Sara Crewe | Page 4

beautiful and promising little girl, Captain Crewe. She will be
a favorite pupil; quite a favorite pupil, I see."
For the first year she was a favorite pupil; at least she was indulged a
great deal more than was good for her. And when the Select Seminary
went walking, two by two, she was always decked out in her grandest
clothes, and led by the hand at the head of the genteel procession, by
Miss Minchin herself. And when the parents of any of the pupils came,
she was always dressed and called into the parlor with her doll; and she
used to hear Miss Minchin say that her father was a distinguished
Indian officer, and she would be heiress to a great fortune. That her
father had inherited a great deal of money, Sara had heard before; and
also that some day it would be hers, and that he would not remain long
in the army, but would come to live in London. And every time a letter
came, she hoped it would say he was coming, and they were to live
together again.
But about the middle of the third year a letter came bringing very
different news. Because he was not a business man himself, her papa
had given his affairs into the hands of a friend he trusted. The friend
had deceived and robbed him. All the money was gone, no one knew
exactly where, and the shock was so great to the poor, rash young
officer, that, being attacked by jungle fever shortly afterward, he had no
strength to rally, and so died, leaving Sara, with no one to take care of
her.
Miss Minchin's cold and fishy eyes had never looked so cold and fishy
as they did when Sara went into the parlor, on being sent for, a few
days after the letter was received.
No one had said anything to the child about mourning, so, in her
old-fashioned way, she had decided to find a black dress for herself,
and had picked out a black velvet she had outgrown, and came into the
room in it, looking the queerest little figure in the world, and a sad little
figure too. The dress was too short and too tight, her face was white,
her eyes had dark rings around them, and her doll, wrapped in a piece

of old black crape, was held under her arm. She was not a pretty child.
She was thin, and had a weird, interesting little face, short black hair,
and very large, green-gray eyes fringed all around with heavy black
lashes.
I am the ugliest child in the school," she had said once, after staring at
herself in the glass for some minutes.
But there had been a clever, good-natured little French teacher who had
said to the music-master:
"Zat leetle Crewe. Vat a child! A so ogly beauty! Ze so large eyes! ze
so little spirituelle face. Waid till she grow up. You shall see!"
This morning, however, in the tight, small black frock, she looked
thinner and odder than ever, and her eyes were fixed on Miss Minchin
with a queer steadiness as she slowly advanced into the parlor,
clutching her doll.
"Put your doll down!" said Miss Minchin.
"No," said the child, I won't put her down; I want her with me. She is
all I have. She has stayed with me all the time since my papa died."
She had never been an obedient child. She had had her own way ever
since she was born, and there was about her an air of silent
determination under which Miss Minchin had always felt secretly
uncomfortable. And that lady felt even now that perhaps it would be as
well not to insist on her point. So she looked at her as severely as
possible.
"You will have no time for dolls in future," she said; "you will have to
work and improve yourself, and make yourself useful."
Sara kept the big odd eyes fixed on her teacher and said nothing.
"Everything will be very different now," Miss Minchin went on. "I sent
for you to talk to you and make you understand. Your father is dead.

You have no friends. You have no money. You have no home and no
one to take care of you."
The little pale olive face twitched nervously, but the green-gray eyes
did not move from Miss Minchin's, and still Sara said nothing.
"What are you staring at?" demanded Miss Minchin sharply. "Are you
so stupid you don't understand what I mean? I tell you that you are
quite alone in the world, and have no one to do anything for you, unless
I choose to keep you here."
The truth was, Miss Minchin was in her worst mood. To be