was hard and polished--even the red cheeks of the moon face on the tall
clock in the corner had a severe varnished look. The drawing room into
which they were ushered was covered by a carpet with a square pattern
upon it, the chairs were square, and a heavy marble timepiece stood
upon the heavy marble mantel.

As she sat down in one of the stiff mahogany chairs, Sara cast one of
her quick looks about her.

"I don't like it, papa," she said. "But then I dare say soldiers--even
brave ones--don't really LIKE going into battle."

Captain Crewe laughed outright at this. He was young and full of fun,
and he never tired of hearing Sara's queer speeches.

"Oh, little Sara," he said. "What shall I do when I have no one to say
solemn things to me? No one else is as solemn as you are."

"But why do solemn things make you laugh so?" inquired Sara.

"Because you are such fun when you say them," he answered, laughing
still more. And then suddenly he swept her into his arms and kissed
her very hard, stopping laughing all at once and looking almost as if
tears had come into his eyes.

It was just then that Miss Minchin entered the room. She was very like
her house, Sara felt: tall and dull, and respectable and ugly. She had
large, cold, fishy eyes, and a large, cold, fishy smile. It spread
itself into a very large smile when she saw Sara and Captain Crewe.
She had heard a great many desirable things of the young soldier from
the lady who had recommended her school to him. Among other things, she
had heard that he was a rich father who was willing to spend a great
deal of money on his little daughter.

"It will be a great privilege to have charge of such a beautiful and
promising child, Captain Crewe," she said, taking Sara's hand and
stroking it. "Lady Meredith has told me of her unusual cleverness. A
clever child is a great treasure in an establishment like mine."

Sara stood quietly, with her eyes fixed upon Miss Minchin's face. She
was thinking something odd, as usual.

"Why does she say I am a beautiful child?" she was thinking. "I am not
beautiful at all. Colonel Grange's little girl, Isobel, is beautiful.
She has dimples and rose-colored cheeks, and long hair the color of
gold. I have short black hair and green eyes; besides which, I am a
thin child and not fair in the least. I am one of the ugliest children
I ever saw. She is beginning by telling a story."

She was mistaken, however, in thinking she was an