o do;
but it gave me something to plan and think of. Without the help of an
agile, soft-footed Oriental like Ram Dass, however, it could not have
been done."

Then Sara came into the room. She carried the monkey in her arms, and
he evidently did not intend to part from her, if it could be helped.
He was clinging to her and chattering, and the interesting excitement
of finding herself in the Indian gentleman's room had brought a flush
to Sara's cheeks.

"Your monkey ran away again," she said, in her pretty voice. "He came
to my garret window last night, and I took him in because it was so
cold. I would have brought him back if it had not been so late. I knew
you were ill and might not like to be disturbed."

The Indian gentleman's hollow eyes dwelt on her with curious interest.

"That was very thoughtful of you," he said.

Sara looked toward Ram Dass, who stood near the door.

"Shall I give him to the Lascar?" she asked.

"How do you know he is a Lascar?" said the Indian gentleman, smiling a
little.

"Oh, I know Lascars," Sara said, handing over the reluctant monkey. "I
was born in India."

The Indian gentleman sat upright so suddenly, and with such a change of
expression, that she was for a moment quite startled.

"You were born in India," he exclaimed, "were you? Come here." And he
held out his hand.

Sara went to him and laid her hand in his, as he seemed to want to take
it. She stood still, and her green-gray eyes met his wonderingly.
Something seemed to be the matter with him.

"You live next door?" he demanded.

"Yes; I live at Miss Minchin's seminary."

"But you are not one of her pupils?"

A strange little smile hovered about Sara's mouth. She hesitated a
moment.

"I don't think I know exactly WHAT I am," she replied.

"Why not?"

"At first I was a pupil, and a parlor boarder; but now--"

"You were a pupil! What are you now?"

The queer little sad smile was on Sara's lips again.

"I sleep in the attic, next to the scullery maid," she said. "I run
errands for the cook--I do anything she tells me; and I teach the
little ones their lessons."

"Question her, Carmichael," said Mr. Carrisford, sinking back as if he
had lost his strength. "Question her; I cannot."

The big, kind father of the Large Family knew how to question little
girls. Sara realized how much practice he had had when he spoke to her
in his nice, encouraging voice.

"What do you mean by 'At first,' my child?"