"Oh!" cried Sara, with a warm feeling in her heart. "What pains she has taken! I like it so, it--it makes me feel sorrowful."
But the next moment she was mystified. On the under side of the pincushion was secured a card, bearing in neat letters the name "Miss Amelia Minchin."
Sara turned it over and over.
"Miss Amelia!" she said to herself. "How _can_ it be!"
And just at that very moment she heard the door being cautiously pushed open and saw Becky peeping round it.
There was an affectionate, happy grin on her face, and she shuffled forward and stood nervously pulling at her fingers.
"Do yer like it, Miss Sara?" she said. "Do yer?"
"Like it?" cried Sara. "You darling Becky, you made it all yourself."
Becky gave a hysteric but joyful sniff, and her eyes looked quite moist with delight.
"It ain't nothin' but flannin, an' the flannin ain't new; but I wanted to give yer somethin' an' I made it of nights. I knew yer could _pretend_ it was satin with diamond pins in. _I_ tried to when I was makin' it. The card, miss," rather doubtfully; "'t warn't wrong of me to pick it up out o' the dust-bin, was it? Miss 'Meliar had throwed it away. I hadn't no card o' my own, an' I knowed it wouldn't be a proper presink if I didn't pin a card on--so I pinned Miss 'Meliar's."
Sara flew at her and hugged her. She could not have told herself or any one else why there was a lump in her throat.
"Oh, Becky!" she cried out, with a queer little laugh. "I love you, Becky,--I do, I do!"
"Oh, miss!" breathed Becky. "Thank yer, miss, kindly; It ain't good enough for that. The--the flannin wasn't new."
CHAPTER VII
THE DIAMOND-MINES AGAIN
When Sara entered the holly-hung school-room in the afternoon, she did so as the head of a sort of procession. Miss Minchin, in her grandest silk dress, led her by the hand. A man-servant followed, carrying the box containing the Last Doll, a housemaid carried a second box, and Becky brought up the rear, carrying a third and wearing a clean apron and a new cap. Sara would have much preferred to enter in the usual way, but Miss Minchin had sent for her, and, after an interview in her private sitting-room, had expressed her wishes.
"This is not an ordinary occasion," she said. "I do not desire that it should be treated as one."
So Sara was led grandly in and felt shy when, on her entry, the big girls stared at her and touched each other's elbows, and the little ones began to squirm joyously in their seats.
"Silence, young ladies!" said Miss Minchin, at the murmur which arose.
"James, place the box on the table and remove the lid. Emma, put yours upon a chair. Becky!" suddenly and severely.
Becky had quite forgotten herself in her excitement, and was grinning at Lottie, who was wriggling with rapturous expectation. She almost dropped her box, the disapproving voice so startled her, and her frightened, bobbing courtesy of apology was so funny that Lavinia and Jessie tittered.
"It is not your place to look at the young ladies," said Miss Minchin.
"You forget yourself. Put your box down."
Becky obeyed with alarmed haste and hastily backed toward the door.
"You may leave us," Miss Minchin announced to the servants with a wave of her hand.
Becky stepped aside respectfully to allow the superior servants to pass out first. She could not help casting a longing glance at the box on the table. Something made of blue satin was peeping from between the folds of tissue-paper.
"If you please, Miss Minchin," said Sara, suddenly, "mayn't Becky stay?"
It was a bold thing to do. Miss Minchin was betrayed into something like a slight jump. Then she put her eye-glass up, and gazed at her show pupil disturbedly.
"Becky!" she exclaimed. "My dearest Sara!"
Sara advanced a step toward her.
"I want her because I know she will like to see the presents," she explained. "She is a little girl, too, you know."
Miss Minchin was scandalized. She glanced from one figure to the other.
"My dear Sara," she said, "Becky is the scullery-maid.
Scullery-maids--er--are not little girls."
It really had not occurred to her to think of them in that light.
Scullery-maids were machines who carried coal-scuttles and made fires.
"But Becky is," said Sara. "And I know she would enjoy herself. Please let her stay--because it is my birthday."
Miss Minchin replied with much dignity:
"As you ask it as a birthday favor--she may stay. Rebecca, thank Miss Sara for her great kindness."
Becky had been backing into the corner, twisting the hem of her apron in delighted suspense. She came forward, bobbing courtesies, but between Sara's eyes and her own there passed a gleam of friendly understanding, while her words tumbled over each other.
"Oh, if you please, miss! I'm that grateful, miss! I did want to see the doll, miss, that I did. Thank you, miss. And thank you, ma'am,"--turning and making an alarmed bob to Miss Minchin,--"for letting me take the liberty."
Miss Minchin waved her hand again--this time it was in the direction of the corner near the door.
"Go and stand there," she commanded. "Not too near the young ladies."
Becky went to her place, grinning. She did not care where she was sent, so that she might have the luck of being inside the room, instead of being down-stairs in the scullery, while these delights were going on.
She did not even mind when Miss Minchin cleared her throat ominously and spoke again.
"Now, young ladies, I have a few words to say to you," she announced.
"She's going to make a speech," whispered one of the girls. "I wish it was over."
Sara felt rather uncomfortable. As this was her party, it was probable that the speech was about her. It is not agreeable to stand in a school-room and have a speech made about you.
"You are aware, young ladies," the speech began,--for it was a speech,--"that dear Sara is eleven years old to-day."
"_Dear_ Sara!" murmured Lavinia.
"Several of you here have also been eleven years old, but Sara's birthdays are rather different from other little girls' birthdays. When she is older she will be heiress to a large fortune, which it will be her duty to spend in a meritorious manner."