"Here are the things," she said.

The cook looked them over, grumbling. She was in a very savage humor
indeed.

"May I have something to eat?" Sara asked rather faintly.

"Tea's over and done with," was the answer. "Did you expect me to keep
it hot for you?"

Sara stood silent for a second.

"I had no dinner," she said next, and her voice was quite low. She
made it low because she was afraid it would tremble.

"There's some bread in the pantry," said the cook. "That's all you'll
get at this time of day."

Sara went and found the bread. It was old and hard and dry. The cook
was in too vicious a humor to give her anything to eat with it. It was
always safe and easy to vent her spite on Sara. Really, it was hard
for the child to climb the three long flights of stairs leading to her
attic. She often found them long and steep when she was tired; but
tonight it seemed as if she would never reach the top. Several times
she was obliged to stop to rest. When she reached the top landing she
was glad to see the glimmer of a light coming from under her door.
That meant that Ermengarde had managed to creep up to pay her a visit.
There was some comfort in that. It was better than to go into the room
alone and find it empty and desolate. The mere presence of plump,
comfortable Ermengarde, wrapped in her red shawl, would warm it a
little.

Yes; there Ermengarde was when she opened the door. She was sitting in
the middle of the bed, with her feet tucked safely under her. She had
never become intimate with Melchisedec and his family, though they
rather fascinated her. When she found herself alone in the attic she
always preferred to sit on the bed until Sara arrived. She had, in
fact, on this occasion had time to become rather nervous, because
Melchisedec had appeared and sniffed about a good deal, and once had
made her utter a repressed squeal by sitting up on his hind legs and,
while he looked at her, sniffing pointedly in her direction.

"Oh, Sara," she cried out, "I am glad you have come. Melchy WOULD
sniff about so. I tried to coax him to go back, but he wouldn't for
such a long time. I like him, you know; but it does frighten me when
he sniffs right at me. Do you think he ever WOULD jump?"

"No," answered Sara.

Ermengarde crawled forward on the bed to look at her.

"You DO look tired, Sara," she said; "you are quite pale."

"I AM tired," said Sara, dropping on to the lopsided footstool. "Oh,
the