low, because she was afraid it would tremble.

"There's some bread in the pantry," said the cook. "That's all you'll
get at this time of day."

Sara went and found the bread. It was old and hard and dry. The cook
was in too bad a humor to give her anything to eat with it. She had just
been scolded by Miss Minchin, and it was always safe and easy to vent
her own spite on Sara.

Really it was hard for the child to climb the three long flights of
stairs leading to her garret. She often found them long and steep when
she was tired, but to-night it seemed as if she would never reach the
top. Several times a lump rose in her throat and she was obliged to stop
to rest.

"I can't pretend anything more to-night," she said wearily to herself.
"I'm sure I can't. I'll eat my bread and drink some water and then go to
sleep, and perhaps a dream will come and pretend for me. I wonder what
dreams are."

Yes, when she reached the top landing there were tears in her eyes, and
she did not feel like a princess--only like a tired, hungry, lonely,
lonely child.

"If my papa had lived," she said, "they would not have treated me like
this. If my papa had lived, he would have taken care of me."

Then she turned the handle and opened the garret-door.