ly indeed that Miss Minchin was
obliged to almost shout--in a stately and severe manner--to make
herself heard.

"What IS she crying for?" she almost yelled.

"Oh--oh--oh!" Sara heard; "I haven't got any mam--ma-a!"

"Oh, Lottie!" screamed Miss Amelia. "Do stop, darling! Don't cry!
Please don't!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Lottie howled tempestuously.
"Haven't--got--any--mam--ma-a!"

"She ought to be whipped," Miss Minchin proclaimed. "You SHALL be
whipped, you naughty child!"

Lottie wailed more loudly than ever. Miss Amelia began to cry. Miss
Minchin's voice rose until it almost thundered, then suddenly she
sprang up from her chair in impotent indignation and flounced out of
the room, leaving Miss Amelia to arrange the matter.

Sara had paused in the hall, wondering if she ought to go into the
room, because she had recently begun a friendly acquaintance with
Lottie and might be able to quiet her. When Miss Minchin came out and
saw her, she looked rather annoyed. She realized that her voice, as
heard from inside the room, could not have sounded either dignified or
amiable.

"Oh, Sara!" she exclaimed, endeavoring to produce a suitable smile.

"I stopped," explained Sara, "because I knew it was Lottie--and I
thought, perhaps--just perhaps, I could make her be quiet. May I try,
Miss Minchin?"

"If you can, you are a clever child," answered Miss Minchin, drawing in
her mouth sharply. Then, seeing that Sara looked slightly chilled by
her asperity, she changed her manner. "But you are clever in
everything," she said in her approving way. "I dare say you can manage
her. Go in." And she left her.

When Sara entered the room, Lottie was lying upon the floor, screaming
and kicking her small fat legs violently, and Miss Amelia was bending
over her in consternation and despair, looking quite red and damp with
heat. Lottie had always found, when in her own nursery at home, that
kicking and screaming would always be quieted by any means she insisted
on. Poor plump Miss Amelia was trying first one method, and then
another.

"Poor darling," she said one moment, "I know you haven't any mamma,
poor--" Then in quite another tone, "If you don't stop, Lottie, I will
shake you. Poor little angel! There--! You wicked, bad, detestable
child, I will smack you! I will!"

Sara went to them quietly. She did not know at all what she was going
to do, but she had a vague inward conviction that it would be better