16. The Visitor
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16. The VisitorImagine, if you , what the rest of the evening was like. How they crouched by the fire which blazed and leaped and made so much of itself itle grate. How they removed the covers of the dishes, and found rich, hot, savory soup, which was a meal in itself, and sandwiches and toast and muffins enough for both of them. The mug from the washstand was used as Beckys tea cup, and the tea was so delicious that it was not necessary to pretend that it was anything but tea. They were warm and full-fed and happy, and it was just like Sara that, having fourange good fortune real, she should give herself up to the enjoyment of it to the utmost. She had lived such a life of imaginings that she was quite equal to accepting any wonderful thing that happened, and almost to cease, in a short time, to find it bewildering.
"I dont know anyone in the world who could have do," she said; "but there has been someone. And here we are sitting by their fire--and--and--its true! And whoever it is--wherever they are--I have a friend, Becky--someone is my friend."
It ot be dehat as they sat before the blazing fire, and ate the nourishing, fortable food, they felt a kind of rapturous awe, and looked into each others eyes with something like doubt.
"Do you think," Becky faltered once, in a whisper, "do you think it could melt away, miss? Hadter be quick?" And she hastily crammed her sandwito her mouth. If it was only a dream, kit manners would be overlooked.
"No, it wo away," said Sara. "I am eating this muffin, and I taste it. You never really eat things in dreams. You only think yoing to eat them. Besides, I keep giving myself pinches; and I touched a hot piece of coal just now, on purpose."
The sleepy fort which at length almost overpowered them was a heavenly thing. It was the drowsiness of happy, well-fed childhood, and they sat in the fire glow and luxuriated in it until Sara found herself turning to look at her transformed bed.
There were even blas enough to share with Becky. The narrow cou the attic was more fortable that night than its oct had ever dreamed that it could be.
As she went out of the room, Becky turned upohreshold and looked about her with dev eyes.
"If it aint here in the mornin, miss," she said, "its beeonight, anyways, an I shant never fet it." She looked at each particular thing, as if to it it to memory. "The fire was there", pointing with her finger, "aable was before it; an the lamp was there, an the light looked rosy red; an there was a satin cover on your bed, an a warm rug on the floor, ahin looked beautiful; an"--she paused a sed, and laid her hand oomach tenderly--"there was soup an sandwiches an muffins--there was." And, with this vi a reality at least, she went away.
Through the mysterious agency which works in schools and among servants, it was quite well known in the m that Sara Crewe was in horrible disgrace, that Ermengarde was under punishment, and that Becky would have been packed out of the house before breakfast, but that a scullery maid could not be dispensed with at ohe servants khat she was allowed to stay because Miss Min could not easily find another creature helpless and humble enough to work like a bounden slave for so few shillings a week. The elder girls in the schoolroom khat if Miss Min did not send Sara away it was for practical reasons of her own.
"Shes growing so fast and learning such a lot, somehow," said Jessie to Lavinia, "that she will be given classes soon, and Miss Min knows she will have to work for nothing. It was rather nasty of you, Lavvy, to tell about her having fun in the garret. How did you find it out?"
"I got it out of Lottie. Shes such a baby she didnt know she was tellihere was nothing nasty at all in speaking to Miss Min. I felt it my duty"--priggishly. "She was beiful. And its ridiculous that she should look so grand, and be made so much of, in her rags and tatters!"
"What were they doing when Miss Min caught them?"
"Pretending some silly thing. Ermengarde had taken up her hamper to share with Sara and Becky. She never invites us to share things. Not that I care, but its rather vulgar of her to share with servant girls in attics. I wonder Miss Min didnt turn Sara out--even if she does want her for a teacher."
"If she was turned out where would she go?" inquired Jessie, a trifle anxiously.
"How do I know?" snapped Lavinia. "Shell look rather queer when she es into the schoolroom this m, I should think-- after whats happened. She had no dinner yesterday, and shes not to have any today."
Jessie was not as ill-natured as she was silly. She picked up her book with a little jerk.
"Well, I think its horrid," she said. "Theyve nht to starve her to death."
When Sara went into the kit that m the cook looked aska her, and so did the housemaids; but she passed them hurriedly. She had, in fact, overslept herself a little, and as Becky had dohe same, her had had time to see the other, and each had e downstairs in haste.
Sara went into the scullery. Becky was violently scrubbing a kettle, and was actually gurgling a little song ihroat. She looked up with a wildly elated face.
"It was there when I wakened, miss--the bla," she whispered excitedly. "It was as real as it was last night."
"So was mine," said Sara. "It is all there now--all of it. While I was dressing I ate some of the cold things we left."
"Oh, laws! Oh, laws!" Becky uttered the exclamation in a sort of rapturous groan, and ducked her head over her kettle just in time, as the cook came in from the kit.
Miss Min had expected to see in Sara, when she appeared in the schoolroom, very much what Lavinia had expected to see. Sara had always been an annoying puzzle to her, because severity never made her cry or lohtened. When she was scolded she stood still and listened politely with a grave face; when she unished she performed her extra tasks or went without her meals, making no plaint or outward sign of rebellion. The very fact that she never made an impudent answer seemed to Miss Min a kind of impuden itself. But after yesterdays deprivation of meals, the violent se of last night, the prospect of huoday, she must surely have broken down. It would be strange indeed if she did not e downstairs with pale cheeks and red eyes and an unhappy, humbled face.
Miss Min saw her for the first time wheered the schoolroom to hear the little French class recite its lessons and superintend its exercises. And she came in with a springing step, color in her cheeks, and a smile h about the ers of her mouth. It was the most astonishing thing Miss Min had ever known. It gave her quite a shock. What was the child made of? What could such a thing mean? She called her at oo her desk.
"You do not look as if you realize that you are in disgrace," she said. "Are you absolutely hardened?"
The truth is that when one is still a child--or even if one is grown up--and has been well fed, and has slept long and softly and warm; when one has goo sleep in the midst of a fairy story, and has wakeo find it real, one ot be unhappy or even look as if one were; and one could not, if oried, keep a glow of joy out of ones eyes. Miss Min was almost struck dumb by the look of Saras eyes when she made her perfectly respectful answer.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Min," she said; "I know that I am in disgrace."
"Be good enough not tet it and look as if you had e into a fortu is an impertinence. And remember you are to have no food today."
"Yes, Miss Min," Sara answered; but as she turned away her heart leaped with the memory of what yesterday had been. "If the Magic had not saved me just in time," she thought, "how horrible it would have been!"
"She t be very hungry," whispered Lavinia. "Just look at her. Perhaps she is pretending she has had a good breakfast"-- with a spiteful laugh.
"Shes different from other people," said Jessie, watg Sara with her class. "Sometimes Im a bit frightened of her."
"Ridiculous thing!" ejaculated Lavinia.
All through the day the light was in Saras face, and the color in her cheek. The servants cast puzzled gla her, and whispered to each other, and Miss Amelias small blue eyes wore an expression of bewilderment. What su audacious look of well-being, under august displeasure could mean she could not uand. It was, however, just like Saras singular obstinate way. She robably determio brave the matter out.
Ohing Sara had resolved upon, as she thought things over. The wonders which had happened must be kept a secret, if such a thing were possible. If Miss Min should choose to mount to the attic again, of course all would be discovered. But it did not seem likely that she would do so for some time at least, unless she was led by suspi. Ermengarde and Lottie would be watched with such striess that they would not dare to steal out of their beds again. Ermengarde could be told the story and trusted to keep it secret. If Lottie made any discoveries, she could be bound to secrecy also. Perhaps the Magic itself would help to hide its own marvels.
"But whatever happens," Sara kept saying to herself all day-- "whatever happens, somewhere in the world there is a heavenly kind person who is my friend--my friend. If I never know who it is--if I never even thank him--I shall never feel quite so lonely. Oh, the Magic was good to me!"
If it ossible for weather to be worse than it had been the day before, it was worse this day--wetter, muddier, colder. There were more errands to be dohe cook was more irritable, and, knowing that Sara was in disgrace, she was more savage. But what does anything matter when ones Magic has just proved itself ones friend. Saras supper of the night before had giverength, she khat she should sleep well and warmly, and, even though she had naturally begun to be hungry again before evening, she felt that she could bear it until breakfast- time on the following day, when her meals would surely be given tain. It was quite late when she was at last allowed to go upstairs. She had been told to go into the schoolroom and study until ten oclock, and she had bee ied in her work, and remained over her books later.
When she reached the top flight of stairs and stood before the attic door, it must be fessed that her heart beat rather fast.
"Of course it might all have been taken away," she whispered, trying to be brave. "It might only have beeo me for just that one awful night. But it was lent to me--I had it. It was real."
She pushed the door open a in. Onside, she gasped slightly, shut the door, and stood with her back against it looking from side to side.
The Magic had been there again. It actually had, and it had done even more than before. The fire was blazing, in lovely leaping flames, more merrily than ever. A number of hings had been brought into the attic which so altered the look of it that if she had not been past doubting she would have rubbed her eyes. Upon the low table another supper stood--this time with cups and plates for Becky as well as herself; a piece ht, heavy, strange embroidery covered the battered mantel, and on it some ors had been placed. All the bare, ugly things which could be covered with draperies had been cealed and made to look quite pretty. Some odd materials of rich colors had been fastened against the wall with fine, sharp tacks--so sharp that they could be pressed into the wood and plaster without hammering. Some brilliant fans were pinned up, and there were several large cushions, big and substantial enough to use as seats. A wooden box was covered with a rug, and some cushions lay on it, so that it wore quite the air of a sofa.
Sara slowly moved away from the door and simply sat down and looked and looked again.
"It is exactly like something fairy e true," she said. "There isnt the least difference. I feel as if I might wish for anything--diamonds s of gold--and they would appear! That wouldnt be any strahan this. Is this my garret? Am I the same cold, ragged, damp Sara? And to think I used to pretend and pretend and wish there were fairies! The ohing I always wanted was to see a fairy story e true. I am living in a fairy story. I feel as if I might be a fairy myself, and able to turn things into anything else."
She rose and knocked upon the wall for the prisoner in the cell, and the prisoner came.
Wheered she almost dropped in a heap upon the floor. For a few seds she quite lost her breath.
"Oh, laws!" she gasped. "Oh, laws, miss!"
"You see," said Sara.
On this night Becky sat on a cushion upon the hearth rug and had a cup and saucer of her own.
When Sara went to bed she found that she had a hick mattress and big downy pillows. Her old mattress and pillow had been removed to Beckys bedstead, and, sequently, with these additions Becky had been supplied with unheard-of fort.
"Where does it all e from?" Becky broke forth once. "Laws, who does it, miss?"
"Do us even ask," said Sara. "If it were not that I want to say, `Oh, thank you, I would rather not know. It makes it more beautiful."
From that time life became more wonderful day by day. The fairy story tinued. Almost every day something new was done. Some new fort or or appeared each time Sara opehe door at night, until in a short time the attic was a beautiful little room full of all sorts of odd and luxurious things. The ugly walls were gradually entirely covered with pictures and draperies, ingenious pieces of folding furniture appeared, a bookshelf was hung up and filled with books, new forts and veniences appeared one by one, until there seemed nothio be desired. When Sara went downstairs in the m, the remains of the supper were oable; and wheuro the atti the evening, the magi had removed them a another tle meal. Miss Min was as harsh and insulting as ever, Miss Amelia as peevish, and the servants were as vulgar and rude. Sara was sent on errands in all weathers, and scolded and driven hither and thither; she was scarcely allowed to speak tarde and Lottie; Lavinia s the increasing shabbiness of her clothes; and the irls stared curiously at her when she appeared in the schoolroom. But what did it all matter while she was living in this wonderful mysterious story? It was more romantid delightful than anything she had ever ied to fort her starved young soul and save herself from despair. Sometimes, when she was scolded, she could scarcely keep from smiling.
"If you only knew!" she was saying to herself. "If you only knew!"
The fort and happiness she enjoyed were makironger, and she had them always to look forward to. If she came home from her errands wet and tired and hungry, she knew she would soon be warm and well fed after she had climbed the stairs. During the hardest day she could occupy herself blissfully by thinking of what she should see when she opehe attic door, and w what new delight had been prepared for her. In a very short time she began to look less thin. Color came into her cheeks, and her eyes did not seem so much too big for her face.
"Sara Crewe looks wonderfully well," Miss Min remarked disapprovingly to her sister.
"Yes," answered poor, silly Miss Amelia. "She is absolutely fattening. She was beginning to look like a little starved crow."
"Starved!" exclaimed Miss Min, angrily. "There was no reason why she should look starved. She always had plenty to eat!"
"Of--of course," agreed Miss Amelia, humbly, alarmed to find that she had, as usual, said the wrong thing.
"There is something very disagreeable in seeing that sort of thing in a child of her age," said Miss Min, with haughty vagueness.
"What--sort of thing?" Miss Amelia ventured.
"It might almost be called defiance," answered Miss Min, feeling annoyed because she khe thing she resented was nothing like defiance, and she did not know what other unpleasao use. "The spirit and will of any other child would have beeirely humbled and broken by--by the ges she has had to submit to. But, upon my word, she seems as little subdued as if--as if she were a princess."
"Do you remember," put in the unwise Miss Amelia, "what she said to you that day in the schoolroom about what you would do if you found out that she was--&quo.９9lib?;
"No, I dont," said Miss Min. "Dont talk nonsense." But she remembered very clearly indeed.
Very naturally, even Becky was beginning to look plumper and less frightened. She could not help it. She had her share in the secret fairy story, too. She had two mattresses, two pillows, plenty of bed-c, and every night a hot supper and a seat on the cushions by the fire. The Bastille had melted away, the prisoners no longer existed. Two forted children sat in the midst of delights. Sometimes Sara read aloud from her books, sometimes she learned her own lessons, sometimes she sat and looked into the fire and tried to imagine who her friend could be, and wished she could say to him some of the things in her heart.
Then it came about that another wonderful thing happened. A man came to the door a several parcels. All were addressed in large letters, "To the Little Girl in the right-hand attic."
Sara herself was sent to open the door and take them in. She laid the twest parcels on the hall table, and was looking at the address, when Miss Min came dowairs and saw her.
"Take the th<samp></samp>ings to the young lady to whom they belong," she said severely. "Dont stand there staring at them.
"They belong to me," answered Sara, quietly.
"To you?" exclaimed Miss Min. "What do you mean?"
"I dont know where they e from," said Sara, "but they are addressed to me. I sleep in the right-hand attic. Becky has the other one."
Miss Min came to her side and looked at the parcels with aed expression.
"What is in them?" she demanded.
"I dont know," replied Sara.
"Open them," she ordered.
Sara did as she was told. When the packages were unfolded Miss Mins tenance wore suddenly a singular expression. What she saretty and fortable clothing--clothing of different kinds: shoes, stogs, and gloves, and a warm aiful coat. There were even a and an umbrella. They were all good and expehings, and on the pocket of the coat inned a paper, on which were written these words: "To be worn every day. Will be replaced by others when necessary."
Miss Min was quite agitated. This was an i which suggested strahings to her sordid mind. Could it be that she had made a mistake, after all, and that the ed child had some powerful though etric friend in the background-- perhaps some previously unknowion, who had suddenly traced her whereabouts, and chose to provide for her in this mysterious and fantastic way? Relations were sometimes very odd-- particularly rich old bachelo<q></q>r uncles, who did not care for having childrehem. A man of that sort might prefer to overlook his youions welfare at a distance. Such a person, however, would be sure to be crotchety and hot-tempered enough to be easily offended. It would not be very pleasant if there were such a one, and he should learn all the truth about the thin, shabby clothes, the st food, and the hard work. She felt very queer indeed, and very uain, and she gave a side gla Sara.
"Well," she said, in a voice such as she had never used sihe little girl lost her father, "someone is very kind to you. As the things have bee, and you are to have new ones when they are worn out, you may as well go and put them on and look respectable. After you are dressed you may e downstairs and learn your lessons in the schoolroom. You need not go out on any more errands today."
About half an hour afterward, when the schoolroom door opened and Sara walked in, the entire seminary was struck dumb.
"My word!" ejaculated Jessie, jogging Lavinias elbow. "Look at the Princess Sara!"
Everybody was looking, and when Lavinia looked she turned quite red.
It was the Princess Sara indeed. At least, sihe days when she had been a princess, Sara had never looked as she did now. She did not seem the Sara they had seen e down the back stairs a few ho. She was dressed in the kind of frock Lavinia had beeo envyihe possession of. It was deep and warm in color, aifully made. Her slender feet looked as they had done when Jessie had admired them, and the hair, whose heavy locks had made her look rather like a Shetland pony when it fell loose about her small, odd face, was tied back with a ribbon.
"Perhaps someone has left her a fortune," Jessie whispered. "I always thought something would happen to her. Shes so queer."
"Perhaps the diamond mines have suddenly appeared again," said Lavinia, scathingly. "Dont please her by staring at her in that way, you silly thing."
"Sara," broke in Miss Mins deep voice, "e and sit here."
And while the whole schoolroom stared and pushed with elbows, and scarcely made any effort to ceal its excited curiosity, Sara went to her old seat of honor, a her head over her books.
That night, when she went to her room, after she and Becky had eaten their supper she sat and looked at the fire seriously for a long time.
"Are you making something up in?９９ｌｉb? your head, miss?" Becky inquired with respectful softness. When Sara sat in silend looked into the coals with dreaming eyes it generally meant that she was making a ory. But this time she was not, and she shook her head.
"No," she answered. "I am w what I ought to do."
Becky stared--still respectfully. She was filled with something approag reverence for everything Sara did and said.
"I t help thinking about my friend," Sara explained. "If he wants to keep himself a secret, it would be rude to try and find out who he is. But I do so want him to know how thankful I am to him--and hoy he has made me. Anyone who is kind wants to know when people have been made happy. They care for that more than for being thanked. I wish--I do wish--"
She stopped short because her eyes at that instant fell upon something standing on a table in a er. It was something she had found in the room when she came up to it only two days before. It was a little writing-case fitted with paper and envelopes and pens and ink.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "why did I not think of that before?"
She rose ao the er and brought the case back to the fire.
"I write to him," she said joyfully, "and leave it oable. Then perhaps the person who takes the things away will take it, too. I wont ask him anything. He wont mind my thanking him, I feel sure."
So she wrote a his is what she said:
I hope you will not think it is impolite that I should write this o you when you wish to keep yourself a secret. Please believe I do not mean to be impolite or try to find out anything at all; only I want to thank you for being so kind to me--so heavenly kind--and making everything like a fairy story. I am so grateful to you, and I am so happy--and so is Becky. Becky feels just as thankful as I do--it is all just as beautiful and wonderful to her as it is to me. We used to be so lonely and cold and hungry, and now--oh, just think what you have done for us! Please let me say just these words. It seems as if I ought to say them. Thank you--thank you--thank you!
The Little Girl iic.
The m she left this otle table, and in the evening it had been taken away with the other things; so she khe Magi had received it, and she was happier for the thought. She was reading one of her new books to Becky just before they went to their respective beds, whetention was attracted by a sound at the skylight. When she looked up from her page she saw that Becky had heard the sound also, as she had turned her head to look and was listening rather nervously.
"Somethings there, miss," she whispered.
"Yes," said Sara, slowly. "It sounds--rather like a cat--trying to get in."
She left her chair ao the skylight. It was a queer little sound she heard--like a soft scratg. She suddenly remembered something and laughed. She remembered a quaint little intruder who had made his way into the attice before. She had seen him that very afternoon, sitting dissolately on a table before a window in the Indialemans house.
"Suppose," she whispered in pleased excitement--"just suppose it was the monkey who got away again. Oh, I wish it was!"
She climbed on a chair, very cautiously raised the skylight, and peeped out. It had been snowing all day, and on the snow, quite near her, crouched a tiny, shivering figure, whose small black face wriself piteously at sight of her.
"It is the monkey," she cried out. "He has crept out of the Lascars attid he saw the light."
Becky ran to her side.
"Are you going to let him in, miss?" she said.
"Yes," Sara answered joyfully. "Its too cold for moo be out. Theyre delicate. Ill coax him in."
She put a hand out delicately, speaking in a coaxing voice--as she spoke to the sparrows and to Melchisedec--as if she were some friendly little animal herself.
"e along, monkey darling," she said. "I wont hurt you."
He knew she would not hurt him. He k before she laid her soft, caressing little paw on him and drew him towards her. He had felt human love in the slim brown hands of Ram Dass, and he felt it in hers. He let her lift him through the skylight, and when he found himself in her arms he cuddled up to her breast and looked up into her face.
"Nice monkey! Nice monkey!" she ed, kissing his funny head. "Oh, I do love little animal things."
He was evidently glad to get to the fire, and whe down and held him on her knee he looked from her to Becky with mingled i and appreciation.
"He is plain-looking, miss, aint he?" said Becky.
"He looks like a very ugly baby," laughed Sara. "I beg your pardon, monkey; but Im glad you are not a baby. Your mother couldnt be proud of you, and no one would dare to say you looked like any of your relations. Oh, I do like you!"
She leaned ba her chair and reflected.
"Perhaps hes sorry hes so ugly," she said, "and its always on his mind. I wonder if he has a mind. Monkey, my love, have you a mind?"
But the monkey only put up a tiny paw and scratched his head.
"What shall you do with him?" Becky asked.
"I shall let him sleep with me tonight, and then take him back to the Indialeman tomorrow. I am sorry to take you back, monkey; but you must go. You ought to be fo of your own family; and Im not a real relation."
And when she went to bed she made him a at her feet, and he curled up and slept there as if he were a baby and much pleased with his quarters.
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