"Here,poor little girl,"he said."Here is a sixpence.
I will give it to you."
Sara started,and all at once realized that she looked exactly like poor children she had seen,in her better days,waiting on the pavement to watch her as she got out of her brougham.
And she had given them pennies many a time.Her face went red and then it went pale,and for a second she felt as if she could not take the dear little sixpence.
"Oh,no!"she said."Oh,no,thank you;I mustn't take it,indeed!"
Her voice was so unlike an ordinary street child's voice and her manner was so like the manner of a well-bred little person that Veronica Eustacia (whose real name was Janet)and Rosalind Gladys (who was really called Nora)leaned forward to listen.
But Guy Clarence was not to be thwarted in his benevolence.
He thrust the sixpence into her hand.
"Yes,you must take it,poor little girl!"he insisted stoutly.
"You can buy things to eat with it.It is a whole sixpence!"
There was something so honest and kind in his face,and he looked so likely to be heartbrokenly disappointed if she did not take it,that Sara knew she must not refuse him.To be as proud as that would be a cruel thing.So she actually put her pride in her pocket,though it must be admitted her cheeks burned.
"Thank you,"she said."You are a kind,kind little darling thing."
And as he scrambled joyfully into the carriage she went away,trying to smile,though she caught her breath quickly and her eyes were shining through a mist.She had known that she looked odd and shabby,but until now she had not known that she might be taken for a beggar.
As the Large Family's carriage drove away,the children inside it were talking with interested excitement.
"Oh,Donald,"(this was Guy Clarence's name),Janet exclaimed alarmedly,"why did you offer that little girl your sixpence?
I'm sure she is not a beggar!"
"She didn't speak like a beggar!"cried Nora."And her face didn't really look like a beggar's face!"
"Besides,she didn't beg,"said Janet."I was so afraid she might be angry with you.You know,it makes people angry to be taken for beggars when they are not beggars."
"She wasn't angry,"said Donald,a trifle dismayed,but still firm.
"She laughed a little,and she said I was a kind,kind little darling thing.And I was!"--stoutly."It was my whole sixpence."
Janet and Nora exchanged glances.
"A beggar girl would never have said that,"decided Janet.
"She would have said,`Thank yer kindly,little gentleman--thank yer,sir;'and perhaps she would have bobbed a curtsy."
Sara knew nothing about the fact,but from that time the Large Family was as profoundly interested in her as she was in it.
Faces used to appear at the nursery windows when she passed,and many discussions concerning her were held round the fire.
"She is a kind of servant at the seminary,"Janet said."I don't believe she belongs to anybody.I believe she is an orphan.
But she is not a beggar,however shabby she looks."
And afterward she was called by all of them,"The-little-girl-who-is-not-a-beggar,"which was,of course,rather a long name,and sounded very funny sometimes when the youngest ones said it in a hurry.
Sara managed to bore a hole in the sixpence and hung it on an old bit of narrow ribbon round her neck.Her affection for the Large Family increased--as,indeed,her affection for everything she could love increased.She grew fonder and fonder of Becky,and she used to look forward to the two mornings a week when she went into the schoolroom to give the little ones their French lesson.
Her small pupils loved her,and strove with each other for the privilege of standing close to her and insinuating their small hands into hers.
It fed her hungry heart to feel them nestling up to her.She made such friends with the sparrows that when she stood upon the table,put her head and shoulders out of the attic window,and chirped,she heard almost immediately a flutter of wings and answering twitters,and a little flock of dingy town birds appeared and alighted on the slates to talk to her and make much of the crumbs she scattered.
With Melchisedec she had become so intimate that he actually brought Mrs.Melchisedec with him sometimes,and now and then one or two of his children.She used to talk to him,and,somehow,he looked quite as if he understood.
There had grown in her mind rather a strange feeling about Emily,who always sat and looked on at everything.It arose in one of her moments of great desolateness.She would have liked to believe or pretend to believe that Emily understood and sympathized with her.
She did not like to own to herself that her only companion could feel and hear nothing.She used to put her in a chair sometimes and sit opposite to her on the old red footstool,and stare and pretend about her until her own eyes would grow large with something which was almost like fear--particularly at night when everything was so still,when the only sound in the attic was the occasional sudden scurry and squeak of Melchisedec's family in the wall.
One of her "pretends"was that Emily was a kind of good witch who could protect her.Sometimes,after she had stared at her until she was wrought up to the highest pitch of fancifulness,she would ask her questions and find herself ALMOST feeling as if she would presently answer.But she never did.
"As to answering,though,"said Sara,trying to console herself,"I don't answer very often.I never answer when I can help it.
When people are insulting you,there is nothing so good for them as not to say a word--just to look at them and THINK>.Miss Minchin turns pale with rage when I do it,Miss Amelia looks frightened,and so do the girls.When you will not fly into a passion people know you are stronger than they are,because you are strong enough to hold in your rage,and they are not,and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said afterward.There's nothing so strong as rage,except what makes you hold it in--that's stronger.
It's a good thing not to answer your enemies.I scarcely ever do.
