Маленька принцеса
Sara
Itwasabig,dull,brickhouse,exactlylikealltheothersinitsrow,butthatonthefrontdoorthereshoneabrassplateonwhichwasengravedinblackletters:
MISSMINCHIN,SelectSeminaryforYoungLadies.
"Hereweare,Sara,"saidCaptainCrewe,makinghisvoicesoundascheerfulaspossible.Thenheliftedheroutofthecabandtheymountedthestepsandrangthebell.SaraoftenthoughtafterwardthatthehousewassomehowexactlylikeMissMinchin.Itwasrespectableandwellfurnished,buteverythinginitwasugly;andtheveryarmchairsseemedtohavehardbonesinthem.Inthehalleverythingwashardandpolished—eventheredcheeksofthemoonfaceonthetallclockinthecornerhadaseverevarnishedlook.Thedrawingroomintowhichtheywereusheredwascoveredbyacarpetwithasquarepatternuponit,thechairsweresquare,andaheavymarbletimepiecestoodupontheheavymarblemantel.
Asshesatdowninoneofthestiffmahoganychairs,Saracastoneofherquicklooksabouther.
"Idon’tlikeit,papa,"shesaid."ButthenIdaresaysoldiers—evenbraveones—don’treallyLIKEgoingintobattle."
CaptainCrewelaughedoutrightatthis.Hewasyoungandfulloffun,andhenevertiredofhearingSara’squeerspeeches.
"Oh,littleSara,"hesaid."WhatshallIdowhenIhavenoonetosaysolemnthingstome?Nooneelseisassolemnasyouare."
"Butwhydosolemnthingsmakeyoulaughso?"inquiredSara.
