"At first I was a pupil, and a parlor-boarder; but now—"
"You were a pupil! What are you now? "
The queer little sad smile was on Sara's lips again.
"I sleep in the attic, next to the scullery-maid," she said. "I run errands for the cook—I do anything she tells me; and I teach the little ones their lessons."
"Question her, Carmichael," said Mr. Carrisford, sinking back as if he had lost his strength. "Question her; I cannot."
The big, kind father of the Large Family knew how to question little girls. Sara realized how much practice he had had when he spoke to her in his nice, encouraging voice.
"What do you mean by 'At first,' my child?" he inquired.
"When I was first taken there by my papa."
"Where is your papa?"
"He died," said Sara, very quietly. "He lost all his money and there was none left for me. There was no one to take care of me or to pay Miss Minchin."
"Carmichael!" the Indian gentleman cried out loudly; "Carmichael!"
"We must not frighten her," Mr. Carmichael said aside to him in a quick, low voice; and he added aloud to Sara: "So you were sent up into the attic, and made into a little drudge. That was about it, was n't it? "
"There was no one to take care of me," said Sara. "There was no money; I belong to nobody."
