Princess Sarah and Other Stories Read online

  Produced by Al Haines.

  Cover]

  "'Princess Sarah,' he shouted, 'Her Royal HighnessPrincess Sarah of Nowhere.'" (Page 41.)]

  PRINCESS SARAH

  AND OTHER STORIES

  BY

  JOHN STRANGE WINTER

  AUTHOR OF "BOOTLES' BABY" "MIGNON'S SECRET" "MY POOR DICK" "HE WENT FOR A SOLDIER" ETC ETC

  LONDON WARD, LOCK & CO LIMITED WARWICK HOUSE SALISBURY SQUARE E C NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE 1897

  Contents

  Princess Sarah

  CHAPTER I

  ORPHANED

  CHAPTER II

  HER NEW-FOUND AUNT

  CHAPTER III

  SARAH'S FUTURE IS ARRANGED

  CHAPTER IV

  HER NEW HOME

  CHAPTER V

  A TASTE OF THE FUTURE

  CHAPTER VI

  THE AMIABLE FLOSSIE

  CHAPTER VII

  COUSINLY AMENITIES

  CHAPTER VIII

  FLOSSIE'S GRIEVANCES

  CHAPTER IX

  AN ASTUTE TELL-PIE

  CHAPTER X

  A PLEASANT RAILWAY JOURNEY

  CHAPTER XI

  AUNT GEORGE

  CHAPTER XII

  SARAH MAKES AN IMPRESSION

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE TURNING POINT OF HER LIFE

  CHAPTER XIV

  A BRILLIANT MARRIAGE

  CHAPTER XV

  A FAMILY CATASTROPHE

  CHAPTER XVI

  A CHANGE OF CIRCUMSTANCES

  CHAPTER XVII

  SARAH'S OPPORTUNITY

  MISS MIGNON

  BOY'S LOVE

  YUM-YUM: A PUG

  OUR ADA ELIZABETH

  HALT!

  THE LITTLE LADY WITH THE VOICE

  JEWELS TO WEAR

  Princess Sarah

  "Take this lesson to thy heart; That is best which lieth nearest." --Gasper Bacerra

  CHAPTER I

  ORPHANED

  In a poor little street in a crowded city there stood a small house, notalone, but in the middle of a row of other houses exactly like it.There was a tiny bow window on the left of the door, and two very smallsash windows in the storey above; the frames were warped, and the paint,like that of the door, was blistered and cracked in many places. Andthe doorstep looked as if it had been cleaned a week or so before withwhiting instead of pipe-clay, and evidently the person who had done ithad, doubtless with the very best intentions in the world, given thelower part of the door a few daubs with the same cloth, which had not atall improved its shabby surface.

  Between the house and the pavement there was a small garden, a veryhumble attempt at a garden, with a rockery in one corner and a raisedbed in the middle.

  It was a noisy street, though it was not a thoroughfare, for on thathot, sultry day the doors and windows were all open and the childrenwere all playing about pavements and road, caring little for the heatand dust, screaming, laughing, shouting, crying, as children will,except when they found themselves within reach of the house which I havedescribed; then their voices were hushed, their tones sobered; then theystood to gaze up at the closed blinds which beat now and then againstthe open windows, as if a door had been opened and allowed a draught ofair to sweep through the house; then one little maid of ten years old orso lifted a warning finger to check a lesser child, upon whom the fearand knowledge of death had not yet fallen. "Hush--sh! Don't make anoise, Annie," she said. "Mr. Gray is dead."

  The younger child, Annie, ceased her laughter, turning from the closedhouse to stare at two ladies who came slowly down the street, lookingfrom side to side as if they sought one of the houses in particular.

  "This must be it," said one, as her eyes fell upon the closed blinds.

  "Yes," returned the other; "that must be it."

  So they passed in at the little gate and knocked softly at the shabbydoor.

  "Poor fellow!" said one, with a glance at the bit of garden before thebow window, "_his_ doing, evidently; there's not another garden in thestreet like it."

  "No. And what pains he must have taken with it. Poor fellow!" echoedthe other.

  There was a moment's scuffle within the house, the sound ofloudly-whispering voices; then a heavy footstep, and the door was openedby a stout, elderly person in a shabby black gown and white apron--aperson who was unmistakably a nurse. She curtsied as she saw the ladies,and the one who had spoken last addressed her.

  "We heard early this morning. I see the sad news is too true," shebegan.

  "Yes'm," shaking her head. "He went off quite quiet about ten o'clocklast night. Ah, I've seen a-many, but I never saw a more peacefulend--never!"

  The two ladies each made a murmur of sympathy.

  "And the little girl?" said one of them.

  "Well, mum, she do fret a good bit," replied the nurse pityingly.

  "Poor little thing! We have brought some fruit and some other littlethings," said the lady, handing a basket to the nurse.

  "It's real kind of you, mum!" the old woman cried. "She'll be rare andpleased, she will, poor little missy! You see, mum, it's been a queer,strange life for a child, for she's been everything to him, and shenever could go out and play in the street with the other children. Thatcouldn't be, and it was hard for the little thing to see 'em and be shutoff from 'em all day as she was; and the master on that account used tomake hisself more to her, which will make it all the harder for her now,poor fatherless, motherless lamb that she is!"

  "Of course, of course. Poor little maid! And what will become of her,do you think?"

  "I can't say for certain, mum; but the mistress, she had relations, andthe master wrote to one of them on Thursday. He was sore troubled aboutlittle missy, was the master--aye, sore troubled. The letter was sent,and an answer came this morning to say that one of missy's aunts wascoming to-day. The vicar opened it."

  "Oh, well, I'm glad somebody is coming to the poor child," said the ladywho had brought the basket of fruit. "I hope it will be all right. Andyou will give her the things, nurse?" with a look at the basket.

  "Oh, yes, mum," with a curtsey.

  There was not only some fruit in the basket, but a pot of jam and a jarof potted meat, a glass of jelly, some sponge cakes, and a packet ofsweeties, such as little folk love.

  The old nurse carried them into the sitting-room and set them down onthe table before a little girl who was sitting beside it.

  "See, missy, what a nice basket of good things Mrs. Tracy has broughtfor you!" the old woman cried. "Wasn't it kind of her?"

  "Very kind," said the little girl, brightening up somewhat at theunexpected kindness from one almost a stranger to her.

  "Grapes, Miss Sarah, and peaches, and Orleans plums; and see--pottedmeat! Now how could she know you're so fond of potted meat?"

  "I don't know, nurse; _he_ liked potted meat too, you know."

  "Yes, dear, yes; but he's gone where he has all he's most fond of, youknow."

  "Except me," murmured Sarah, under her breath.

  "Ah, that's true, my lamb; but you mustn't repine. Him as took themaster away so calm and peaceful last night knew just what was best todo, and He'll do it, never fear! It's hard to bear, my honey, andsure," with a sigh, "no one knows better what bearing such is than oldnurse. And--hark! to think of any one coming with a knock like that!enough to waken the----" But then she broke off short, and went to openthe door.