against the wall.
When Sara went into her sitting room in the morning, she found on the table a small, dumpy package, tied up in a piece of brown paper. She knew it was a present, and she thought she could guess whom it came from. She opened it quite tenderly. It was a square pincushion, made of not quite clean red flannel, and black pins had been stuck carefully into it to form the words, “Menny hapy returns.[142]”
“Oh!” cried Sara, with a warm feeling in her heart. “What pains she has taken! I like it so, it – it makes me feel sorrowful.”
But the next moment she was mystified. On the under side of the pincushion was secured a card, bearing in neat letters the name “Miss Amelia Minchin.”
Sara turned it over and over.
“Miss Amelia!” she said to herself. “How CAN it be!”
And just at that very moment she heard the door being cautiously pushed open and saw Becky peeping round it.
There was an affectionate, happy grin on her face, and she shufled forward and stood nervously pulling at her fingers.
“Do yer like it, Miss Sara?” she said. “Do yer?”
“Like it?” cried Sara. “You darling Becky, you made it all yourself.”
Becky gave a hysteric but joyful sniff, and her eyes looked quite moist with delight.
“It ain’t nothin’ but flannin, an’ the flannin ain’t new; but I wanted to give yer somethin’ an’ I made it of nights. I knew yer could PRETEND it was satin with diamond pins in. I tried to when I was makin’ it. The card, miss,” rather doubtfully; “’t warn’t wrong[143] of me to pick it up out o’ the dust-bin, was it? Miss ‘meliar had throwed it away. I hadn’t no card o’ my own, an’ I knowed it wouldn’t be a proper presink[144] if I didn’t pin a card on – so I pinned Miss ’meliar’s[145].”
Sara flew at her and hugged her. She could not have told herself or anyone else why there was a lump in her throat.
“Oh, Becky!” she cried out, with a queer little laugh, “I love you, Becky – I do, I do!”
“Oh, miss!” breathed Becky. “Thank yer, miss, kindly; it ain’t good enough for that. The – the flannin wasn’t new.”
7
The Diamond Mines Again
When Sara entered the holly-hung schoolroom in the afternoon, she did so as the head of a sort of procession. Miss Minchin, in her grandest silk dress, led her by the hand. A manservant followed, carrying the box containing the Last Doll, a housemaid carried a second box, and Becky brought up the rear, carrying a third and wearing a clean apron and a new cap. Sara would have much preferred to enter in the usual way, but Miss Minchin had sent for her, and, after an interview in her private sitting room, had expressed her wishes.
“This is not an ordinary occasion,” she said. “I do not desire that it should be treated as one.”
So Sara was led grandly in and felt shy when, on her entry, the big girls stared at her and touched each other’s elbows, and the little ones began to squirm joyously in their seats.
“Silence, young ladies!” said Miss Minchin, at the murmur which arose. “James, place the box on the table and remove the lid. Emma, put yours upon a chair. Becky!” suddenly and severely.
Becky had quite forgotten herself in her excitement, and was grinning at Lottie, who was wriggling with rapturous expectation. She almost dropped her box, the disapproving voice so startled her, and her frightened, bobbing curtsy of apology was so funny that Lavinia and Jessie tittered.
“It is not your place to look at the young ladies,” said Miss Minchin. “You forget yourself. Put your box down.”
Becky obeyed with alarmed haste and hastily backed toward the door.
“You may leave us,” Miss Minchin announced to the servants with a wave of her hand.
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