having her ears boxed. And this one—in her rose-colored dancing afternoon splendor—was looking at her as if she were not a culprit at all—as if she had a right to be tired—even to fall asleep! The touch of the soft, slim little paw on her shoulder was the most amazing thing she had ever known.
“Ain’t—ain’t yer angry, miss?” she gasped. “Ain’t yer goin’ to tell the missus?”
“No,” cried out Sara. “Of course I’m not.”
The woeful fright in the coal-smutted face made her suddenly so sorry that she
worldly a woman to do or say anything which might make such a desirable pupil wish to leave her school. She knew quite well that if Sara wrote to her papa to tell him she was uncomfortable or unhappy, Captain Crewe would remove her at once. Miss Minchin’s opinion was that if a child were continually