Miss Amelia turned and looked at her hopelessly. “Oh, DO you think you can?” she gasped.
“I don’t know whether I CAN”, answered Sara, still in her half-whisper; “but I will try.”
Miss Amelia stumbled up from her knees with a heavy sigh, and Lottie’s fat little legs kicked as hard as ever.
“If you will steal out of the room,” said Sara, “I will stay with her.”
“Oh, Sara!” almost whimpered Miss Amelia. “We never had such a dreadful child before. I don’t believe we can keep her.”
But she crept out of the room, and was very much relieved to find an excuse for doing it.
Sara stood by the howling furious child for a few moments, and looked down at her without saying anything. Then she sat down flat on the floor beside her and waited. Except for Lottie’s angry screams, the room was quite quiet. This was a new state of affairs for little Miss Legh, who was accustomed, when she screamed, to hear other people protest and implore and command and coax by turns. To lie and kick and shriek, and find the only person near you not seeming to mind in the least[77], attracted her attention. She opened her tight-shut streaming eyes to see who this person was. And it was only another little girl. But it was the one who owned Emily and all the nice things. And she was looking at her steadily and as if she was merely thinking. Having paused for a few seconds to find this out, Lottie thought she must begin again, but the quiet of the room and of Sara’s odd, interested face made her first howl rather half-hearted.
“I-haven’t-any-ma-ma-ma-a!” she announced; but her voice was not so strong.
Sara looked at her still more steadily, but with a sort of understanding in her eyes.
“Neither have I,” she said.
This was so unexpected that it was astounding. Lottie actually dropped her legs, gave a wriggle[78], and lay and stared. A new idea will stop a crying child when nothing else will. Also it was true that while Lottie disliked Miss Minchin, who was cross, and Miss Amelia, who was foolishly indulgent, she rather liked Sara, little as she knew her. She did not want to give up her grievance, but her thoughts were distracted from it, so she wriggled again, and, after a sulky sob, said, “Where is she?”
Sara paused a moment. Because she had been told that her mamma was in heaven, she had thought a great deal about the matter, and her thoughts had not been quite like those of other people.
“She went to heaven,” she said. “But I am sure she comes out sometimes to see me – though I don’t see her. So does yours. Perhaps they can both see us now. Perhaps they are both in this room.”
Lottie sat bolt upright, and looked about her. She was a pretty, little, curly-headed creature, and her round eyes were like wet forget-me-nots. If her mamma had seen her during the last half-hour, she might not have thought her the kind of child who ought to be related to an angel.
Sara went on talking. Perhaps some people might think that what she said was rather like a fairy story, but it was all so real to her own imagination that Lottie began to listen in spite of herself. She had been told that her mamma had wings and a crown, and she had been shown pictures of ladies in beautiful white nightgowns, who were said to be angels. But Sara seemed to be telling a real story about a lovely country where real people were.
“There are fields and fields of flowers,” she said, forgetting herself, as usual, when she began, and talking rather as if she were in a dream, “fields and fields of lilies – and when the soft wind blows over them it wafts the scent of them into the air – and everybody always breathes it, because the soft wind is always blowing. And little children run about in the lily fields and gather armfuls of them, and laugh and make little wreaths. And the streets are shining. And people are never tired, however far they walk. They can float anywhere they like. And there are walls made of pearl and gold all round the city, but they are low enough for the people to go and lean on them, and look down onto the earth and smile, and send beautiful messages.”
Whatsoever story she had begun to tell, Lottie would, no doubt, have stopped crying, and been fascinated into listening; but there was no denying that this story was prettier than most others. She dragged herself close to Sara, and drank in every word until the end came – far too soon. When it did come, she was so sorry that she put up her lip ominously[79].
“I want to go there,” she cried. “I – haven’t any mamma in this school.”
Sara saw the danger signal, and came out of her dream. She took hold of the chubby hand and pulled her close to her side with a coaxing little laugh.
“I will be your mamma,” she said. “We will play that you are my little girl. And Emily shall be your sister.”
Lottie’s dimples all began to show themselves.
“Shall she?” she said.
“Yes,” answered Sara, jumping to her feet. “Let us go and tell her. And then I will wash your face and brush your hair.”
To which Lottie agreed quite cheerfully, and trotted out of the room and upstairs with her, without seeming even to remember that the whole of the last hour’s tragedy had been caused by the fact that she had refused to be washed and brushed for lunch and Miss Minchin had been called in to use her majestic authority.
And from that time Sara was an adopted mother.
5
Becky
Of course the greatest power Sara possessed and the one which gained her even more followers than her luxuries and the fact that she was “the show pupil,” the power that Lavinia and certain other girls were most envious of, and at the same time most fascinated by in spite of themselves, was her power of telling stories and of making everything she talked about seem like a story, whether it was one or not.
Anyone who has been at school with a teller of stories knows what the wonder means – how he or she is followed about and besought in a whisper to relate romances[80]; how groups gather round and hang on the outskirts of the favored party in the hope of being allowed to join in and listen[81]. Sara not only could tell stories, but she adored telling them. When she sat or stood in the midst of a circle and began to invent wonderful things, her green eyes grew big and shining, her cheeks flushed, and, without knowing that she was doing it, she began to act and made what she told lovely or alarming by the raising or dropping of her voice, the bend and sway of her slim body, and the dramatic movement of her hands. She forgot that she was talking to listening children; she saw and lived with the fairy folk[82], or the kings and queens and beautiful ladies, whose adventures she was narrating. Sometimes when she had finished her story, she was quite out of breath with excitement, and would lay her hand on her thin, little, quick-rising chest, and half laugh as if at herself[83].
“When I am telling it,” she would say, “it doesn’t seem as if it was only made up. It seems more real than you are – more real than the schoolroom. I feel as if I were all the people in the story – one after the other. It is queer.”
She had been at Miss Minchin’s school about two years when, one foggy winter’s afternoon, as she was getting out of her carriage, comfortably wrapped up in her warmest velvets and furs and looking very much grander than she knew[84], she caught sight, as she crossed the pavement, of a dingy little figure[85] standing on the area steps, and stretching its neck so that its wide-open eyes might peer at her through the railings. Something in the eagerness and timidity of the smudgy face made her look at it[86], and when she looked she smiled because it was her way to smile at people.
77
find the only person near you not seeming to mind in the least – обнаружить, что единственный человек рядом не обращает на это никакого внимания
80
how he or she is followed about and besought in a whisper to relate romances – как за ней или ним следуют по пятам и шепотом умоляют рассказать что-нибудь
81
how groups gather round and hang on the outskirts of the favored party in the hope of being allowed to join in and listen – как ребята собираются группами и бродят рядом с теми, кто уже слушает, в надежде, что и им разрешат присоединиться
86
Something in the eagerness and timidity of the smudgy face made her look at it – Напряжение и застенчивость на ее грязном лице привлекли ее внимание