They had barely had time to take their pieces of cake into their hands--not one of them had time to do more,when--they all three sprang to their feet and turned pale faces toward the door--listening--listening.
Someone was coming up the stairs.There was no mistake about it.
Each of them recognized the angry,mounting tread and knew that the end of all things had come.
"It's--the missus!"choked Becky,and dropped her piece of cake upon the floor.
"Yes,"said Sara,her eyes growing shocked and large in her small white face."Miss Minchin has found us out."
Miss Minchin struck the door open with a blow of her hand.
She was pale herself,but it was with rage.She looked from the frightened faces to the banquet table,and from the banquet table to the last flicker of the burnt paper in the grate.
"I have been suspecting something of this sort,"she exclaimed;
"but I did not dream of such audacity.Lavinia was telling the truth."
So they knew that it was Lavinia who had somehow guessed their secret and had betrayed them.Miss Minchin strode over to Becky and boxed her ears for a second time.
"You impudent creature!"she said."You leave the house in the morning!"
Sara stood quite still,her eyes growing larger,her face paler.
Ermengarde burst into tears.
"Oh,don't send her away,"she sobbed."My aunt sent me the hamper.We're--only--having a party."
"So I see,"said Miss Minchin,witheringly."With the Princess Sara at the head of the table."She turned fiercely on Sara.
"It is your doing,I know,"she cried."Ermengarde would never have thought of such a thing.You decorated the table,I suppose--with this rubbish."She stamped her foot at Becky."Go to your attic!"
she commanded,and Becky stole away,her face hidden in her apron,her shoulders shaking.
Then it was Sara's turn again.
"I will attend to you tomorrow.You shall have neither breakfast,dinner,nor supper!"
"I have not had either dinner or supper today,Miss Minchin,"
said Sara,rather faintly.
"Then all the better.You will have something to remember.
Don't stand there.Put those things into the hamper again."
She began to sweep them off the table into the hamper herself,and caught sight of Ermengarde's new books.
"And you"--to Ermengarde--"have brought your beautiful new books into this dirty attic.Take them up and go back to bed.You will stay there all day tomorrow,and I shall write to your papa.
What would HE say if he knew where you are tonight?"
Something she saw in Sara's grave,fixed gaze at this moment made her turn on her fiercely.
"What are you thinking of?"she demanded."Why do you look at me like that?"
"I was wondering,"answered Sara,as she had answered that notable day in the schoolroom.
"What were you wondering?"
It was very like the scene in the schoolroom.There was no pertness in Sara's manner.It was only sad and quiet.
"I was wondering,"she said in a low voice,"what MY papa would say if he knew where I am tonight."
Miss Minchin was infuriated just as she had been before and her anger expressed itself,as before,in an intemperate fashion.
She flew at her and shook her.
"You insolent,unmanageable child!"she cried."How dare you!
How dare you!"
She picked up the books,swept the rest of the feast back into the hamper in a jumbled heap,thrust it into Ermengarde's arms,and pushed her before her toward the door.
"I will leave you to wonder,"she said."Go to bed this instant."
And she shut the door behind herself and poor stumbling Ermengarde,and left Sara standing quite alone.
The dream was quite at an end.The last spark had died out of the paper in the grate and left only black tinder;the table was left bare,the golden plates and richly embroidered napkins,and the garlands were transformed again into old handkerchiefs,scraps of red and white paper,and discarded artificial flowers all scattered on the floor;the minstrels in the minstrel gallery had stolen away,and the viols and bassoons were still.
Emily was sitting with her back against the wall,staring very hard.
Sara saw her,and went and picked her up with trembling hands.
"There isn't any banquet left,Emily,"she said."And there isn't any princess.There is nothing left but the prisoners in the Bastille."
And she sat down and hid her face.
What would have happened if she had not hidden it just then,and if she had chanced to look up at the skylight at the wrong moment,I do not know--perhaps the end of this chapter might have been quite different--because if she had glanced at the skylight she would certainly have been startled by what she would have seen.
She would have seen exactly the same face pressed against the glass and peering in at her as it had peered in earlier in the evening when she had been talking to Ermengarde.
But she did not look up.She sat with her little black head in her arms for some time.She always sat like that when she was trying to bear something in silence.Then she got up and went slowly to the bed.
"I can't pretend anything else--while I am awake,"she said.
"There wouldn't be any use in trying.If I go to sleep,perhaps a dream will come and pretend for me."
She suddenly felt so tired--perhaps through want of food--that she sat down on the edge of the bed quite weakly.
"Suppose there was a bright fire in the grate,with lots of little dancing flames,"she murmured."Suppose there was a comfortable chair before it--and suppose there was a small table near,with a little hot--hot supper on it.And suppose"--as she drew the thin coverings over her--"suppose this was a beautiful soft bed,with fleecy blankets and large downy pillows.Suppose--suppose--"
