Chapter 2.
Making New Friends Chubby Ermengarde St.
John hadn't laughed when Sarah embarrassed Miss Mention by Mistake with her fluent French.
There was nothing funny.
Ermengarde thought about how stupid she was compared with this new student compared with anyone really, or so her father always said.
Her father was a scholar and expected his daughter to read and understand books.
He sent her, but it was hopeless because Ermengarde could not remember what she had just read and was the biggest dunce in the school.
She had been studying French for years with no success, and her pronunciation was just awful.
She was, as the French say, stupid.
Lost in thought, she did not notice that she was chewing on her pigtails.
As her father said, she was always chewing on something.
Unfortunately, Miss Mention did notice.
Miss St.
John!
Miss Mention burst out.
Stop chewing on your hair.
Ermengarde was startled and blushed bright red.
She noticed Sarah watching her, which only made her feel worse.
Wonderful, she thought.
Now the new girl thinks I'm stupid, too.
Or maybe not.
When the lessons were done, Sarah came over to her.
I love your name, Sarah said sweetly.
Ermengarde, she pronounced slowly.
It sounds like a name in a storybook.
Do you think so?
Ermengarde asked.
When Sarah said it, it did sound kind of royal.
Hey, Sarah said suddenly.
Would you like to come up and meet Emily?
Who is she?
Ermengarde asked.
Come up to my room and see, Sarah said.
She held out her hand.
Is it true you have a sitting room all to yourself?
Ermengarde asked Sarah as they climbed the steps to her room.
Yes, Sarah answered.
My papa got me one.
When I make up stories and tell them to Emily, I don't like anyone else to hear me.
Ermengarde gasped.
You speak French and make up stories?
Anyone can make up stories, Sarah said.
You can, too.
Ermengarde didn't believe her, but there was no time to protest.
When they got to her closed door, Sarah put her finger to her lips.
Shh, she whispered mysteriously.
Let's try to catch her.
Ermengarde didn't know what Sarah was talking about, but it sounded very magical.
Sarah flung open the door and Ermengarde peered in, but the only thing she saw was a beautiful doll propped up in a chair by the fireplace.
That sly one, Sarah said chuckling.
She got back to her seat before we could catch her.
They always do.
Ermengarde did not seem to understand, so Sarah told her about the secret lives of dolls.
Ermengarde now looked not only confused but afraid.
What else had a secret life, she wondered.
Maybe the furniture, too.
She glanced down at her chair with suspicion.
Don't worry, Sarah said.
It's only make-believe.
Haven't you ever pretended things?
No, Ermengarde admitted.
Don't worry, Sarah said.
It's easy.
I'll teach you how.
For the next hour Ermengarde sat hugging her knees in delight as Sarah taught her the basics of pretending, of telling stories and making up odd things.
She couldn't teach her French in one hour, but she taught her more about the secret life of dolls and about the voyage from India.
Finally, she told her about her papa.
At that point, she stopped.
Sarah's face puckered up and she looked like she might cry.
Are you all right?
Ermengarde asked.
Do you love your papa?
Sarah asked.
I hardly ever see him, Ermengarde told Sarah.
But I must love him, must I not?
I love mine more than anything else in the world, Sarah blurted out, and I miss him so much.
She looked up and sighed deeply, but I promised him I would be a strong little soldier, and I shall.
I shall.
Ermengarde, inspired by Sarah, had an idea of her own.
Lavinia and Jesse are best friends, she said.
Do you think we could be best friends, too, even if we had to pretend?
Why, I think that's a wonderful idea, Sarah said.
No pretending required.
Lavinia hates you, Ermengarde informed Sarah the next day in the parlor.
She looked over her shoulder for fear that Lavinia was listening.
Before you came, she was the smartest and best-dressed girl in the school.
Lavinia was important.
But Lavinia has no reason to hate me, Sarah said.
She is just jealous.
She can still be important.
Everyone is.
Ermengarde blinked at this.
Even me, she was thinking.
Truth be told, Lavinia was a spiteful young girl and was used to lording it over the other children.
Before Sarah arrived, Lavinia sat next to Miss Minchin at meals and walked at the head of the line on school outings.
But no longer.
Out of fairness, Sarah believed that things happen to people by accident.
She thought it's not my fault that I always liked school and have a papa who loves me and gives me nice things.
At any rate, Sarah said firmly, I don't hate Lavinia.
You're too nice to hate anyone, Ermengarde said.
Sarah thought for a moment.
I try to be nice, Sarah confessed, but how do I know if I really am?
After all, it's easy to be nice when your life is easy.
If my life was harder and I went through many trials, maybe I would not be so nice.
Maybe I would be nasty.
Sarah and Ermengarde's talk was cut short by a powerful, high-pitched scream.
They looked over to see Lavinia standing over Lottie.
On Lottie's cheek was a fresh red mark about the size of Lavinia's right hand.
Speaking of nasty, mumbled Ermengarde.
She slapped me, Lottie wailed.
Sarah rushed over, making a wall between Lavinia and Lottie.
What were you thinking?
She shouted at Lavinia.
Lottie is only four.
You are nearly thirteen, nine years older.
My, how we can add, Lavinia said.
She was thinking that she would very much like to slap Sarah too, but instead she turned up her nose and stormed out of the room.
Even with Lavinia gone, Lottie would not stop crying.
Lottie was the baby not only of the school but also of her family, and had been pampered and humored all her young life.
Unlike Sarah, Lottie had been spoiled by her pampering.
Her mother had died, and the people around her gave her the notion that she could use this fact to get special attention.
She never said please or thank you.
Whenever she wanted something, she kicked and screamed, and little Lottie had quite a pair of lungs.
When she screamed, almost all of London could hear her.
Miss Mention and Miss Amelia could certainly hear her.
Both of them came running.
"'What is going on here?'
Miss Mention demanded.
"'Lottie, why are you crying?'
Lavinia slapped her, Ermengarde said.
I'm sure that's not true, Miss Mention replied.
Lavinia is a lady.
Oh, Laddie screamed, still kicking.
I don't have a...
Poor thing, said Miss Amelia.
What does she need?
She needs to be spanked, Miss Mention said.
That's what.
At this, Lottie's cries became even louder.
Miss Mention, said Sarah.
May I try to talk to her?
Perhaps it will calm her down.
Miss Mention nodded curtly.
Sarah sat down on the floor beside Lottie.
Only instead of talking, Sarah just looked at her without saying a word.
No one knew what to make of Sarah's odd ways.
Lottie didn't know what to think either.
Usually when she cried, everyone made a big fuss.
They begged her to stop promising her anything she wanted.
If only she would be quiet.
But Sarah's behavior was so unusual that Lottie forgot to keep screaming.
Hello, Sarah said when Lottie was finally silent.
Lottie sniffled a hi in response.
Why are you crying, Sarah inquired.
I don't have a... Lottie began.
Go on, Sarah said to encourage her.
I don't have a mama, Lottie finally blurted out.
And although her lower lip still shook, a miracle happened and she was quiet.
Is that true?
Sarah asked Miss Mention.
Perhaps Lottie was not so lucky after all.
Yes, said Miss Mention plainly.
Lottie's mother died when she was little.
At this, Lottie's face turned bright red.
She seemed to be getting ready to kick and scream all over again, but Sarah spoke before Lottie could start.
Neither do I, she said.
Lottie blinked.
Here was another surprise.
Lottie didn't want to stop crying, but now she was confused.
It was no use.
Where is she? she asked.
She's in heaven, Sarah replied.
Well, most of the time.
Lottie's eyes widened.
Where is she the rest of the time?
Lottie asked.
And so Sarah told Lottie her ideas about angels.
Just like dolls, she explained, they led secret afterlives, at times coming back to Earth to watch over the people they loved.
Lottie sat up and looked around.
The thought that her mama might be somewhere nearby watching made her want to act more like a girl who might be related to an angel.
Tell me more, Lottie ordered.
Sarah's stories were as good as candy.
Sarah began to talk, her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed.
Many other girls gathered around to listen.
They became spellbound by Sarah's stories, too.
The way she told them made them seem almost real.
Sarah's voice was dreamy as she described heaven.
There are fields of flowers, she imagined.
The little children run and gather armfuls of them and laugh and make long lily necklaces.
And there are fairies everywhere just floating.
I want to float with the fairies, Lottie declared, because I haven't got any mama down here.
I will be your mama.
Sarah knew just what to say.
We'll pretend that you are my adopted little girl and Emily will be your sister.
When Lottie smiled, her face turned into one big dimple.
Will she? asked the big dimple.
Really?
Yes, Sarah said, jumping to her feet.
Let's go and tell her.
Lottie agreed and cheerfully trotted out of the room after Sarah, as she would do much of the time from then on.
Every so often, Sarah would catch a glimpse of a girl a few years older than she was in the shadows near the school's back entrance or in one of its hallways.
The girl was carrying heavy parcels with great difficulty.
Sarah knew that she was not a student.
Being a curious child, she promised herself to learn more.
The other girl seemed to wonder about Sarah as well, always peeking back at her with wide eyes framed by a sweet coal-smudged face.
In fact, the girl was fourteen years old, but looked only twelve because of her harsh life.
One day she bumped into the girl in the hallway.
Sarah smiled at her.
When Sarah smiled, people usually smiled back, but this girl seemed to get scared instead, as if she had been told that she had no business looking at, let alone smiling at, all the important young ladies.
It's okay, Sarah said kindly.
What's your name?
But the girl had already scurried away, back into the shadows.
That evening, as Sarah was sitting in the parlor telling another one of her famous stories, this one about mermaids and mermen and oh yes, princesses the same little girl came into the room.
She was looking thin and tired and carried a box of coal that was much too heavy.
She kneeled down to sweep up the coal ashes.
She swept once, and then again, and then a third time.
By then, so transported was she by Sarah's story that she stopped sweeping.
Instead, she slumped in a chair dreamily, letting her hearth brush hang loosely from her fingers.
Before the girl knew it, she was under the sea with Sarah and all the important young ladies, with the mermaids and mermen.
Never in her brief hard life had sea flowers and grasses waved so gently around her, as though dancing to the music that, thanks to Sarah, the little girl, now heard also.
The brush fell from her hand with a loud clang.
All of the girls spun around.
Lavinia looked livid.
Her spiteful, stuck-up side showed through.
"'How dare you listen to these stories?' she demanded.
"'I mean, they are stupid stories, but you are only a servant girl.'
The frightened girl mumbled her apologies and, picking up her brush, ran out of the room.
How dare you, Sarah stormed back at Lavinia.
Stories belong to everyone.
She was so angry that she could have slapped Lavinia, but she knew that she should behave like a true princess and not stoop to Lavinia's level.
Later, Sarah found out the girl's name was Becky and that she was an orphan.
Becky was the scullery maid.
She worked in the kitchen below doing messy tasks that no one else would do.
Often the girls could hear Miss Mention's voice ring out from downstairs.
Becky do this and Becky do that.
No one paid any attention though, because it seemed to be so far removed from their rich and comfortable world.
That day, Sarah vowed that she would make friends with Becky.
Without thinking about it.
Sarah often went to the aid of people in need, and Becky was no exception.
The few times their paths crossed again, though, Becky seemed flustered.
Sarah knew Becky would get scolded if she were caught talking to the students, so she kept her distance.
A few weeks later, a lucky accident occurred.
When Sarah entered her sitting room, she found Becky in the velvet armchair by the fire.
She was fast asleep, gently snoring.
Becky had come into the room to tidy it up and to add more coals to Sarah's fire.
Sarah's room was special, cozy and colorful and filled with pictures and books, soft blankets and curious things from India.
There was even a tiger-skin rug made from an animal her father had hunted.
Becky always saved Sarah's room for last as a reward for finishing her work.
Becky had never dared sit down in Sarah's armchair before, but that day she thought I will sit down for just one minute to rest.
The warmth of the fire had enfolded her with its spell.
Just one more minute, she told herself before quickly falling asleep.
Oh, Sarah whispered to Emily.
The poor thing.
She's so tired.
Sarah thought about how it was only an accident that she had such a good life and that Becky had such a hard one.
They were just two little girls, she thought, both of them more or less the same.
She didn't want to wake Becky.
However, she worried that Miss Mention might come in and find her there.
Just then, a piece of burning coal fell onto the fireplace screen with a thud.
Becky opened her eyes, saw Sarah, and sprang up out of her chair.
"'Oh, miss,' she sputtered, "'I beg your pardon.'
"'Don't be sorry,' Sarah said.
"'I'm happy that you're here.'
Sarah reached out and took Becky's hand.
Although Becky was older, she seemed to need mothering as much as Lottie did.
I didn't mean to do it, miss, Becky kept on.
She was so used to being scolded that she did not even notice that Sarah was being kind to her.
But the fire was so warm and the chair was so soft and I was so tired.
I know, Sarah tried to soothe her, and you work so hard.
Becky finally could see that she was not in trouble.
You're really not angry, miss, she gasped.
You're not going to tell the missus.
Of course not, Sarah said.
She had another idea.
Are you done with your work, she asked.
Can you stay a little while longer?
Becky stared at her wide-eyed.
Stay, miss.
Me.
Here.
Sarah ran to the door, checking to see if anyone was around.
The hallway is quiet, she said.
No one knows you're here.
If you are done with your work, perhaps you could visit for a while.
Becky nodded slowly.
Surely, she thought, she was still dreaming in Sarah's armchair.
Sarah opened a cupboard. took out a perfectly frosted chocolate cake, and cut Becky a thick slice.
She smiled with pleasure as Becky ate the whole thing in what seemed like one big bite.
Becky.
Sarah offered if you come to my room every night, I can tell you a little bit more of the mermaid story each time, until the story is finished.
Would you like that?
I would, Becky exclaimed.
I would like that so much.
I wouldn't care anymore how heavy the coal boxes were or how hungry I was or how mean the missus is to me.
If I had that to look forward to, I think I could do anything.
And Becky did survive through the nights that followed, not only on Sarah's snacks and stories, but on her warmth and kindness.
