The Complete Works of Frances Hodgson Burnett. Frances Hodgson Burnett

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СКАЧАТЬ Miss Minchin,” Sara answered; but as she turned away her heart leaped with the memory of what yesterday had been. “If the Magic had not saved me just in time,” she thought, “how horrible it would have been!”

      “She can’t be very hungry,” whispered Lavinia. “Just look at her. Perhaps she is pretending she has had a good breakfast”—with a spiteful laugh.

      “She’s different from other people,” said Jessie, watching Sara with her class. “Sometimes I’m a bit frightened of her.”

      “Ridiculous thing!” ejaculated Lavinia.

      All through the day the light was in Sara’s face, and the color in her cheek. The servants cast puzzled glances at her, and whispered to each other, and Miss Amelia’s small blue eyes wore an expression of bewilderment. What such an audacious look of well-being, under august displeasure could mean she could not understand. It was, however, just like Sara’s singular obstinate way. She was probably determined to brave the matter out.

      One thing Sara had resolved upon, as she thought things over. The wonders which had happened must be kept a secret, if such a thing were possible. If Miss Minchin should choose to mount to the attic again, of course all would be discovered. But it did not seem likely that she would do so for some time at least, unless she was led by suspicion. Ermengarde and Lottie would be watched with such strictness that they would not dare to steal out of their beds again. Ermengarde could be told the story and trusted to keep it secret. If Lottie made any discoveries, she could be bound to secrecy also. Perhaps the Magic itself would help to hide its own marvels.

      “But whatever happens,” Sara kept saying to herself all day—“WHATEVER happens, somewhere in the world there is a heavenly kind person who is my friend—my friend. If I never know who it is—if I never can even thank him—I shall never feel quite so lonely. Oh, the Magic was GOOD to me!”

      If it was possible for weather to be worse than it had been the day before, it was worse this day—wetter, muddier, colder. There were more errands to be done, the cook was more irritable, and, knowing that Sara was in disgrace, she was more savage. But what does anything matter when one’s Magic has just proved itself one’s friend. Sara’s supper of the night before had given her strength, she knew that she should sleep well and warmly, and, even though she had naturally begun to be hungry again before evening, she felt that she could bear it until breakfast-time on the following day, when her meals would surely be given to her again. It was quite late when she was at last allowed to go upstairs. She had been told to go into the schoolroom and study until ten o’clock, and she had become interested in her work, and remained over her books later.

      When she reached the top flight of stairs and stood before the attic door, it must be confessed that her heart beat rather fast.

      “Of course it MIGHT all have been taken away,” she whispered, trying to be brave. “It might only have been lent to me for just that one awful night. But it WAS lent to me—I had it. It was real.”

      She pushed the door open and went in. Once inside, she gasped slightly, shut the door, and stood with her back against it looking from side to side.

      The Magic had been there again. It actually had, and it had done even more than before. The fire was blazing, in lovely leaping flames, more merrily than ever. A number of new things had been brought into the attic which so altered the look of it that if she had not been past doubting she would have rubbed her eyes. Upon the low table another supper stood—this time with cups and plates for Becky as well as herself; a piece of bright, heavy, strange embroidery covered the battered mantel, and on it some ornaments had been placed. All the bare, ugly things which could be covered with draperies had been concealed and made to look quite pretty. Some odd materials of rich colors had been fastened against the wall with fine, sharp tacks—so sharp that they could be pressed into the wood and plaster without hammering. Some brilliant fans were pinned up, and there were several large cushions, big and substantial enough to use as seats. A wooden box was covered with a rug, and some cushions lay on it, so that it wore quite the air of a sofa.

      Sara slowly moved away from the door and simply sat down and looked and looked again.

      “It is exactly like something fairy come true,” she said. “There isn’t the least difference. I feel as if I might wish for anything—diamonds or bags of gold—and they would appear! THAT wouldn’t be any stranger than this. Is this my garret? Am I the same cold, ragged, damp Sara? And to think 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 able to turn things into anything else.”

      She rose and knocked upon the wall for the prisoner in the next cell, and the prisoner came.

      When she entered she almost dropped in a heap upon the floor. For a few seconds she quite lost her breath.

      “Oh, laws!” she gasped. “Oh, laws, miss!”

      “You see,” said Sara.

      On this night Becky sat on a cushion upon the hearth rug and had a cup and saucer of her own.

      When Sara went to bed she found that she had a new thick mattress and big downy pillows. Her old mattress and pillow had been removed to Becky’s bedstead, and, consequently, with these additions Becky had been supplied with unheard-of comfort.

      “Where does it all come from?” Becky broke forth once. “Laws, who does it, miss?”

      “Don’t let us even ASK,” said Sara. “If it were not that I want to say, ‘Oh, thank you,’ I would rather not know. It makes it more beautiful.”

      From that time life became more wonderful day by day. The fairy story continued. Almost every day something new was done. Some new comfort or ornament appeared each time Sara opened the door at night, until in a short time the attic was a beautiful little room full of all sorts of odd and luxurious things. The ugly walls were gradually entirely covered with pictures and draperies, ingenious pieces of folding furniture appeared, a bookshelf was hung up and filled with books, new comforts and conveniences appeared one by one, until there seemed nothing left to be desired. When Sara went downstairs in the morning, the remains of the supper were on the table; and when she returned to the attic in the evening, the magician had removed them and left another nice little meal. Miss Minchin was as harsh and insulting as ever, Miss Amelia as peevish, and the servants were as vulgar and rude. Sara was sent on errands in all weathers, and scolded and driven hither and thither; she was scarcely allowed to speak to Ermengarde and Lottie; Lavinia sneered at the increasing shabbiness of her clothes; and the other girls stared curiously at her when she appeared in the schoolroom. But what did it all matter while she was living in this wonderful mysterious story? It was more romantic and delightful than anything she had ever invented to comfort her starved young soul and save herself from despair. Sometimes, when she was scolded, she could scarcely keep from smiling.

      “If you only knew!” she was saying to herself. “If you only knew!”

      The comfort and happiness she enjoyed were making her stronger, and she had them always to look forward to. If she came home from her errands wet and tired and hungry, she knew she would soon be warm and well fed after she had climbed the stairs. During the hardest day she could occupy herself blissfully by thinking of what she should see when she opened the attic door, and wondering what new delight had been prepared for her. In a very short time she began to look less thin. Color came into her cheeks, and her eyes did not seem so much too big for her face.

      “Sara СКАЧАТЬ