A Little Princess

Chapter 1: Sara

One day in winter, thick yellow fog covered the streets of London. It was so foggy that the lamps were lit and shop windows glowed, even though it wasn't night yet.

A little girl rode through the busy streets in a cab (an old kind of taxi) with her father. She sat close to him with her feet tucked up. She looked out the window at the people walking by. Her big eyes had a thoughtful look — the kind of look you might not expect on such a young face.

This look would have seemed old for a twelve-year-old. But Sara Crewe was only seven! She always thought about grown-up things and the world around her. She felt like she had lived a very long time already.

Right now, she was thinking about her trip on a big ship from India. She thought about the sailors walking back and forth, the children playing on the hot deck, and the officers' wives who liked to hear her talk.

Mostly, she was thinking about something strange. Just a little while ago, she had been in India, where the sun was hot and bright. Then she was in the middle of the ocean. Now she was riding through dark streets in the middle of the day! This puzzled her so much that she moved closer to her father.

"Papa," she whispered softly, "papa."

"What is it, dear?" Captain Crewe answered, hugging her close. "What is Sara thinking about?"

"Is this the place?" Sara whispered, snuggling closer. "Is it, papa?"

"Yes, little Sara, it is. We are finally here." Even though she was only seven, Sara could tell he felt sad saying this.

Sara's father had been getting her ready for "the place" for a long time. That's what she always called it. Her mother had died when Sara was born, so Sara never knew her and never missed her. Her father — young, handsome, rich, and loving — seemed to be her only family in the world. They always played together and loved each other very much.

Sara knew her father was rich because she heard grown-ups say so when they thought she wasn't listening. She also heard that she would be rich too when she grew up. But she didn't understand everything that being rich meant. She had always lived in a beautiful house in India. Many servants took care of her and called her "Missee Sahib." She had toys, pets, and a nurse (called an ayah) who loved her very much. She knew rich people had these things — but that's all she really understood about being rich.

Only one thing had ever worried Sara: this trip to "the place" she was being taken to. Children couldn't stay healthy in India's hot weather forever, so they were sent away — usually to England, to go to school. Sara had watched other children leave, and heard grown-ups talk about the letters they got from them. She knew someday she would have to go too. Her father's stories about the ocean trip and the new country sounded exciting sometimes. But she always felt sad thinking that he couldn't stay with her.

"Couldn't you come to that place with me, papa?" she had asked when she was five. "Couldn't you go to school too? I could help you with your lessons."

"But you won't have to stay very long, little Sara," he always said. "You'll go to a nice house with lots of little girls to play with. I'll send you plenty of books. You'll grow up so fast, it will feel like no time at all before you're big enough and smart enough to come back and take care of papa."

Sara liked thinking about that. Taking care of her father's house, riding with him, sitting at the head of his table during dinner parties, talking with him, and reading his books — that's what she wanted most in the world. If she had to go away to school in England to get there someday, she would just have to accept it. She didn't care much about other little girls, but if she had plenty of books, she'd be happy. She loved books more than anything else. She was always making up stories about wonderful things and telling them to herself. Sometimes she told them to her father, and he loved them just as much as she did.

"Well, papa," she said softly, "if we're here, I suppose we must make the best of it."

He laughed at the grown-up way she talked and kissed her. He wasn't happy about it either, though he tried to hide it. His funny, thoughtful little Sara had been wonderful company for him. He knew he would feel very lonely going back to his house in India, knowing she wouldn't be there to greet him. He held her close as the cab rolled into the big, gloomy square where their destination stood.

It was a big brick house, just like all the others on the street. But on the front door was a shiny brass sign with black letters that read:

MISS MINCHIN,
Select Seminary for Young Ladies.

(A "seminary" is just an old word for a school.)

"Here we are, Sara," said Captain Crewe, trying to sound cheerful. He lifted her out of the cab, and they walked up the steps and rang the bell.

Sara later thought the house looked exactly like Miss Minchin herself. It was proper and nicely furnished, but everything about it seemed unfriendly — even the chairs looked hard and stiff. In the hallway, everything was polished and cold, even the clock in the corner, whose painted face looked stern. The sitting room they were led into had a stiff, square carpet, square chairs, and a heavy stone clock on a heavy stone mantel.

As Sara sat down in one of the hard wooden chairs, she looked around quickly.

"I don't like it, papa," she said. "But I suppose even brave soldiers don't really like going into battle."

Captain Crewe laughed loudly at this. He was young and fun-loving, and he never got tired of Sara's funny, serious little sayings.

"Oh, little Sara," he said. "What will I do when I have no one to say such serious things to me? No one else is as serious as you are!"

"But why do serious things make you laugh so much?" Sara asked.

"Because you're so funny when you say them," he answered, laughing even harder. Then he suddenly hugged her tight and kissed her, and just as suddenly stopped laughing. His eyes looked like they almost had tears in them.

Just then, Miss Minchin walked into the room. Sara thought she looked just like her house — tall, dull, proper, and unfriendly. She had large, cold eyes, like a fish, and a large, cold smile to match. That smile grew even bigger when she saw Sara and Captain Crewe. She had heard many good things about this young father from the lady who recommended her school. She'd heard, among other things, that he was rich and would spend plenty of money on his daughter.

"It will be wonderful to take care of such a beautiful and clever child, Captain Crewe," she said, taking Sara's hand and patting it. "Lady Meredith has told me how unusually smart she is. A clever child is a real treasure at my school."

Sara stood quietly, staring at Miss Minchin's face. She was thinking something odd, as she often did.

"Why does she say I'm beautiful?" she wondered. "I'm not beautiful at all. Colonel Grange's daughter, Isobel, is beautiful. She has dimples, pink cheeks, and long golden hair. I have short black hair and green eyes. I'm thin and not fair-skinned at all. I might be one of the ugliest children I've ever seen! She's starting off with a fib."

But Sara was wrong about being ugly. She didn't look like Isobel Grange, who had been called the prettiest girl around. But Sara had her own special charm. She was slim and graceful, tall for her age, with an interesting, striking little face. Her hair was thick and black, curling only at the ends. Her eyes were greenish-gray — not her favorite color, but many other people admired them. They were big and wonderful, framed by long black lashes. Still, Sara firmly believed she was an ugly little girl, so Miss Minchin's compliment didn't impress her one bit.

"I'd be telling a fib if I said she was beautiful," Sara thought, "and I'd know it was a fib. I think I'm just as plain as she is, in my own way. Why did she say that?"

Later, after getting to know Miss Minchin better, Sara learned the answer. Miss Minchin said the exact same thing to every mom and dad who brought a child to her school!

Sara stood near her father, listening as he talked with Miss Minchin. Sara had been brought to this school because Lady Meredith's two daughters had gone there, and Captain Crewe trusted Lady Meredith's judgment. Sara would be what was called a "parlor boarder" — someone who lived at the school but got extra-special treatment. She would have her own pretty bedroom and sitting room. She would have a pony, a small carriage, and a maid to take the place of the ayah who had cared for her in India.

"I'm not at all worried about her studies," Captain Crewe said with his cheerful laugh, holding Sara's hand and patting it. "The real problem will be stopping her from learning too much, too fast! Her little nose is always buried in a book. She doesn't just read books, Miss Minchin — she gobbles them up like a hungry little wolf! She's always hungry for new books — and she wants big grown-up ones — thick books in French and German as well as English! History, biography, poetry — all sorts of things. You must pull her away from her books sometimes. Make her ride her pony, or take her out to buy a new doll. She really should play with dolls more."

"Papa," said Sara, "if I got a new doll every few days, I'd have too many to really love. Dolls should be close friends. Emily is going to be my close friend."

Captain Crewe looked at Miss Minchin, and Miss Minchin looked at Captain Crewe.

"Who is Emily?" she asked.

"Tell her, Sara," said Captain Crewe, smiling.

Sara's green-gray eyes looked very serious and soft as she answered.

"She's a doll I don't have yet," she said. "Papa is going to buy her for me. We're going out together to find her. I've already named her Emily. She is g—"