if I might wish for anything--diamonds
and bags of gold--and they would appear! _That_ couldn't be any stranger
than this. Is this my garret? Am I the same cold, ragged, damp Sara? And
to think how I used to pretend, and pretend, and wish there were
fairies! The one thing I always wanted was to see a fairy story come
true. I am _living_ in a fairy story! I feel as if I might be a fairy
myself, and be able to turn things into anything else!"

It was like a fairy story, and, what was best of all, it continued.
Almost every day something new was done to the garret. Some new comfort
or ornament appeared in it when Sara opened her door at night, until
actually, in a short time, it was a bright little room, full of all
sorts of odd and luxurious things. And the magician had taken care that
the child should not be hungry, and that she should have as many books
as she could read. When she left the room in the morning, the remains of
her supper were on the table, and when she returned in the evening, the
magician had removed them, and left another nice little meal. Downstairs
Miss Minchin was as cruel and insulting as ever, Miss Amelia was as
peevish, and the servants were as vulgar. Sara was sent on errands, and
scolded, and driven hither and thither, but somehow it seemed as if she
could bear it all. The delightful sense of romance and mystery lifted
her above the cook's temper and malice. The comfort she enjoyed and
could always look forward to was making her stronger. If she came home
from her errands wet and tired, she knew she would soon be warm, after
she had climbed the stairs. In a few weeks she began to look less thin.
A little color came into her cheeks, and her eyes did not seem much too
big for her face.

It was just when this was beginning to be so apparent that Miss Minchin
sometimes stared at her questioningly, that another wonderful thing
happened. A man came to the door and left several parcels. All were
addressed (in large letters) to "the little girl in the attic." Sara
herself was sent to open the door, and she took them in. She laid the
two largest parcels down on the hall-table and was looking at the
address, when Miss Minchin came down the stairs.

"Take the things upstairs to the young lady to whom they belong," she
said. "Don't stand there staring at them."

"They belong to me," answered Sara, quietly.

"To you!" exclaimed Miss Minchin. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know where they came from," sa