some of the Hindustani she had learned when she lived with her father. She could make the man understand. She spoke to him in the language he knew.
“Will he let me catch him?” she asked.
She thought she had never seen more surprise and delight than the dark face expressed when she spoke in the familiar tongue. The truth was that the poor fellow felt as if his gods had intervened, and the kind little voice came from heaven itself. At once Sara saw that he had been accustomed to European children.
the side of this child—whom she realized more fully than ever that she had never liked—was too much. She actually stamped her foot.
“No—certainly not,” she said. “She will wait on herself, and on other people, too. Leave the room this instant, or you’ll leave your place.”
Becky threw her apron over