Маленькая принцесса
One of the Populace
"I’mnotstarving,"shesaid—andsheputdownthefifth.
ThelittleraveningLondonsavagewasstillsnatchinganddevouringwhensheturnedaway.Shewastooravenoustogiveanythanks,evenifshehadeverbeentaughtpoliteness—whichshehadnot.Shewasonlyapoorlittlewildanimal.
"Good-bye,"saidSara.
Whenshereachedtheothersideofthestreetshelookedback.Thechildhadabunineachhandandhadstoppedinthemiddleofabitetowatchher.Saragaveheralittlenod,andthechild,afteranotherstare—acuriouslingeringstare—jerkedhershaggyheadinresponse,anduntilSarawasoutofsightshedidnottakeanotherbiteorevenfinishtheoneshehadbegun.
Atthatmomentthebaker-womanlookedoutofhershopwindow.
"Well,Inever!"sheexclaimed."Ifthatyoungunhasn’tgivenherbunstoabeggarchild!Itwasn’tbecauseshedidn’twantthem,either.Well,well,shelookedhungryenough.I’dgivesomethingtoknowwhatshediditfor."
Shestoodbehindherwindowforafewmomentsandpondered.Thenhercuriositygotthebetterofher.Shewenttothedoorandspoketothebeggarchild.
"Whogaveyouthosebuns?"sheaskedher.ThechildnoddedherheadtowardSara’svanishingfigure.
"Whatdidshesay?"inquiredthewoman.
"AxedmeifIwas’ungry,"repliedthehoarsevoice.
"Whatdidyousay?"
"SaidIwasjist."
"Andthenshecameinandgotthebuns,andgavethemtoyou,didshe?"
Thechildnodded.
"Howmany?"
"Five."
Thewomanthoughtitover.
