“Dare? is it anything wrong?” said Sara. “You are making a great deal more mystery of it than I should do, godmamma. After all, it isn’t a bit mysterious. Mr. Luigi wants to find this lady, and not knowing the country, he has come most likely to the wrong place; and I am sure he asks for her plain enough out. He could not do it plainer if she were Mrs. Smith instead of Countess Sermoneta; and there is nothing secret about it that I can see; only this, that godmamma Sarah knows her, and is so cross she won’t tell.” “Sara, Sara, don’t say so!” cried I, “you make me quite unhappy. How can your godmamma, who never sets her foot out of doors, one may say,--for she would almost see as much in her own chamber as out of the carriage windows,--how could she possibly know a person no one else knows? And as for being cross, I really consider it very disrespectful and unkind of you, Sara. She never was cross to you. I am sure she has always been very kind to you. You have had your own way so much, child, and been so spoiled, that you think you may say anything; but I must say, criticism on your godmothers----” “I never criticised my godmothers,” cried Sara, starting up. “I may be as wicked as you please, but I never did so. I said godmamma Sarah was cross. Why, everybody knows she is cross. I never said, nor pretended, she was cross to me; and as for kindness! you don’t expect me, I am sure, to give you _thanks_, godmamma, for that!” “What could you give me else?” said I, in some little surprise. Sara stamped her little foot on the floor in vexation and impatience. “Godmamma! what thing in the world could I give you but love?” cried the provoking little creature. “You don’t suppose _thanks_ would do? I thank Ellis when he opens the door for me, or anybody I don’t care for. I had rather, if you could, you did think me wicked and ungrateful, than suppose I would go and thank _you_.” “The child understands!” said I to myself, with tears in my eyes. Ah! what multitudes of people there are in the world who don’t understand! I was taken by surprise. But Sara was of that disposition that she would quarrel with everybody all round, and fight for her secret like a little Amazon, before she ever would let anybody find out the real feeling that was in her heart. If you think she threw her arms round me and kissed me after that, you are quite mistaken. On the contrary, if she could have pinched, scratched, or given me a good shake, she would have liked it, I believe. “But I want to know how this notion came into your perverse little head?” said I; “how can your godmamma know, Sara? and what could possibly make you imagine she did?”