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method, and then another.
    "Poor darling," she said one moment, "I know you haven't any
mamma, poor—" Then in quite another tone, "If you don't stop,
Lottie, I will shake you. Poor little angel! There—! You
wicked, bad, detestable child, I will smack you! I will!"
    Sara went to them quietly. She did not know at all what she was
going to do, but she had a vague inward conviction that it would
be better not to say such different kinds of things quite so
helplessly and excitedly.
    "Miss Amelia," she said in a low voice, "Miss Minchin says I may
try to make her stop—may I?"
    Miss Amelia turned and looked at her hopelessly. "Oh, DO you
think you can?" she gasped.
    "I don't know whether I CAN", answered Sara, still in her half-
whisper; "but I will try."
    Miss Amelia stumbled up from her knees with a heavy sigh, and
Lottie's fat little legs kicked as hard as ever.
    "If you will steal out of the room," said Sara, "I will stay
with her."
    "Oh, Sara!" almost whimpered Miss Amelia. "We never had such a
dreadful child before. I don't believe we can keep her."
    But she crept out of the room, and was very much relieved to
find an excuse for doing it.
    Sara stood by the howling furious child for a few moments, and
looked down at her without saying anything. Then she sat down
flat on the floor beside her and waited. Except for Lottie's
angry screams, the room was quite quiet. This was a new state of
affairs for little Miss Legh, who was accustomed, when she
screamed, to hear other people protest and implore and command
and coax by turns. To lie and kick and shriek, and find the only
person near you not seeming to mind in the least, attracted her
attention. She opened her tight-shut streaming eyes to see who
this person was. And it was only another little girl. But it
was the one who owned Emily and all the nice things. And she was
looking at her steadily and as if she was merely thinking.
Having paused for a few seconds to find this out, Lottie thought
she must begin again, but the quiet of the room and of Sara's
odd, interested face made her first howl rather half-hearted.
    "I—haven't—any—ma—ma—ma-a!" she announced; but her voice was
not so strong.
    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 don't see her. So does yours.
Perhaps they can both see us now. Perhaps they are both in this
room."
    Lottle 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