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88 "You have been there all the time, listening," said Miss Minchin.

"No, mum," Becky protested, bobbing courtesies. "Not listenin'—I thought I could slip out without your noticin', but I could n't an' I had to stay. But I did n't listen, mum—I would n't for nothin'. But I could n't help hearin'."

Suddenly it seemed almost as if she lost all fear of the awful lady before her. She burst into fresh tears.

"Oh, please, 'm," she said; " I dare say you 'll give me warnin', mum,— but I 'm so sorry for poor Miss Sara—I 'm so sorry!"

"Leave the room! " ordered Miss Minchin.

Becky courtesied again, the tears openly streaming down her cheeks.

"Yes, 'm; I will, 'm," she said, trembling; "but oh, I just wanted to arst you: Miss Sara—she 's been such a rich young lady, an' she 's been waited on, 'and and foot; an' what will she do now, mum, without no maid? If—if, oh please, would you let me wait on her after I 've done my pots an' kettles? I 'd do 'em that quick—if you 'd let me wait on her now she 's poor. Oh,"—breaking out afresh,—"poor little Miss Sara, mum—that was called a princess."

Somehow, she made Miss Minchin feel more angry than ever. That the very scullery-maid should range herself on the side of this child—whom she realized more fully than ever that she had never liked—was too much. She actually stamped her foot.

"No—certainly not," she said. "She will wait on