saw her face suddenly change. A cloud seemed to pass over it and put out the light in her shining eyes. She drew her breath in so sharply that it made a funny, sad little sound, and then she shut her lips and held them tightly closed, as if she was determined either to do or NOT to do something. Ermengarde had an idea that if she had been like any other little girl, she might have suddenly burst out sobbing and crying. But she did not.
“Have you a—a pain?” Ermengarde ventured.
“Yes,” Sara answered,
was turning over its leaves. Sara went to her politely.
“As your papa has engaged a French maid for you,” she began, “I conclude that he wishes you to make a special study of the French language.”
Sara felt a little awkward.
“I think he engaged her,” she said, “because he—he thought I would like