But she is so tired, she thought. She is so tired!
A piece of flaming coal ended her perplexity for her that very moment. It broke off from a large lump and fell on to the fender. Becky started, and opened her eyes with a frightened gasp. She did not know she had fallen asleep. She had only sat down for one moment and felt the beautiful glow and here she found herself staring in wild alarm at the wonderful pupil, who sat perched quite near her, like a rose-colored fairy, with interested eyes.
She sprang up and clutched at her cap. She felt it dangling over her ear, and tried wildly to put it straight. Oh, she had got herself into trouble now with a vengeance! To have impudently fallen asleep on such a young ladys chair! She would be turned out of doors without wages.
She made a sound like a big breathless sob.
Oh, miss! Oh, miss! she stuttered. I arst yer pardon, miss! Oh, I do, miss!
Sara jumped down, and came quite close to her.
Dont be frightened, she said, quite as if she had been speaking to a little girl like herself. It doesnt matter the least bit.
I didnt go to do it, miss, protested Becky. It was the warm fire an me bein so tired. It it wasnt imperence!
Sara broke into a friendly little laugh, and put her hand on her shoulder.
You were tired, she said; you could not help it. You are not really awake yet.
How poor Becky stared at her! In fact, she had never heard such a nice, friendly sound in any ones voice before. She was used to being ordered about and scolded, and having her ears boxed. And this one in her rose-colored dancing afternoon splendor was looking at her as if she were not a culprit at all as if she had a right to be tired even to fall asleep! The touch of the soft, slim little paw on her shoulder was the most amazing thing she had ever known.
Aint aint yer angry, miss? she gasped. Aint yer goin to tell the missus?
No, cried out Sara. Of course Im not.
The woful fright in the coal-smutted face made her suddenly so sorry that she could scarcely bear it. One of her queer thoughts rushed into her mind. She put her hand against Beckys cheek.
Why, she said, we are just the same I am only a little girl like you. Its just an accident that I am not you, and you are not me!
Becky did not understand in the least. Her mind could not grasp such amazing thoughts, and an accident meant to her a calamity in which some one was run over or fell off a ladder and was carried to the orspital.
A accident, miss, she fluttered respectfully. Is it?
Yes, Sara answered, and she looked at her dreamily for a moment. But the next she spoke in a different tone. She realized that Becky did not know what she meant.
Have you done your work? she asked. Dare you stay here a few minutes?
Becky lost her breath again.
Here, miss? Me?
Sara ran to the door, opened it, and looked out and listened.
No one is anywhere about, she explained. If your bedrooms are finished, perhaps you might stay a tiny while. I thought perhaps you might like a piece of cake.
The next ten minutes seemed to Becky like a sort of delirium. Sara opened a cupboard, and gave her a thick slice of cake. She seemed to rejoice when it was devoured in hungry bites. She talked and asked questions, and laughed until Beckys fears actually began to calm themselves, and she once or twice gathered boldness enough to ask a question or so herself, daring as she felt it to be.
Is that she ventured, looking longingly at the rose-colored frock. And she asked it almost in a whisper. Is that there your best?
It is one of my dancing-frocks, answered Sara. I like it, dont you?
For a few seconds Becky was almost speechless with admiration. Then she said in an awed voice:
Onct I see a princess. I was standin in the street with the crowd outside Covin Garden, watchin the swells go inter the operer. An there was one every one stared at most. They ses to each other, Thats the princess. She was a growed-up young lady, but she was pink all over gownd an cloak, an flowers an all. I called her to mind the minnit I see you, sittin there on the table, miss. You looked like her.
Ive often thought, said Sara, in her reflecting voice, that I should like to be a princess; I wonder what it feels like. I believe I will begin pretending I am one.
Becky stared at her admiringly, and, as before, did not understand her in the least. She watched her with
a sort of adoration. Very soon Sara left her reflections and turned to her with a new question.
Becky, she said, werent you listening to that story?
Yes, miss, confessed Becky, a little alarmed again. I knowed I hadnt orter, but it was that beautiful I I couldnt help it.
I liked you to listen to it, said Sara. If you tell stories, you like nothing so much as to tell them to people who want to listen. I dont know why it is. Would you like to hear the rest?
Becky lost her breath again.
Me hear it? she cried. Like as if I was a pupil, miss! All about the Prince and the little white Merbabies swimming about laughing with stars in their hair?