Miss Minchin turned white with rage. "I'll throw Sara out of the school!" she cried to Mr. Barrow, the lawyer.
Mr. Barrow had moved toward the door. "I wouldn't do that, madam," he replied. "People will think you're cruel. They won't want to send their daughters to the school."
Miss Minchin knew that Mr. Barrow was a clever businessman. And she herself was a shrewd businesswoman. "So what should I do with her?" she asked Mr. Barrow.
"Keep her. She's a clever child. You can get a lot of work from her before she grows older."
"I will get a lot of work out of her before she's older!" exclaimed Miss Minchin.
"I'm sure you will," said Mr. Barrow with an evil smile. "Good day."
As the lawyer left, Miss Amelia came into the schoolroom. Miss Amelia took a step backward when she saw the furious face of her sister.
"Does Sara have a black dress?" demanded Miss Minchin.
"Yes, but it's too small for her now," said Miss Amelia, trembling.
"Tell her to put it on anyway!" Miss Minchin said fiercely. "And tell her that her father has died. Then send her to me!"
Miss Amelia gasped and sat down in a nearby chair. "Captain Crewe is dead?"
"Yes, and he has died without a penny," said Miss Minchin. "That spoiled, daydreaming child is left a pauper in my care. I'm getting rid of her carriage, her maid, and that huge birthday doll at once. Now go tell her!"
"But . . . Must I tell her now?" Miss Amelia asked.
"This moment! Don't sit staring like a goose! Go!"
Miss Amelia felt sorry for Sara. But she didn't dare to disobey her sister. She hurried away.
Miss Minchin paced around the room. All year she'd been dreaming about Captain Crewe's diamond mines. She'd imagined a fortune being left to the school. And now, instead of looking forward to a gift from him, she would have nothing. "Princess Sara indeed!" she muttered.
As she swept past the table, Miss Minchin heard a noise. It sounded like someone crying. She pulled up the tablecloth. There was Becky!
"How dare you!" cried Miss Minchin. "You've been listening!"
"I didn't mean to, ma'am!" Becky desperately tried to explain. "Poor Miss Sara. How will she manage without a maid? Please, may I wait on her?"
"No. She's a servant now," Miss Minchin snapped. "She'll wait on other people."
Meanwhile Miss Amelia spoke to Sara. The little girl refused to show any emotion in front of Miss Amelia. She ran to her room.
"My papa is dead!" she kept repeating in horror.
Finally Sara put on her black dress. She picked up Emily and went to see Miss Minchin.
"Put down your doll," said Miss Minchin.
"No," Sara replied. "She's all I have. My papa gave her to me."
Miss Minchin glared at Sara. "You'll have no time for dolls now. You will have to work and improve yourself and make yourself useful."
Sara looked almost relieved. "Working will make things easier to bear," she said.
"You'll do whatever you're told," Miss Minchin said. "You'll run errands and help in the kitchen. You'll help the younger children with their French lessons."
"Oh, I can do that!" exclaimed Sara.
The headmistress looked stern. "Everything will be different now. And if you don't please me, you'll be sent away. Remember that. Now go."
Sara turned to leave.
"Stop!" said Miss Minchin. "Aren't you going to thank me?"
"What for?" asked Sara.
"For my kindness in giving you a home."
Dark thoughts had filled Sara's heart. Slowly, she took a deep breath. "You are not kind, and this is not a home."
Sara ran out of the room. All she wanted to do was go to her room and think. But Miss Amelia was standing at her door.
"This isn't your room now," said Miss Amelia. She was following Miss Minchin's orders, but she didn't like them.
"Where is my room?" asked Sara.
"In the attic next to Becky's room."
Sara slowly climbed the stairs to the attic. She opened the door to a different world from downstairs. Her new room had a slanting ceiling and a dingy skylight. The furniture looked worn and uncomfortable.
Sara sat down on an old footstool. She hugged Emily tight, but she didn't cry. She just put her face on Emily and sat there, not making one sound.
She was still sitting like that when Becky came in.
The servant girl ran to Sara and hugged her.
"Oh, Becky!" said Sara, at last letting out a sob. "I told you we were the same—just two children. I'm not a princess anymore."
"Yes, you are, Miss Sara!" Becky sobbed. "You'll always be a princess!"