t of a group of friends and enemies, who were
alternately coaxing and scolding her.

"Stop this minute, you cry-baby! Stop this minute!" Lavinia commanded.

"I'm not a cry-baby ... I'm not!" wailed Lottie. "Sara, Sa--ra!"

"If she doesn't stop, Miss Minchin will hear her," cried Jessie.
"Lottie darling, I'll give you a penny!"

"I don't want your penny," sobbed Lottie; and she looked down at the
fat knee, and, seeing a drop of blood on it, burst forth again.

Sara flew across the room and, kneeling down, put her arms round her.

"Now, Lottie," she said. "Now, Lottie, you PROMISED Sara."

"She said I was a cry-baby," wept Lottie.

Sara patted her, but spoke in the steady voice Lottie knew.

"But if you cry, you will be one, Lottie pet. You PROMISED." Lottie
remembered that she had promised, but she preferred to lift up her
voice.

"I haven't any mamma," she proclaimed. "I haven't--a bit--of mamma."

"Yes, you have," said Sara, cheerfully. "Have you forgotten? Don't
you know that Sara is your mamma? Don't you want Sara for your mamma?"

Lottie cuddled up to her with a consoled sniff.

"Come and sit in the window-seat with me," Sara went on, "and I'll
whisper a story to you."

"Will you?" whimpered Lottie. "Will you--tell me--about the diamond
mines?"

"The diamond mines?" broke out Lavinia. "Nasty, little spoiled thing,
I should like to SLAP her!"

Sara got up quickly on her feet. It must be remembered that she had
been very deeply absorbed in the book about the Bastille, and she had
had to recall several things rapidly when she realized that she must go
and take care of her adopted child. She was not an angel, and she was
not fond of Lavinia.

"Well," she said, with some fire, "I should like to slap YOU--but I
don't want to slap you!" restraining herself. "At least I both want to
slap you--and I should LIKE to slap you--but I WON'T slap you. We are
not little gutter children. We are both old enough to know better."

Here was Lavinia's opportunity.

"Ah, yes, your royal highness," she said. "We are princesses, I
believe. At least one of us is. The school ought to be very
fashionable now Miss Minchin has a princess for a pupil."

Sara started toward her. She looked as if she were going to box her
ears. Perhaps she was. Her trick of pretending things was the joy of
her life. She never spoke of it to girls she was not fond of. Her new
"pretend" about being a princess was very ne