The Indian gentleman’s hollow eyes dwelt on her with curious interest.
“That was very thoughtful of you,” he said.
Sara looked toward Ram Dass, who stood near the door.
“Shall I give him to the Lascar?” she asked.
“How do you know he is a Lascar?” said the Indian gentleman, smiling a little.
“Oh, I know Lascars,” Sara said, handing over the reluctant monkey. “I was born in India.”
The Indian gentleman sat upright so suddenly, and with such a change of expression, that she was for a moment quite startled.
“You were born in India,” he exclaimed, “were you? Come here.” And he held out his hand.
Sara went to him and laid her hand in his, as he seemed to want to take it. She stood still, and her green-gray eyes met his wonderingly. Something seemed to be the matter with him.
“You live next door?” he demanded.
“Yes; I live at Miss Minchin’s seminary.”
“But you are not one of her pupils?”
A strange little smile hovered about Sara’s mouth. She hesitated a moment.
“I don’t think I know exactly what I am,” she replied.
“Why not?”
“At first I was a pupil, and a parlor-boarder; but now—”
“You were a pupil! What are you now?”
The queer little sad smile was on Sara’s lips again.
“I sleep in the attic, next to the scullery-maid,” she said. “I run errands for the cook—I do anything she tells me; and I teach the little ones their lessons.”
“Question her, Carmichael,” said Mr. Carrisford, sinking back as if he had lost his strength. “Question her; I cannot.”
The big, kind father of the Large Family knew how to question little girls. Sara realized how much practice he had had when he spoke to her in his nice, encouraging voice.
“What do you mean by ‘At first,’ my child?” he inquired.
“When I was first taken there by my papa.”
“Where is your papa?”
“He died,” said Sara, very quietly. “He lost all his money and there was none left for me. There was no one to take care of me or to pay Miss Minchin.”
“Carmichael!” the Indian gentleman cried out loudly; “Carmichael!”
“We must not frighten her,” Mr. Carmichael said aside to him in a quick, low voice; and he added aloud to Sara: “So you were sent up into the attic, and made into a little drudge. That was about it, wasn’t it?”
“There was no one to take care of me,” said Sara. “There was no money; I belong to nobody.”
“How did your father lose his money?” the Indian gentleman broke in breathlessly.
“He did not lose it himself,” Sara answered, wondering still more each moment. “He had a friend he was very fond of—he was very fond of him. It was his friend who took his money. He trusted his friend too much.”
The Indian gentleman’s breath came more quickly.
“The friend might have meant to do no harm,” he said. “It might have happened through a mistake.”
Sara did not know how unrelenting her quiet young voice sounded as she answered. If she had known, she would surely have tried to soften it for the Indian gentleman’s sake.
“The suffering was just as bad for my papa,” she said. “It killed him.”
“What was your father’s name?” the Indian gentleman said. “Tell me.”
“His name was Ralph Crewe,” Sara answered, feeling startled. “Captain Crewe. He died in India.”
The haggard face contracted, and Ram Dass sprang to his master’s side.
“Carmichael,” the invalid gasped, “it is the child—the child!”
For a moment Sara thought he was going to die. Ram Dass poured out drops from a bottle, and held them to his lips. Sara stood near, trembling a little. She looked in a bewildered way at Mr. Carmichael.
“What child am I?” she faltered.
“He was your father’s friend,” Mr. Carmichael answered her. “Don’t be frightened. We have been looking for you for two years.”
Sara put her hand up to her forehead, and her mouth trembled. She spoke as if she were in a dream.
“And I was at Miss Minchin’s all the while,” she half whispered. “Just on the other side of the wall.”
XVIII
“I Tried Not to Be”
It was pretty, comfortable Mrs. Carmichael who explained everything. She was sent for at once, and came across the square to take Sara into her warm arms and make clear to her all that had happened. The excitement of the totally unexpected discovery had been temporarily almost overpowering to Mr. Carrisford in his weak condition.
“Upon my word,” he said faintly to Mr. Carmichael, when it was suggested that the little girl should go into another room, “I feel as if I do not want to lose sight of her.”
“I will take care of her,” Janet said, “and mamma will come in a few minutes.” And it was Janet who led her away.
“We’re so glad you are found,” she said. “You don’t know how glad we are that you are found.”
Donald stood with his hands in his pockets, and gazed at Sara with reflecting and self-reproachful eyes.
“If I’d just asked what your name was when I gave you my sixpence,” he said, “you would have told me it was Sara Crewe, and then you would have been found in a minute.”
Then Mrs. Carmichael came in. She looked very much moved, and suddenly took Sara in her arms and kissed her.
“You look bewildered, poor child,” she said. “And it is not to be wondered at.”
Sara could only think of one thing.
“Was he,” she said, with a glance toward the closed door of the library—“was he the wicked friend? Oh, do tell me!”
Mrs. Carmichael was crying as she kissed her again. She felt as if she ought to be kissed very often because she had not been kissed for so long.
“He was not wicked, my dear,” she answered. “He did not really lose your papa’s money. He only thought he had lost it; and because he loved him so much his grief made him so ill that for a time he was not in his right mind. He almost died of brain-fever, and long before
