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She did not know at all what she was going to do, but she had a vague inward conviction that it would be better not to say such different kinds of things quite so helplessly and excitedly. "Miss Amelia," she said in a low voice, "Miss Minchin says I may try to make her stop may I?" Miss Amelia turned and looked at her hopelessly. "Oh, DO you think you can?" she gasped.
She met that terrible lady so smartly on one occasion that she retired, worsted, for the afternoon, and the bride drove triumphantly round the place, and called on all her friends, looking as soft as a Chinchilla muff, and dropping at every bungalow the tale of something that Mrs. Minchin had said, by no means to the advantage of the inmates.
The result of this general information all round was, of course, a quarrel between Mrs. Minchin and nearly every lady in the regiment. The bride had not failed to let "the Colonel's lady" know what Mrs. Minchin thought of her going home in the troop-ship, and had made a call upon the Quartermaster's wife for the pleasure of making her acquainted with Mrs.
Stokes, the curate. Poor little Netty, alias Susy, found herself turning red and then pale. "Please, sir," she said, dropping a curtsey that she was accustomed to make to her Board-school teacher, "please, I couldn't come without Dan." "But I didn't know that Mrs. Minchin had a young baby," said the curate, who was very young and fair-haired himself, and looked much puzzled what to do.
"That doll," cried Miss Minchin, pointing to the splendid birthday gift seated near "that ridiculous doll, with all her nonsensical, extravagant things I actually paid the bill for her!" Sara turned her head toward the chair. "The Last Doll," she said. "The Last Doll." And her little mournful voice had an odd sound. "The Last Doll, indeed!" said Miss Minchin. "And she is mine, not yours.
"I have just had this letter from Sara," she said, holding it out to let them see what a long letter it was. "From Sara!" Every voice joined in that exclamation. "Where is she?" almost shrieked Jessie. "Next door," said Ermengarde, "with the Indian gentleman." "Where? Where? Has she been sent away? Does Miss Minchin know? Was the row about that? Why did she write? Tell us! Tell us!"
"Beggars have nowhere to live," she said courageously. "I have a place to live in." "Where do you live?" persisted Lottie. "The new girl sleeps in your room, and it isn't pretty any more." "I live in another room," said Sara. "Is it a nice one?" inquired Lottie. "I want to go and see it." "You must not talk," said Sara. "Miss Minchin is looking at us.
"Go to your attic!" she commanded, and Becky stole away, her face hidden in her apron, her shoulders shaking. Then it was Sara's turn again. "I will attend to you tomorrow. You shall have neither breakfast, dinner, nor supper!" "I have not had either dinner or supper today, Miss Minchin," said Sara, rather faintly. "Then all the better. You will have something to remember. Don't stand there.
"I was thinking," she answered gravely and quite politely, "that you did not know what you were doing." "That I did not know what I was doing!" Miss Minchin fairly gasped. "Yes," said Sara, "and I was thinking what would happen, if I were a princess and you boxed my ears what I should do to you. And I was thinking that if I were one, you would never dare to do it, whatever I said or did.
When Miss Minchin sent her sister, Miss Amelia, to see what the child was doing, she found she could not open the door. "I have locked it," said a queer, polite little voice from inside. "I want to be quite by myself, if you please." Miss Amelia was fat and dumpy, and stood very much in awe of her sister. She was really the better-natured person of the two, but she never disobeyed Miss Minchin.
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