Маленькая принцесса

           "Becky,"shesaid,"weren’tyoulisteningtothatstory?"

           "Yes,miss,"confessedBecky,alittlealarmedagain."IknowedIhadn’torter,butitwasthatbeautifulI—Icouldn’thelpit."

           "Ilikedyoutolistentoit,"saidSara."Ifyoutellstories,youlikenothingsomuchastotellthemtopeoplewhowanttolisten.Idon’tknowwhyitis.Wouldyouliketoheartherest?"

           Beckylostherbreathagain.

           "Mehearit?"shecried."LikeasifIwasapupil,miss!AllaboutthePrince—andthelittlewhiteMer-babiesswimmingaboutlaughing—withstarsintheirhair?"

           Saranodded.

           "Youhaven’ttimetohearitnow,I’mafraid,"shesaid;"butifyouwilltellmejustwhattimeyoucometodomyrooms,Iwilltrytobehereandtellyouabitofiteverydayuntilitisfinished.It’salovelylongone—andI’malwaysputtingnewbitstoit."

           "Then,"breathedBecky,devoutly,"Iwouldn’tmindHOWheavythecoalboxeswas—orWHATthecookdonetome,if—ifImighthavethattothinkof."

           "Youmay,"saidSara."I’lltellitALLtoyou."

           WhenBeckywentdownstairs,shewasnotthesameBeckywhohadstaggeredup,loadeddownbytheweightofthecoalscuttle.Shehadanextrapieceofcakeinherpocket,andshehadbeenfedandwarmed,butnotonlybycakeandfire.Somethingelsehadwarmedandfedher,andthesomethingelsewasSara.