4 The Change

CHAPTER 4 The Change Mr. Barrow," Miss Minchin exclaimed as she swept graciously into her office. "I am so delighted to see you again!" But when Mr. Barrow stood up to greet her, he did not look happy. "Miss Minchin," he told her, looking grave, "perhaps you should sit down." Miss Minchin went stiff. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "That," Mr. Barrow said, sitting down, "is

putting it rather mildly." Mr. Barrow then revealed what he had come to tell her: how the diamond mines had failed, and about the late Captain Crewe. "Excuse me," Miss Minchin gasped. "The late Captain Crewe?" "He's dead, ma'am," Mr. Barrow confirmed. "He died of jungle fever and bad business. But that's not the half of it." "There's more?" Miss Minchin asked. "Captain Crewe died without a cent, quite out of his mind, raving about his little girl." Miss Minchin could hardly breathe—not from pity, mind you, but out of anger. She felt that, somehow, she had been cheated out of what was rightfully hers. Cheated by the late Captain Crewe, by Barrow and Skipworth, even by Sara. She spoke slowly. "Are you telling me... that he left the child nothing? That he left

me nothing? That Sara is in there right now, having a grand party at my expense, for which I shall never see one penny?" "Yes, I'm afraid the child is a beggar." Mr. Barrow did not mince words. "But before you think of turning her out into the street, think about how that would look for your school. And by the way," he added dryly, "Barrow and Skipworth is not responsible for her— you are." Miss Minchin could not believe her ears. But her mind was indeed working at top speed. She was nothing if not a shrewd businesswoman and knew just what Mr. Barrow meant. After a long silence, she spoke. "Yes—better to keep her," she agreed, "and to make use of her." Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "I can assure you, sir, that I will make good use of her!" Their conversation was cut short by the

sound of singing. It was the students, Miss Minchin thought foggily. They had started without her. She ran back down the hall. "Stop your singing this minute!" she screamed with fury. She threw open the door and rushed into the room. "Everybody quiet!" The startled girls stopped in midchorus. "Sara Crewe!" Miss Minchin ordered. "Come here this instant!" The crowd parted, and Sara walked quietly to the front of the room. "Yes, Miss Minchin," she replied. "Do you have a black frock in your grand princess wardrobe?" Miss Minchin asked in a mocking tone. "Why, I'm sure that Sara has a frock in every color," Lavinia said under her breath. "A black frock?" Miss Amelia repeated. "Sister, what are you talking about?" "I have an old black velvet dress," Sara said

timidly, "but I have outgrown it. It is too short." "That is too bad," Miss Minchin said. "Go take off that ridiculous pink thing and put the black one on. You are done with finery!" In shock, the other girls became speechless. "Sister, what has happened?" Miss Amelia cried. Miss Minchin did not mince words. "Captain Crewe is dead," she said. "He died penniless, leaving this spoiled little princess on my hands." The girls let out a gasp. Miss Amelia fell heavily into the nearest chair. Becky, still standing at the party's edges, started to cry. But Sara was another story: she actually made no fuss at all. Although her eyes got quite big and she turned pale, she stood very still and looked at Miss Minchin without saying a word, before turning and walking silently out of the room.

Looking around at what was left of the lavish party, Miss Minchin was enraged. "Girls!" she ordered. "Put down your cake and go back to your rooms right now!" She turned to face Becky, whose face was streaming with tears. "And you," she said, "stop your wailing and clean up this mess. This party is over!" Upstairs, a trembling Mariette was helping Sara to change into the old black dress Miss Minchin had ordered her to put on. Mariette had also grown very fond of Sara, and feared it would be the last thing she was allowed to do for the girl. Sara hardly seemed to notice Mariette. "My papa is dead," she kept saying quietly to herself alone. "My papa is dead." Emily, too, had been draped in a piece of black cloth. Mariette had thought it fitting. "Oh, Emily!" Sara cried. "Do you hear?