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called her Widow Capet. She was a great deal more like a queen then than when she was so gay and
everything was so grand. I like her best then. Those howling mobs of people did not frighten her. She was
stronger than they were, even when they cut her head off."
This was not a new thought, but quite an old one, by this time. It had consoled her through many a bitter day,
and she had gone about the house with an expression in her face which Miss Minchin could not understand
and which was a source of great annoyance to her, as it seemed as if the child were mentally living a life
which held her above he rest of the world. It was as if she scarcely heard the rude and acid things said to her;
or, if she heard them, did not care for them at all. Sometimes, when she was in the midst of some harsh,
domineering speech, Miss Minchin would find the still, unchildish eyes fixed upon her with something like a
proud smile in them. At such times she did not know that Sara was saying to herself:
"You don't know that you are saying these things to a princess, and that if I chose I could wave my hand and
order you to execution. I only spare you because I am a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, unkind, vulgar
old thing, and don't know any better."
This used to interest and amuse her more than anything else; and queer and fanciful as it was, she found
comfort in it and it was a good thing for her. While the thought held possession of her, she could not be made
rude and malicious by the rudeness and malice of those about her.
"A princess must be polite," she said to herself.
The Legal Small Print 67
And so when the servants, taking their tone from their mistress, were insolent and ordered her about, she
would hold her head erect and reply to them with a quaint civility which often made them stare at her.
"She's got more airs and graces than if she come from Buckingham Palace, that young one," said the cook,
chuckling a little sometimes. "I lose my temper with her often enough, but I will say she never forgets her
manners. `If you please, cook'; `Will you be so kind, cook?' `I beg your pardon, cook'; `May I trouble you,
cook?' She drops 'em about the kitchen as if they was nothing."
The morning after the interview with Ram Dass and his monkey, Sara was in the schoolroom with her small
pupils. Having finished giving them their lessons, she was putting the French exercise-books together and
thinking, as she did it, of the various things royal personages in disguise were called upon to do: Alfred the
Great, for instance, burning the cakes and getting his ears boxed by the wife of the neat-herd. How frightened
she must have been when she found out what she had done. If Miss Minchin should find out that she--Sara,
whose toes were almost sticking out of her boots--was a princess--a real one! The look in her eyes was exactly
the look which Miss Minchin most disliked. She would not have it; she was quite near her and was so enraged
that she actually flew at her and boxed her ears--exactly as the neat-herd's wife had boxed King Alfred's. It
made Sara start. She wakened from her dream at the shock, and, catching her breath, stood still a second.
Then, not knowing she was going to do it, she broke into a little laugh.
"What are you laughing at, you bold, impudent child?" Miss Minchin exclaimed.
It took Sara a few seconds to control herself sufficiently to remember that she was a princess. Her cheeks were
red and smarting from the blows she had received.
"I was thinking," she answered.
"Beg my pardon immediately," said Miss Minchin.
Sara hesitated a second before she replied.
"I will beg your pardon for laughing, if it was rude," she said then; "but I won't beg your pardon for thinking."
"What were you thinking?" demanded Miss Minchin.
"How dare you think? What were you thinking?"
Jessie tittered, and she and Lavinia nudged each other in unison. All the girls looked up from their books to
listen. Really, it always interested them a little when Miss Minchin attacked Sara. Sara always said something
queer, and never seemed the least bit frightened. She was not in the least frightened now, though her boxed
ears were scarlet and her eyes were as bright as stars.
"I was thinking," she answered grandly and politely, "that you did not know what you were doing."
"That I did not know what I was doing?" Miss Minchin fairly gasped.
"Yes," said Sara, "and I was thinking what would happen if I were a princess and you boxed my ears--what I
should do to you. And I was thinking that if I were one, you would never dare to do it, whatever I said or did.
And I was thinking how surprised and frightened you would be if you suddenly found out--"
She had the imagined future so clearly before her eyes that she spoke in a manner which had an effect even
upon Miss Minchin. It almost seemed for the moment to her narrow, unimaginative mind that there must be
some real power hidden behind this candid daring.
The Legal Small Print 68
"What?" she exclaimed. "Found out what?"
"That I really was a princess," said Sara, "and could do anything--anything I liked."
Every pair of eyes in the room widened to its full limit. Lavinia leaned forward on her seat to look.
"Go to your room," cried Miss Minchin, breathlessly, "this instant! Leave the schoolroom! Attend to your
lessons, young ladies!"
Sara made a little bow.
"Excuse me for laughing if it was impolite," she said, and walked out of the room, leaving Miss Minchin
struggling with her rage, and the girls whispering over their books.
"Did you see her? Did you see how queer she looked?" Jessie broke out. "I shouldn't be at all surprised if she
did turn out to be something. Suppose she should!"
12
The Other Side of the Wall
When one lives in a row of houses, it is interesting to think of the things which are being done and said on the
other side of the wall of the very rooms one is living in. Sara was fond of amusing herself by trying to imagine
the things hidden by the wall which divided the Select Seminary from the Indian gentleman's house. She knew
that the schoolroom was next to the Indian gentleman's study, and she hoped that the wall was thick so that the
noise made sometimes after lesson hours would not disturb him.
"I am growing quite fond of him," she said to Ermengarde; "I should not like him to be disturbed. I have
adopted him for a friend. You can do that with people you never speak to at all. You can just watch them, and
think about them and be sorry for them, until they seem almost like relations. I'm quite anxious sometimes
when I see the doctor call twice a day."
"I have very few relations," said Ermengarde, reflectively, "and I'm very glad of it. I don't like those I have.
My two aunts are always saying, `Dear me, Ermengarde! You are very fat. You shouldn't eat sweets,' and my
uncle is always asking me things like, `When did Edward the Third ascend the throne?' and, `Who died of a
surfeit of lampreys?'"
Sara laughed.
"People you never speak to can't ask you questions like that," she said; "and I'm sure the Indian gentleman
wouldn't even if he was quite intimate with you. I am fond of him."
She had become fond of the Large Family because they looked happy; but she had become fond of the Indian
gentleman because he looked unhappy. He had evidently not fully recovered from some very severe illness. In
the kitchen--where, of course, the servants, through some mysterious means, knew everything--there was
much discussion of his case. He was not an Indian gentleman really, but an Englishman who had lived in [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]