5 Proud Soldiers Don’t Complain

CHAPTER 5 Proud Soldiers Don't Complain Sara's first night in the attic was the scariest of her life. The room itself was frightful enough, with its bare wood floor, its hard bed, and the wind howling overhead. But the toenail scratchings and shrill little squeaks coming from the walls were even scarier. She knew these were the rats. The most terrifying thing of all, however, was the idea that her papa could really be

dead: that she would never see him again, and that she was all alone in the world. No matter how many times she repeated it to herself, she still could not believe it. Miss Minchin, however, would be very helpful in convincing her. The next morning, Sara walked past the open door to what used to be her room. She caught a glimpse inside and saw that everything had been removed or changed. As if by some evil magician, any trace of the girl she used to be, and the life she used to lead when her papa was alive, had been erased— just like that. Miss Minchin must have taken all her finery to be sold to pay for her party, thought Sara. She didn't like thinking unkind thoughts about magic, or about grown-ups for that matter. Magic and pretend had always been her favorite things, her biggest source of strength, but now it seemed that no amount

of magic or make-believe could help her. "Your new life begins today," Miss Minchin informed her when she went downstairs. "You will work for me, in exchange for my kindness of not turning you out onto the street. You will begin by overseeing the younger girls, teaching them French and other subjects." That, Sara thought, would not be so bad. She loved spending time with the younger girls and teaching them things, and their warm affection for her also gave Sara joy. Little did she know, however, that it was only the beginning of her toil. Miss Minchin would also send Sara on errands, at any time of day or night, and in the worst weather. She would have Sara deliver grown-up messages to people in town and pay her bills. An errand boy would never have been so clever or reliable. Although Sara was a slight little girl, the cook often

sent her out to buy groceries. Sara carried them back through the streets with a heavy basket on her arm. Miss Minchin ordered Sara to do all of the hard, unpleasant tasks the other servants would not do. As for the other servants, the cook and the housemaids, although they, too, were servants, it was easy to boss around the youngest and newest among them. Sara used to put on what they considered fancy airs, and Miss Minchin seemed to dislike her as well, so they thought that such treatment was fitting. Sara tried to remain strong and not to complain. She hoped that they all would see that she was a hard worker and would soften and be kinder toward her over time. But she was wrong. The harder she tried to please them and do as she was told, the meaner and more demanding everyone became.

She grew sadder and lonelier as each day passed. The worst thing was going outside and seeing other people. When she had been Princess Sara, just the sight of her bright and eager face had caused people to smile, especially when she was back in India. But no one looked at her anymore. In fact, if they saw her by chance, they seemed to want to look away as quickly as possible. She must really have been a sight. Sometimes, when it was dark, she would stop in front of windows that were all lit up, and peer into the warm rooms filled with happy families. One family that seemed particularly happy lived in the same square as the school, two houses away. Sara called them the Large Family, not because the members of it were particularly large, but because there were so many of them—eight children in all. All eight of them, and their parents, too, seemed happy and fond of each

other and of the world. They were always telling jokes, giving each other little gifts, and going on outings together. The house right next door to the school had stood empty for a while. But soon those windows would be lit up as well. One day, when returning from her errands, she saw to her great delight a van parked in front of the house next door. She had an idea that, if she could see some of the furniture, she could guess something about the new neighbors. The furniture that was being delivered to this house looked familiar to Sara. It was teakwood, and other pieces covered with rich Oriental embroidery. Why, she had seen things just like these in India! She wondered if the single man, her new next-door neighbor, was from India as well. When she looked inside, she saw not a large happy family, but one lonely man. He was the Little Family, Sara thought to herself, for no