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There
had
grown
in
her
mind
rather
a
strange
feeling
about
Emily
,
who
always
sat
and
looked
on
at
everything
.
It
arose
in
one
of
her
moments
of
great
desolateness
.
She
would
have
liked
to
believe
or
pretend
to
believe
that
Emily
understood
and
sympathized
with
her
.
She
did
not
like
to
own
to
herself
that
her
only
companion
could
feel
and
hear
nothing
.
She
used
to
put
her
in
a
chair
sometimes
and
sit
opposite
to
her
on
the
old
red
footstool
,
and
stare
and
pretend
about
her
until
her
own
eyes
would
grow
large
with
something
which
was
almost
like
fear
--
particularly
at
night
when
everything
was
so
still
,
when
the
only
sound
in
the
attic
was
the
occasional
sudden
scurry
and
squeak
of
Melchisedec
's
family
in
the
wall
.
One
of
her
"
pretends
"
was
that
Emily
was
a
kind
of
good
witch
who
could
protect
her
.
Sometimes
,
after
she
had
stared
at
her
until
she
was
wrought
up
to
the
highest
pitch
of
fancifulness
,
she
would
ask
her
questions
and
find
herself
ALMOST
feeling
as
if
she
would
presently
answer
.
But
she
never
did
.
"
As
to
answering
,
though
,
"
said
Sara
,
trying
to
console
herself
,
"
I
do
n't
answer
very
often
.
I
never
answer
when
I
can
help
it
.
When
people
are
insulting
you
,
there
is
nothing
so
good
for
them
as
not
to
say
a
word
--
just
to
look
at
them
and
THINK
.
Miss
Minchin
turns
pale
with
rage
when
I
do
it
,
Miss
Amelia
looks
frightened
,
and
so
do
the
girls
.
When
you
will
not
fly
into
a
passion
people
know
you
are
stronger
than
they
are
,
because
you
are
strong
enough
to
hold
in
your
rage
,
and
they
are
not
,
and
they
say
stupid
things
they
wish
they
had
n't
said
afterward
.
There
's
nothing
so
strong
as
rage
,
except
what
makes
you
hold
it
in
--
that
's
stronger
.
It
's
a
good
thing
not
to
answer
your
enemies
.
I
scarcely
ever
do
.
Perhaps
Emily
is
more
like
me
than
I
am
like
myself
.
Perhaps
she
would
rather
not
answer
her
friends
,
even
.
She
keeps
it
all
in
her
heart
.
"
But
though
she
tried
to
satisfy
herself
with
these
arguments
,
she
did
not
find
it
easy
.
When
,
after
a
long
,
hard
day
,
in
which
she
had
been
sent
here
and
there
,
sometimes
on
long
errands
through
wind
and
cold
and
rain
,
she
came
in
wet
and
hungry
,
and
was
sent
out
again
because
nobody
chose
to
remember
that
she
was
only
a
child
,
and
that
her
slim
legs
might
be
tired
and
her
small
body
might
be
chilled
;
when
she
had
been
given
only
harsh
words
and
cold
,
slighting
looks
for
thanks
;
when
the
cook
had
been
vulgar
and
insolent
;
when
Miss
Minchin
had
been
in
her
worst
mood
,
and
when
she
had
seen
the
girls
sneering
among
themselves
at
her
shabbiness
--
then
she
was
not
always
able
to
comfort
her
sore
,
proud
,
desolate
heart
with
fancies
when
Emily
merely
sat
upright
in
her
old
chair
and
stared
.
One
of
these
nights
,
when
she
came
up
to
the
attic
cold
and
hungry
,
with
a
tempest
raging
in
her
young
breast
,
Emily
's
stare
seemed
so
vacant
,
her
sawdust
legs
and
arms
so
inexpressive
,
that
Sara
lost
all
control
over
herself
.
There
was
nobody
but
Emily
--
no
one
in
the
world
.
And
there
she
sat
.
"
I
shall
die
presently
,
"
she
said
at
first
.
Emily
simply
stared
.
"
I
ca
n't
bear
this
,
"
said
the
poor
child
,
trembling
.
"
I
know
I
shall
die
.
I
'm
cold
;
I
'm
wet
;
I
'm
starving
to
death
.
I
've
walked
a
thousand
miles
today
,
and
they
have
done
nothing
but
scold
me
from
morning
until
night
.
And
because
I
could
not
find
that
last
thing
the
cook
sent
me
for
,
they
would
not
give
me
any
supper
.
Some
men
laughed
at
me
because
my
old
shoes
made
me
slip
down
in
the
mud
.
I
'm
covered
with
mud
now
.
And
they
laughed
.
Do
you
hear
?
"
