other child was no longer herself.The child in front of me, clad in an old short, tight dress, climbing up to the attic, is a completely different person. When she reached the attic door and opened it, her heart throbbed with sadness.Then she closed the door and leaned against it to look around. Yes, this is another world.The room had a sloping ceiling, and although plastered, it was dirty, and in places the plaster had fallen off.There was a rusted fireplace, and an old iron bedstead with a faded coverlet over the hard slab.A few pieces of furniture were brought up because they were used downstairs in dilapidated condition.There was nothing to see but a long strip of dull gray sky through the skylight in the roof, under which stood a battered red-painted ottoman.Sarah walked over to it and sat down.She seldom cried.I didn't cry at this time.She put Emily across her knees, put her face down against her, put her arms around her, and sat there with her black hair leaning against the black curtains, not saying a word, not a word. As she sat like this, immersed in silence, there was a soft knock on the door--such a slight, submissive knock, which she did not hear at first, until the door was carefully pushed open to reveal a The pitiful, tear-smeared face only became alert as it peered out.It was Becky's face, and Becky had been weeping to herself for hours, wiping her eyes with her kitchen apron, and making herself look different. "Oh, miss," she whispered. "May I—will you allow me—just come in?" Sarah looked up at her, tried to smile, but couldn't for some reason.Suddenly—and all this came from seeing the loving sorrow in Becky's tearful eyes—her face regained its childishness, and no longer looked out of proportion to her age.She held out her hand to Becky and swallowed softly. "Oh, Becky," she said. "I told you we were all alike--just two little girls--just a pair of little girls. You see how true it is. There's no difference now. I'm not a princess any more." Becky ran towards her, took her hand, and, clasping it to her bosom, knelt beside her, sobbing with love and pain. "It's the princess, madam, you are," she cried incoherently. "No matter what happens to you - no matter what - you are still a princess - nothing can change you, make you any different."