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Hello and welcome to the Storytime for Grown Ups Christmas Spectacular. I'm Faith Moore and for the months of November and December, we'll be reading A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Each episode I'll read one chapter from the book, pausing from time to time to give brief explanations so it's easier to follow along. It's like an audiobook with built in notes. So gather your family together, brew a pot of tea or a mug of hot chocolate, find a cozy chair and settle in. It's story time. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Hi everyone. Welcome back. It's December. We made it. Santa Claus has in fact reached Herald Square in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and therefore it is officially the Christmas season. So we made it, you guys. We made it through our sneaky, surreptitious Christmas November and into a full blown joyful out there in the open Christmas in December. I hope you had a wonderful, wonderful Thanksgiving giving. I hope you were able to join us for our live stream, our family livestream that we had on Friday. Thank you. For those of you who did, if you didn't catch it and you'd like to, it's still there. You can still hang out with us. I mean, we won't really be hanging out in real time, but you can watch it. The link is there in the show notes and I hope that you were able to see some family, see some friends, or at least check in with your story time family and friends by listening. And I am so glad to have you here on the other side of Thanksgiving where it is all Christmas, all the time, until December 25th. Speaking of December, I wanted to let you know what is going on for the rest of the Christmas Spectacular in the sense of when will this end? What will happen next? When will we find out what the next book is going to be? Because now we're more than halfway through our Victorian Christmas. We're more than halfway through A Little Princess. And so you might be wondering what will happen when we finish it. And that makes sense. Sense to be wondering. It's what I would be wondering too. So here is a little bit of a preview of what is coming. So the trailer for the January book. So the next book we read will begin in January. At the beginning of January. That trailer is going to drop on December 12th. That's a Friday. So if you're subscribed, that'll drop right into your podcast feed and it will probably alert you that it's there. If you're not subscribed Then you'll have to go looking for it. It's a good reason to subscribe. So just hit that subscribe button and then the trailer will drop right into your feed on December 12th and that will reveal to you what book we'll be reading for the winter and spring. So what's going to happen is this book, we're going to finish it on December 22nd. That's the Monday right before Christmas. That will be our conclusion episode. So the last chapter will be read on December 18th. So we'll finish the book on December 18th. Then on the 22nd we'll have our wrap up episode, which we do every time we finish a book where we just kind of finish up all of the conversation that we've been having about the book. We sort of try to tie up all the loose ends and tie up all the thematic elements that we've been discussing. And that will happen on the 22nd and then we'll have a short break of about two weeks while we have Christmas and then New Year's and we will come back on January 5th, that's a Monday with our introduction episode to our new book. And then we will go on and on as we normally do with Mondays and Thursdays for the book and that will take us up to the summertime. Then we'll have another summer session as we always do. So on December 12th you'll find out what that book is and then you will tune in on January 5th to begin that book with us. And you will hopefully stay tuned for A little princess through December 22nd and we will take a quick break in there for Christmas and New Year. So that is what is coming up for us in terms of our book selection. So I hope that you'll check out that trailer on the 12th and then write in and tell me what you think of our next choice. I'm really excited about it. I'm already starting to prep for it and I can't wait to share this new book with you. So hopefully you will be as excited as I am. The other thing I wanted to announce is I have a new prize to announce. So last time I announced the winner of the Storytime for Grown Ups mug. But we are still giving things away here on Storytime for Grown Ups. And so the next prize is going to be a membership at the Landed Gentry membership level in the drawing room. So that's our online community. We already give away a House Guest membership. Now I'm giving away a Landed Gentry membership and that one in addition to just giving you access to the drawing room community and allowing you to sort of talk to all of the people that are already there about the various books that we've read. You will also be eligible to talk to me and to the rest of the drawing room community in our monthly Tea Times. That's the voice chats that we have once a month. And in fact, one of those voice chats is coming up tomorrow, December 2nd at 8pm Eastern over in the Drawing room. So you won't be able to win this prize by then, but you will certainly be able to join us for January's tea time if you win the Landed Gentry membership. So to win these prizes, you have to buy a copy of my novel Christmas Carol. There's a link in the Show Notes to the Amazon page and you can pick up a copy there. And then you follow the directions that are also in the show notes. So there's a link in the Show Notes. It's clearly labeled. It takes you to the Storytime for Grown Ups website, and on that website are the directions for how to enter the drawing. You can also request a signed book plate. If you buy a copy of my book and you go to the same page, the directions are also there. That's not a drawing. I will just give it to you. Buy a book, get a book plate. But you do have to let me know that you want one. So follow the directions there. Again, there's a link in the show notes to buy the book and in the show notes to get to the directions. But by the way, if you want both, if you want to be entered into the drawing and you want a signed book plate, you only need to send one email. You don't need to send one email about the drawing and one email about the book plate. It's the same email. So you can follow the directions in one email instead of two if you like. So that is how you do that. And again, the prize right now is a Landed Gentry membership in our online community. The drawing room. There will be one more prize. So this will be the prize for the next two weeks or so. Then there will be one more prize before the end of this book and that will be sort of the grand prize. So anytime you buy a book, you're entered into all the drawings. So if you have already entered and not won, you could win again. Or, you know, you could win one of these new prizes. So hang in there and listen for your name and I will announce the winner in a couple of weeks. Okay, let's get into this episode. Remember, if you have not already tapped the five stars, but you are enjoying this show. Please take a minute to do that. It literally takes half a second. Just tap the fifth star in that line of stars and you will have given this show a five star rating. And if you have a couple of extra seconds, please leave a positive review. I like to read them so you'll be making me happy. But also it helps more people to find the show through some sort of magical algorithm that I don't understand. But it really does work because people say they're finding the show on their podcast players. It's just popping up like magic. And that's because you guys are rating the show and reviewing it. So thank you to those of you who've done that already. And if you haven't done that already and you are enjoying the show, I hope you'll consider doing that. If you are not enjoying the show, then don't untap anything. Just, I don't know, keep listening for some reason, even though you don't like it. But hopefully you are enjoying the show and I'm certainly enjoying talking to you this way. So last time we read chapter nine of A Little Princess, and today we're going to be reading chapter 10. So first, let's just remind ourselves of what we read last time. Here is the recap. All right. So we had been told that there were three people who kept Sarah going. One was Becky, one was Ermengarde. And this time we learned that the 3 3rd was Lottie. Lottie's too little and too spoiled to really understand what has happened to Sara. And she's very upset that Sara isn't acting like her adoptive mother anymore. So one day she goes up all the stairs and she finds Sara in her attic room. So to keep her quiet and calm, Sara tells her how lovely the attic is and shows her that they can look out the window and feed the birds. And she describes how nice the room could look if it had different furniture and decorations. But when Lottie leaves, Sara remembers that it's really just a garret. And she's sad again. But she is distracted by a rat who comes out of the wall to get some of the crumbs that Lotte has left behind. Sara decides to befriend the rat, and she names him Melchizedek. And a week later, when Ermengarde comes to visit, Sara is talking to the rat, and the rat comes when she calls him. Sara has also developed an elaborate system of knocking with Becky so that they can talk to each other through the walls and pretend that they are prisoners in the Bastille. Okay, I'm gonna read 3 comments today. The first one comes from Patty Schultz. Patty writes, sara really is like Cinderella. Like the location of her room, and she's making new friends with the rats. The second one comes from Lania Berger. I hope I'm saying that right. I've been emailing back and forth with you for a while, and I don't know how to pronounce your name, but I hope I said it right. Anyway, Lania says the adorable mice in Cinderella have new meaning to me. When Sara is in the garret, frightened by the sounds of the scurrying mice, all I could picture were cute little Jacques and Gus Gus. They are such beloved little friends to Cinderella. But I never thought about what a regular part of life mice would be in the old houses of previous centuries and how comforting it would be to imagine them as sweet and silly little friends. And the last one comes from John. John says Sara's fairy tale princess qualities are on full display in this chapter. Instead of telling Lottie to stop whining and go back downstairs, which is what I would have done, she somehow finds beauty in her awful room for Lottie's sake. This seems very princess y to me. Okay, so, yes, the fairy tale princess comparisons are coming, like, fast and furious now. Right? Sara is becoming more and more our Cinderella. And Patty and Lania are right to make the connection between animals and. And Cinderella. So over the summer, we talked about how one of the ways you can tell that a character in a fairy tale is a good guy, or more specifically, that they are a princess character, is that animals aren't afraid of them and they don't harm them. Okay, so we saw that in a lot of fairy tales this summer, but Cinderella was one of them. And just like in the Disney movie, Cinderella, in most of the more famous versions has animal friends. It's usually birds, but she has these animal friends who help her with her work. And in the Brothers Grimm version, they help the prince to realize when he's got the wrong bride, which in turn, of course, helps Cinderella. So animal friends are a big part of being a fairy tale princess. And Sarah is making some here. Right. First, the birds that she and Lottie feed on the rooftop, and then the rat who comes out of the wall for Lottie's leftover crumbs. Right. The mouse that she names Melchizedek Deck. But I think Lania's comment is really important here, because animals and mice and rats especially, are actually kind of frightening. I mean, Ermengarde is really frightened, Right. People generally scream and run away from rats, particularly rats in your house. Right? People do have pet rats, but that's not exactly what we're dealing with here. I mean, if a rat, like, popped out of the wall as I was talking to you now, I would definitely scream and run away before I even knew what I was doing. So, like Lania is implying, this is another inst of Sara's ability to pretend and to see the world as somehow more than what it is. It's another instance of that ability causing real change in the world. Right. Before, it was Sara's pretend of being a princess causing real change in Becky's life. And now it's Sara's pretend that these animals can, like, feel and empathize with her and be friendly toward her that is growing Sara's world and her sense of community and companionship. Listen to how Sara describes Melchizedek. She says he looked so queer and so like a gray whiskered dwarf or gnome that Sara was rather fascinated, right? So Sara immediately personifies this rat and thinks of him as a sort of fairy tale character. And in doing that, she's able to see him not as a horrible, like, mangy creature who might want to bite her or bring her germs or something, but as a friend. And it's another instance of what we were talking about last time, of the lowest of the low becoming the ones who matter. A rat is about as low as you can get. And yet here he is bringing Sara joy and companionship and helping her to feel a little less alone. But I think John's point is really astute as well, because John's right. Lottie is being really spoiled and annoying and like, hasn't Sara had it bad enough? Does she really need to be catering to this whiny little girl and making her life better? I mean, Lottie's life is just fine. It's Sara we're worried about. But I think it's worth noting what Lottie does for Sara here. Because without Lottie to have to console, right, Sara would never have these moments with Lottie where she suddenly sees her attic in a new light. It's like needing to convince Lottie that her attic is actually nice. Gives Sara a picture of it that is nicer than she thought. Here is what she tells Lottie. She says, chimneys quite close to us with smoke curling up in wreaths and clouds and going up into the sky and sparrows hopping about and talking to each other just as if they were people. And other attic windows where heads may pop out any minute and you can wonder who they belong to. And it all feels as high up as if it was another world. Okay. And then when they come back into the room, Sara is able to paint this really beautiful picture of what the attic could be if it wasn't just a totally bare room. Here's what she There could be a thick, soft blue Indian rug on the floor. And in that corner there could be a soft little sofa with cushions to curl up on. And just over it could be a shelf full of books so that one could reach them easily. And there could be a fur rug before the fire and hangings on the wall to cover up the whitewash. And pictures. They would have to be little ones, but they could be beautiful. And there could be a lamp with a deep rose colored shade and a table in the middle with things to have tea with and a little fat copper kettle singing on the hob. And the bed could be quite different. It could be made soft and covered with a lovely silk coverlet. It could be beautiful. And perhaps we could coax the sparrows until we made such friends with them that they would come and peck at the window and ask to be let in. I mean, it's a really beautiful picture. And with Lottie to tell it to, it's almost like Sara can see it. It's almost like her pretend is coming true just for this moment. But of course, when Lottie is gone, it all disappears and it to the bare attic room that it was before. And it says the enchantment of her imaginings for Lottie had died away. Okay, and here's one more quote. It says the floor was cold and bare, the grate was broken and rusty and the battered footstool tilted sideways on its injured leg. The only seat in the room. She sat down on it for a few minutes and let her head drop in her hands. So there is this magic to Sara's pretense somehow when she has someone to conjure this beautiful room for. Sara can see it too, but it's connected to other people. Part of her connection with Lottie and with Ermengarde and with Becky. Without these people around her, it's like Sara's pretends don't work and she's back in this cold, bare attic and she despairs. But with her friends around her, she's able to see the things that she pretends are real. Just the way she's making her friends see them. So it's another example of Sara's pretends being somehow more than just pretend. It's another example of her pretending, being both pretend but also real in a way. And there's a way in which these pretends and her ability to pretend is what's keeping her going. Okay, here is what we're told. She says, I can't help making up things. If I didn't, I don't believe I could live. And it says. She paused and glanced around the attic. I'm sure I couldn't live here, she added in a low voice. Okay, so the fairy tale princessness of Sara has now extended to befriending animals, thinking of other people above herself. Right? In the sense that she tried to console Lottie even though she was tired and sad herself, and to making the world a better place via a kind of magic or a kind of imagination that makes things better for herself and for the people around her. So Sara's life is simultaneously becoming worse and worse in the literal sense of things. Right? She's getting thinner and thinner. Her clothes are getting shabbier. She's being worked harder and harder. So her literal life is getting worse and worse. But her father fairy tale life is actually getting better. She's making friends with people and animals. She's pretending about the Bastille and about her room being beautiful. And she's believing in those pretends, at least for a little while at a time. And her inner life and her inner world are getting better and fuller. So we're continuing to come up against the literal world of Sara's existence and the fairy tale world that's going on inside her head, but also somehow in the world around her too. Okay, so. So let's see what's going to happen next. Let's get back to the book. But of course, don't forget to write to me. It's faithkmore.com and then you click on Contact. Or you can scroll into the show notes and click on the Contact link that's there. Kids, I hope you'll write in too. Just let me know you're a kid and how old you are. And of course grownups. You should also write in. I would love to hear all your comments and questions and also just scroll into the show notes and take a look at the various links. You can re watch the live stream or if you missed it, you can watch it there. It's still available as a recording and you can buy my book and you can find out how to get your book plates and enter the drawings and join tea time and all of those things. So check out those links and I hope you will join us for all those many things. All right, let's get started with chapter 10 of A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It's story, Chapter 10, the Indian gentleman. But it was a perilous thing for Ermengarde and Lottie to make pilgrimages to the attic. They could never be quite sure when sorrow would be there, and they could scarcely ever be certain that Ms. Amelia would not make a tour of inspection through the bedrooms after the pupils were supposed to be asleep, so their visits were rare ones. And Sara lived a strange and lonely life. It was a lonelier life when she was downstairs than when she was in her attic. She had no one to talk to. And when she was sent out on errands and walked through the streets, a forlorn little figure carrying a basket or a parcel, trying to hold her hat on when the wind was blowing and feeling the water soak through her shoes when it was raining, she felt as if the crowds hurrying past her made her loneliness greater. When she had been the Princess Sara driving through the streets in her brougham. Brougham is a kind of carriage or walking attended by Mariette. The sight of her bright, eager little face and picturesque coats and hats had often caused people to look after her. A happy, beautifully cared for little girl naturally attracts attention. Shabby, poorly dressed children are not rare enough and pretty enough to make people turn around to look at them and smile. No one looked at Sarah in these days, and no one seemed to see her as she hurried along the crowded pavements. She had begun to grow very fast, and as she was dressed only in such clothes as the plainer remnants of her wardrobe would supply, she knew she looked very queer indeed. All her valuable garments had been disposed of, and such as had been left for her use she was expected to wear so long as she could put them on at all. Sometimes when she passed a shop window with a mirror in it, she almost laughed outright on catching a glimpse of herself, and sometimes her face went red and she bit her lip and turned away. In the evening, when she passed houses whose windows were lighted up, she used to look into the warm rooms and amuse herself by imagining things about the people she saw sitting before the fires or about the tables. It always interested her to catch glimpses of rooms before the shutters were closed. There were several families in the square in which Ms. Minchin lived, with which she had become quite familiar in a way of her own. The one she liked best she called the Large Family, she called it the Large family. Not because the members of it were big, for indeed most of them were little, but because there were so many of them. There were eight children in the large family and a stout, rosy mother and a stout, rosy father and a stout, rosy grandmother and any number of servants. The eight children were always either being taken out to walk or to ride in perambulators by comfortable nurses or they were going to drive with their mama or they were flying to the door in the evening to meet their papa and kiss him and dance around him and drag off his overcoat and look in the pockets for packages, or they were crowding about the nursery windows and looking out and pushing each other and laughing. In fact, they were always doing something enjoyable and suited to the taste of a large family. Sarah was quite fond of them and had given them names out of books, quite romantic names. She called them the Montmorency's when she did not call them the large family. The fat, fair baby with the lace cap was Ethelberta Beauchamp Montmorency. The next baby was Violet Colmondeley Montmorency. The little boy who could just stagger and who had such round legs was Sidney Cecil Vivian Montmorency. And then came Lillian, Evangeline, Maude Marion, Rosalind Gladys, Guy Clarence, Veronica Eustacia and Claude Harold Hector. One evening a very funny thing happened, though perhaps in one sense it was not a funny thing at all. Several of the Montmorencys were evidently going to a children's party and just as Sara was about to pass the door, they were crossing the pavement to get into the carriage which was waiting for them. Veronica Eustacia and Rosalind Gladys, in white lace frocks and lovely sashes, had just got in and Guy Clarence, aged five, was following them. He was such a pretty fellow and had such rosy cheeks and blue eyes and such a darling little round head covered with curls that Sarah forgot her basket and shabby cloak altogether. In fact, forgot everything but that. She wanted to look at him for a moment, so she paused and looked. It was Christmas time and the large family had been hearing many stories about children who were poor and had no mamas and papas to fill their stockings and take them to the pantomime children who were in fact cold and thinly clad and hungry. In the stories, kind people, sometimes little boys and girls with tender hearts, invariably saw the poor children and gave them money or rich gifts, gifts or took them home to beautiful dinners. Guy Clarence had been affected to tears that very afternoon by the reading of such a story and he had burned with a desire to find such a poor child and give her a certain sixpence he possessed and thus provide for her for life an entire sixpence, he was sure, would mean affluence forevermore. Obviously that's not true. A sixpence isn't very much money at all. As he crossed the strip of red carpet laid across the pavement from the door to the carriage, and he had this very sixpence in the pocket of his very short man o' war trousers. And just as Rosalind Gladys got into the vehicle and jumped on the seat in order to feel the cushions spring under her, he saw Sarah standing on the wet pavement in her shabby frock and hat with her old basket on her arm, looking at him hungrily. He thought that her eyes looked hungry because she had perhaps had nothing to eat for a long time. He did not know that they looked so because she was hungry for the warm, merry life his home held and his rosy face spoke of, and that she had a hungry wish to snatch him in her arms and kiss him. He only knew that she had big eyes and a thin face and thin legs and a common basket and poor clothes. So he put his hand in his pocket and found his sixpence and walked up to her benignly. Here, poor little girl, he said. Here is a sixpence. I will give it to you. Sarah started, and all at once realized that she looked exactly like poor children she had seen in her better days, waiting on the pavement to watch her as she got out of her brougham. And she had given them pennies many a time. Her face went red and then it went pale, and for a second she felt as if she could not take the dear little sixpence. Oh no, she said. Oh, no, thank you. I mustn't take it. Indeed, her voice was so unlike an ordinary street child's voice, and her manner was so like the manner of a well bred little person that Veronica Eustacia, whose real name was Janet, and Rosalind Gladys, who was really called Nora, leaned forward to listen. But Guy Clarence was not to be thwarted in his benevolence. He thrust the sixpence into her hand. Yes, you must take it, poor little girl, he insisted stoutly. You can buy things to eat with it. It's a whole sixpence. There was something so honest and kind in his face, and he looked so likely to be heartbrokenly disappointed if she did not take it, that Sara knew she must not refuse him. To be as proud as that would be a cruel thing. So she actually put her pride in her pocket, though it must be admitted her cheeks burned. Thank you, she said. You are a kind, kind little darling thing. And as he scrambled joyfully into the carriage, she went away trying to smile, though she caught her breath quickly, and her eyes were shining through a mist. She had known that she looked odd and shabby, but until now she had not known that she might be taken for a beggar. As the large family's carriage drove away, the children inside it were talking with interested excitement. Oh, Donald. This was Guy Clarence's name. Janet exclaimed alarmedly. Why did you offer that little girl your sixpence? I'm sure she is not a beggar. She didn't speak like a beggar. Cried Nora, and her face didn't really look like a beggar's face. Besides, she didn't beg, said Janet. I was so afraid she might be angry with you. You know it makes people angry to be taken for beggars when they are not beggars. She wasn't angry, said Donald, a trifle dismayed, but still firm. She laughed a little, and she said, I was a kind, kind little darling thing, and I was stoutly. It was my whole sixpence. Janet and Nora exchanged glances. A beggar girl would never have said that, decided Janet. She would have said, thank you kindly little gentleman, thank you, sir. And perhaps she would have bobbed a curtsy. Sara knew nothing about the fact, but from that time the large family was as profoundly interested in her as she was in it. Faces used to appear at the nursery windows when she passed, and many discussions concerning her were held round the fire. She is a kind of servant at the seminary, Janet said. I don't believe she belongs to anybody. I believe she is an orphan, but she is not a beggar, however shabby she looks. And afterward she was called by all of them the Little Girl who is Not a Beggar, which was of course rather a long name, and sounded very funny sometimes when the youngest one said it in a hurry. Sarah managed to bore a hole in the sixpence and hung it on an old bit of narrow ribbon round her neck. Her affection for the large family increased, as indeed her affection for everything she could love increased. She grew fonder and fonder of Becky, and she used to look forward to the two mornings a week when she went into the schoolroom to give the little ones their French lesson. Her small pupils loved her and strove with each other for the privilege of standing close to her and insinuating their small hands into hers. It fed her hungry heart to feel them nestling up to her. She made such friends with the sparrows that when she stood upon the table, put her head and shoulders out of the attic window and chirped, she heard almost immediately a flutter of wings and answering twitters, and a little flock of dingy town birds appeared and alighted on the slates to talk to her and make much of the crumbs she scattered with Melchizedek. She had become so intimate that he actually brought Mrs. Melchizedek with him sometimes, and now and then one or two of his children. She used to talk to him, and somehow he looked quite as if he understood. There had grown in her mind rather a strange feeling about Emily, who always sat and looked on at everything. It arose in one of her moments of great desolateness. She would have liked to believe or pretend to believe that Emily understood and sympathized with her. She did not like to own to herself that her only companion could feel and hear nothing. She used to put her in a chair sometimes and sit opposite to her on the old red footstool and stare and pretend about her until her own eyes would grow large with something which was almost like fear, particularly at night when everything was so still, when the only sound in the attic was the occasional sudden scurry and squeak of Melchisedec's family in the wall. One of her pretends was that Emily was a kind of good witch who could protect her. Sometimes, after she had stared at her until she was wrought up to the highest pitch of fancifulness, she would ask her questions and find herself almost feeling as if she would presently answer, but she never did. As to answering, though, said Sara, trying to console herself, I don't answer very often. I never answer when I can help it. When people are insulting you, there is nothing so good for them as not to say a word, just to look at them and think. Ms. Minchin turns pale with rage when I do it. Miss Amelia looks frightened, and so do the girls. When you will not fly into a passion, people know you are stronger than they are because you are strong enough to hold in your rage and they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said afterward. There's nothing so strong as rage except what makes you hold it in that's stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies. I scarcely ever do. Perhaps Emily is more like me than I am like myself. Perhaps she would rather not answer her friends, even she keeps it all in her heart. But though she tried to satisfy herself with these arguments. She did not find it easy when, after a long, hard day in which she had been sent here and there, sometimes on long errands, through wind and quiet, cold and rain, she came in wet and hungry and was sent out again because nobody chose to remember that she was only a child and that her slim legs might be tired and her small body might be chilled. When she had been given only harsh words and cold, slighting looks for thanks, when the cook had been vulgar and insolent, when Ms. Minchin had been in her worst mood, and when she had seen the girls sneering among themselves at her shabbiness, then she was not always able to comfort her sore, proud, desolate heart with fancies. When Emily merely sat upright in her old chair and stared. One of these nights, when she came up to the attic, cold and hungry, with a tempest raging in her young breast, Emily's stare seemed so vacant, her sawdust legs and arms so inexpressive, that Sarah lost all control over herself. Herself. There was nobody but Emily, no one in the world. And there she sat. I shall die presently, she said. At first Emily simply stared. I can't bear this, said the poor child, trembling. I know I shall die. I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm starving to death. I've walked a thousand miles today, and they have done nothing but screaming, scold me from morning until night, and because I could not find that last thing the cook sent me for, they would not give me my supper. Some men laughed at me because my old shoes made me slip down in the mud. I'm covered with mud now. And they laughed. Do you hear? She looked at the staring glass eyes and complacent face, and suddenly a sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of sobbing. Sarah, who never cried. You are nothing but a doll, she cried. Nothing but a doll. Doll, doll. You care for nothing. You are stuffed with sawdust. You never had a heart. Nothing could ever make you feel you are a doll. Amelie lay on the floor with her legs ignominiously doubled up over her head and a new flat place on the end of her nose. But she was calm, even dignified. Sara hid her face in her arms. The rats in the wall began to fight and bite each other and squeak and scramble. Melchizedek was chastising some of his family. Sara's sobs gradually quieted themselves. It was so unlike her to break down that she was surprised at herself. After a while she raised her face and looked at Emily, who seemed to be gazing at her around the side of one angle. And somehow by this time, actually with a kind of glassy eyed sympathy, Sara bent and picked her up. Remorse overtook her. She even smiled at herself a very little. You can't help being a doll, she said with a resigned sigh, any more than Lavinia and Jessie can help not having any sense. We are not all made alike. Perhaps you'd do your sawdust best. And she kissed her and shook her clothes straight and put her back upon her chair. She had wished very much that someone would take the empty house next door. She wished it because of the attic window which was so near hers it seemed as if it would be so nice to see it propped open someday and a head and shoulders rising out of the square aperture. If it looked like a nice head, she thought, I might begin by saying good morning and all sorts of things might happen, but of course it's not really likely that anyone but under servants would sleep there. One morning on turning the corner of the square after a visit to the grocer's, the butcher's, and the baker's, she saw to her great delight that during her rather prolonged absence a van full of furniture had stopped before the next house. The front doors were thrown open and men in shirt sleeves were going in and out carrying heavy packages and pieces of furniture. It's taken, she said. It really is taken. Oh, I do hope a nice head will look out of the attic window. She would almost have liked to join the group of loiterers who had stopped on the pavement to watch the things carried in. She had an idea that if she could see some of the furniture, she could guess something about the people it belonged to. Ms. Minchin's tables and chairs are just like her, she thought. I remember thinking that the first time I saw her, even though I was so little. I told Papa afterward, and he laughed and said it was true. I am sure the large family have fat comfortable armchairs and sofas, and I can see that their red flowery wallpaper is exactly like them. It's warm and cheerful and kind looking and happy. She was sent out for parsley to the greengrocers later in the day, and when she came up the area steps her heart gave quite a quick beat of recognition. Several pieces of furniture had been set out of the van upon the pavement. There was a beautiful table of elaborately wrought teak wood and some chairs and a screen covered with rich oriental embroidery. The sight of them gave Her a weird homesick feeling. She had seen things so like them in India. One of the things Ms. Minchin had taken from her was a carved teakwood desk her father had sent her. They are beautiful things, she said. They look as if they ought to belong to a nice person. All the things look rather grand. I suppose it is a rich family. The vans of furniture came and were unloaded and gave place to others all, all the day. Several times it so happened that Sarah had an opportunity of seeing things carried in. It became plain that she had been right in guessing that the newcomers were people of large means. All the furniture was rich and beautiful and a great deal of it was Oriental. Wonderful rugs and draperies and ornaments were taken from the vans. Many pictures and books enough for a library, among other things. There was a superb God Buddha in a splendid shrine. Someone in the family must have been in India, Sara thought. They have got used to Indian things and like them. I am glad. I shall feel as if they were friends, even if a head never looks out of the attic window. When she was taking in the evening's milk for the cook, there was really no odd job she was not called upon to do. She saw something occur which made the situation more interesting than ever. The handsome rosy man who was the father of the large family walked across the square in the most matter of fact manner and ran up the steps of the next door house. He ran up them as if he felt quite at home and expected to run up and down them many a time in the future. He stayed inside quite a long time and several times came out and gave directions to the workmen as if he had a right to do so. It was quite certain that he was in some intimate way connected with the newcomers and was acting for them. If the new people have children, Sara speculated, the large family children will be sure to come and play with them and they might come up into the attic just for fun. At night, after her work was done, Becky came in to see her fellow prisoner and bring her news. It's an Indian gentleman that's coming to live next door, Miss. Meaning it's an Indian gentleman who's moving in next door, she said. I. I don't know whether he's a black gentleman or not, but he's an Indian one. He's very rich and he's ill and the gentleman of the large family is his lawyer. He's had a lot of trouble and it's made him ill and low in his mind. He worships idols, Miss. He's an even and bows down to wood and stone. I seen a idol being carried in for him to worship. Somebody had oughter send him a track. You can get a track for a penny. So a tract means a religious tract about Christianity. So Becky's saying that the person moving in next door is a man from India who has been ill due to some troubles he's had. And Becky thinks he worships idols and should convert to Christianity. Sara laughed a little. I don't believe he worships that idol, she said. Some people like to keep them to look at because they're interesting. My papa had a beautiful one, and he did not worship it. But Becky was rather inclined to prefer to believe that the new neighbor was an eathen, meaning a heathen. It sounded so much more romantic than that. He should simply be the ordinary kind of gentleman who went to church with a prayer book. She sat and talked long that night of what he would be like, of what his wife would be like if he had one, and of what his children would be like if they had children. Sara saw that privately. She could not help hoping very much that they would all be black and would wear turbans, and above all that, like their parent, they would all be eathens. I never lived next door to no eathens, miss, she said. I should like to see what sort of ways they'd have. It was several weeks before her curiosity was satisfied. And then it was revealed that the new occupant had neither wife nor children. He was a solitary man with no family at all, and it was evident that he was shattered in health and unhappy in mind. A carriage drove up one day and stopped before the house. When the footman dismounted from the box and opened the door, the gentleman who was the father of the large family got out first. After him there descended a nurse in uniform. Then came down the steps two men, servants. They came to assist their master, who, when he was helped out of the carriage, proved to be a man with a haggard, distressed face and a skeleton body wrapped in furs. He was carried up the steps, and the head of the large family went with him, looking very anxious. Shortly afterward a doctor's carriage arrived, and the doctor went in plainly to take care of him. There was such a yellow gentleman next door. Sara, Lottie whispered at the French class afterward. Do you think he is Chinese? The geography says the Chinese men are yellow. No, he is not Chinese, Sarah whispered back. He is very ill. Go on with your exercise, Lottie. Non, monsieur, je ne pas le carniffe de Monongle. Okay. This means no sir, I don't have my uncle's pocket knife. So that's what Lottie is learning in French right now. That was the beginning of the story of the Indian Gentleman. Thank you so much for listening. Don't forget to check out my novel Christmas Carol. That's Carol with a K. Using the link in the Show Notes I would be so grateful if you would consider buying a copy or a few copies for yourself or as a gift. If you buy a copy of the book and email me a screenshot of your receipt, you'll be entered into a drawing to receive your choice of either your money back or an additional signed copy. The email to send the receipt to is in the Show Notes. If you buy multiple copies, you can enter the drawing multiple times. The winner will be notified by email. Also, everyone who buys a copy of the book is entitled to a free signed book plate which you can stick into the book to make it a signed copy. If you'd like one, just email the screenshot of your receipt to the email address listed in the Show Notes and let me know whom you'd like the book plate made out to and what address to mail it to. Thank you so much for supporting me and the work I do by buying my book this Christmas time. And of course, don't forget to get in touch with comments or questions about this episode. Please go to my website, faithkmore.com click on contact and send me your questions and thoughts. Or you can can click on the link in the Show Notes to contact me. I'll feature one or two of your entries at the start of the next episode. All right everyone, story time is over. To be continued.