A LITTLE PRINCESS by Frances Hodgson Burnett Chapter 16 Continued Well,
Said Miss Minchin,
In a voice such as she had never used since Sarah lost her father,
Someone is very kind to you.
As the things have been sent,
And you ought to have new ones when they're worn out,
You may as well go and put them on and look respectable.
After you are dressed,
You may come downstairs and learn your lessons in the schoolroom.
You need not go out on any more errands.
About half an hour afterward,
When the schoolroom door opened and Sarah walked in,
The entire seminary was struck dumb with amazement.
My word,
Ejaculated Jessie,
Jogging Lavinia's elbow,
Look at Princess Sarah.
Everyone was looking,
And when Lavinia looked,
She turned bright red.
It was the Princess Sarah indeed.
At least,
Since the days when she had been a princess,
Sarah had never looked as she did now.
She did not seem the Sarah they had seen come down the back stairs a few hours ago.
She was dressed in the kind of frock Lavinia had been used to envying her the possession of.
It was deep and warm in colour,
And beautifully 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 face,
Was tied back with a ribbon.
Perhaps someone's left her a fortune,
Jessie whispered.
I always thought something would happen to her,
She's so queer.
Perhaps the diamond mines have suddenly appeared again,
Said Lavinia scathingly.
Don't please her by staring at her in that way,
You silly thing.
Sarah,
Broken Miss Minchin's voice,
Come and sit here.
And while the whole schoolroom stared and pushed with elbows,
And scarcely made any effort to conceal its excited curiosity,
Sarah went to her old seat of honour,
And bent 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 your head,
Miss?
Becky inquired with respectful softness.
When Sarah sat in silence and looked into the coals with dreaming eyes,
It generally meant she was making up a new story.
But this time she was not,
And she shook her head.
No,
She answered,
I'm wondering what I ought to do.
Becky stared,
Still respectfully.
She was filled with something approaching reverence for everything Sarah said and did.
I can't help thinking about my friend,
Sarah 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 happy he's made me.
Anyone who's 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 the corner.
It was something she'd found in the room when she came up to it 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 and went to the corner and brought the case back to the fire.
I can write to him,
She said joyfully,
And leave it on the table.
Then perhaps the person who takes the things away will take it too.
I won't ask him anything,
He won't mind my thanking him,
I'm sure.
So she wrote a note,
And this is what it said.
I hope you will not think it's impolite that I should write this note to 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.
Signed,
The Little Girl in the Attic The next morning Sarah left this on the little table,
And in the evening it had been taken away with the other things.
So she knew the magician 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,
When her attention was attracted by a sound of the skylight.
When she looked up from her page she saw that Becky had heard the sound as well,
And she had turned her head to look and was listening rather nervously.
Something's there miss,
She whispered.
Yes,
Said Sarah slowly,
It sounds rather like a cat trying to get in.
She left her chair and went to the skylight.
It was a queer little sound she heard,
Like a soft scratching.
She suddenly remembered something and laughed.
Once upon a time a quaint little intruder had made his way into the attic.
She'd seen him that very afternoon,
Sitting disconsolately on a table before a window in the Indian gentleman's house.
Suppose,
She whispered in pleased excitement,
But suppose it was the monkey who'd got away again.
Oh,
She was.
She climbed on a chair,
Raised the skylight cautiously,
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 wrinkled itself piteously at sight of her.
It is the monkey,
She cried out,
He's crept out of the Lasker's attic and he saw the light.
Becky ran to her side.
Are you going to let him in,
Miss?
She said.
Yes,
Sarah answered joyfully,
It's too cold for monkeys to be outside,
They're delicate.
She said,
I'll coax him in.
She put her hand out,
Speaking in the same voice she used to speak to the sparrows.
Come along monkey darling,
She said,
I won't hurt you.
The monkey knew she would not hurt him.
He knew it 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 Sarah's.
Then he let her lift him through the skylight,
And when he found himself in her arms,
He cuddled up to her and took friendly hold of a piece of her hair,
Looking up into her face.
Nice monkey,
She groomed,
Kissing his funny head.
I do love little animal things.
The monkey was evidently glad to get to the fire,
And when Sarah sat down and held him on her knee,
She looked from her to Becky with mingled interest and appreciation.
He is plain looking,
Ain't he miss,
Said Becky.
He looks like a very ugly baby,
Laughed Sarah.
I beg your pardon monkey,
But I'm glad you're not a baby.
Your mother couldn't be proud of you,
And no one would dare to say you look like any of your relations,
But I like you.
She leaned back in her chair and reflected.
Perhaps he's sorry he's so ugly,
She said,
And it's 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 Indian gentleman tomorrow.
I'm sorry to take you back,
Monkey,
But you must go.
You ought to be fondest of your own family,
And I'm not a real relation.
And so it was.
When Sarah went to bed,
She made the monkey a nest at her feet,
And slowly he curled up and slept there,
As if he were a real baby,
And very much pleased with his new quarters.
