ing one book after the other. "What are you going to tell
your father?" she asked, a slight doubt dawning in her mind.

"Oh, he needn't know," answered Ermengarde. "He'll think I've read
them."

Sara put down her book and shook her head slowly. "That's almost like
telling lies," she said. "And lies--well, you see, they are not only
wicked--they're VULGAR. Sometimes"--reflectively--"I've thought perhaps
I might do something wicked--I might suddenly fly into a rage and kill
Miss Minchin, you know, when she was ill-treating me--but I COULDN'T be
vulgar. Why can't you tell your father _I_ read them?"

"He wants me to read them," said Ermengarde, a little discouraged by
this unexpected turn of affairs.

"He wants you to know what is in them," said Sara. "And if I can tell
it to you in an easy way and make you remember it, I should think he
would like that."

"He'll like it if I learn anything in ANY way," said rueful Ermengarde.
"You would if you were my father."

"It's not your fault that--" began Sara. She pulled herself up and
stopped rather suddenly. She had been going to say, "It's not your
fault that you are stupid."

"That what?" Ermengarde asked.

"That you can't learn things quickly," amended Sara. "If you can't,
you can't. If I can--why, I can; that's all."

She always felt very tender of Ermengarde, and tried not to let her
feel too strongly the difference between being able to learn anything
at once, and not being able to learn anything at all. As she looked at
her plump face, one of her wise, old-fashioned thoughts came to her.

"Perhaps," she said, "to be able to learn things quickly isn't
everything. To be kind is worth a great deal to other people. If Miss
Minchin knew everything on earth and was like what she is now, she'd
still be a detestable thing, and everybody would hate her. Lots of
clever people have done harm and have been wicked. Look at
Robespierre--"

She stopped and examined Ermengarde's countenance, which was beginning
to look bewildered. "Don't you remember?" she demanded. "I told you
about him not long ago. I believe you've forgotten."

"Well, I don't remember ALL of it," admitted Ermengarde.

"Well, you wait a minute," said Sara, "and I'll take off my wet things
and wrap myself in the coverlet and tell you over again."

She took off her hat and coat and hung them on a nail against the wall,
and she changed her wet shoes for an old pair of slippers. Then she
j