e Emily, who sat watching her from her chair, and
cried out wildly, "Emily! Do you hear? Do you hear--papa is dead? He
is dead in India--thousands of miles away."

When she came into Miss Minchin's sitting room in answer to her
summons, her face was white and her eyes had dark rings around them.
Her mouth was set as if she did not wish it to reveal what she had
suffered and was suffering. She did not look in the least like the
rose-colored butterfly child who had flown about from one of her
treasures to the other in the decorated schoolroom. She looked instead
a strange, desolate, almost grotesque little figure.

She had put on, without Mariette's help, the cast-aside black-velvet
frock. It was too short and tight, and her slender legs looked long
and thin, showing themselves from beneath the brief skirt. As she had
not found a piece of black ribbon, her short, thick, black hair tumbled
loosely about her face and contrasted strongly with its pallor. She
held Emily tightly in one arm, and Emily was swathed in a piece of
black material.

"Put down your doll," said Miss Minchin. "What do you mean by bringing
her here?"

"No," Sara answered. "I will not put her down. She is all I have. My
papa gave her to me."

She had always made Miss Minchin feel secretly uncomfortable, and she
did so now. She did not speak with rudeness so much as with a cold
steadiness with which Miss Minchin felt it difficult to cope--perhaps
because she knew she was doing a heartless and inhuman thing.

"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 her big, strange eyes fixed on her, and said not a word.

"Everything will be very different now," Miss Minchin went on. "I
suppose Miss Amelia has explained matters to you."

"Yes," answered Sara. "My papa is dead. He left me no money. I am
quite poor."

"You are a beggar," said Miss Minchin, her temper rising at the
recollection of what all this meant. "It appears that you have no
relations and no home, and no one to take care of you."

For a moment the thin, pale little face twitched, but Sara again said
nothing.

"What are you staring at?" demanded Miss Minchin, sharply. "Are you so
stupid that you cannot understand? 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 out of charity."

"I understand," answered