eyes to see who this person was. And it was only another little girl. But it was the one who owned Emily and all the nice things. And she was looking at her steadily and as if she was merely thinking. Having paused for a few seconds to find this out, Lottie thought she must begin again, but the quiet of the room and of Sara’s odd, interested face made her first howl rather half-hearted.
“I—haven’t—any—ma—ma—ma-a!” she announced; but her voice was not so strong.
Sara looked at her still more steadily,
when she heard the titters and saw the poor, stupid, distressed child’s face.
“It isn’t funny, really,” she said between her teeth, as she bent over her book. “They ought not to laugh.”
When lessons were over and the pupils gathered together in groups to talk, Sara looked for Miss St. John, and finding