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Sara
looked
at
her
still
more
steadily
,
but
with
a
sort
of
understanding
in
her
eyes
.
"
Neither
have
I
,
"
she
said
.
This
was
so
unexpected
that
it
was
astounding
.
Lottie
actually
dropped
her
legs
,
gave
a
wriggle
,
and
lay
and
stared
.
A
new
idea
will
stop
a
crying
child
when
nothing
else
will
.
Also
it
was
true
that
while
Lottie
disliked
Miss
Minchin
,
who
was
cross
,
and
Miss
Amelia
,
who
was
foolishly
indulgent
,
she
rather
liked
Sara
,
little
as
she
knew
her
.
She
did
not
want
to
give
up
her
grievance
,
but
her
thoughts
were
distracted
from
it
,
so
she
wriggled
again
,
and
,
after
a
sulky
sob
,
said
,
"
Where
is
she
?
"
Sara
paused
a
moment
.
Because
she
had
been
told
that
her
mamma
was
in
heaven
,
she
had
thought
a
great
deal
about
the
matter
,
and
her
thoughts
had
not
been
quite
like
those
of
other
people
.
"
She
went
to
heaven
,
"
she
said
.
"
But
I
am
sure
she
comes
out
sometimes
to
see
me
--
though
I
do
n't
see
her
.
So
does
yours
.
Perhaps
they
can
both
see
us
now
.
Perhaps
they
are
both
in
this
room
.
"
Lottie
sat
bolt
upright
,
and
looked
about
her
.
She
was
a
pretty
,
little
,
curly-headed
creature
,
and
her
round
eyes
were
like
wet
forget-me-nots
.
If
her
mamma
had
seen
her
during
the
last
half-hour
,
she
might
not
have
thought
her
the
kind
of
child
who
ought
to
be
related
to
an
angel
.
Sara
went
on
talking
.
Perhaps
some
people
might
think
that
what
she
said
was
rather
like
a
fairy
story
,
but
it
was
all
so
real
to
her
own
imagination
that
Lottie
began
to
listen
in
spite
of
herself
.
She
had
been
told
that
her
mamma
had
wings
and
a
crown
,
and
she
had
been
shown
pictures
of
ladies
in
beautiful
white
nightgowns
,
who
were
said
to
be
angels
.
But
Sara
seemed
to
be
telling
a
real
story
about
a
lovely
country
where
real
people
were
.
"
There
are
fields
and
fields
of
flowers
,
"
she
said
,
forgetting
herself
,
as
usual
,
when
she
began
,
and
talking
rather
as
if
she
were
in
a
dream
,
"
fields
and
fields
of
lilies
--
and
when
the
soft
wind
blows
over
them
it
wafts
the
scent
of
them
into
the
air
--
and
everybody
always
breathes
it
,
because
the
soft
wind
is
always
blowing
.
And
little
children
run
about
in
the
lily
fields
and
gather
armfuls
of
them
,
and
laugh
and
make
little
wreaths
.
And
the
streets
are
shining
.
And
people
are
never
tired
,
however
far
they
walk
.
They
can
float
anywhere
they
like
.
And
there
are
walls
made
of
pearl
and
gold
all
round
the
city
,
but
they
are
low
enough
for
the
people
to
go
and
lean
on
them
,
and
look
down
onto
the
earth
and
smile
,
and
send
beautiful
messages
.
"
Whatsoever
story
she
had
begun
to
tell
,
Lottie
would
,
no
doubt
,
have
stopped
crying
,
and
been
fascinated
into
listening
;
but
there
was
no
denying
that
this
story
was
prettier
than
most
others
.
She
dragged
herself
close
to
Sara
,
and
drank
in
every
word
until
the
end
came
--
far
too
soon
.
When
it
did
come
,
she
was
so
sorry
that
she
put
up
her
lip
ominously
.
