Маленькая принцесса

           "Areyoumakingsomethingupinyourhead,miss?"Beckyinquiredwithrespectfulsoftness.WhenSarasatinsilenceandlookedintothecoalswithdreamingeyesitgenerallymeantthatshewasmakinganewstory.Butthistimeshewasnot,andsheshookherhead.

           "No,"sheanswered."IamwonderingwhatIoughttodo."

           Beckystared—stillrespectfully.ShewasfilledwithsomethingapproachingreverenceforeverythingSaradidandsaid.

           "Ican’thelpthinkingaboutmyfriend,"Saraexplained."Ifhewantstokeephimselfasecret,itwouldberudetotryandfindoutwhoheis.ButIdosowanthimtoknowhowthankfulIamtohim—andhowhappyhehasmademe.Anyonewhoiskindwantstoknowwhenpeoplehavebeenmadehappy.Theycareforthatmorethanforbeingthanked.Iwish—Idowish—"

           Shestoppedshortbecausehereyesatthatinstantfelluponsomethingstandingonatableinacorner.Itwassomethingshehadfoundintheroomwhenshecameuptoitonlytwodaysbefore.Itwasalittlewriting-casefittedwithpaperandenvelopesandpensandink.

           "Oh,"sheexclaimed,"whydidInotthinkofthatbefore?"

           Sheroseandwenttothecornerandbroughtthecasebacktothefire.

           "Icanwritetohim,"shesaidjoyfully,"andleaveitonthetable.Thenperhapsthepersonwhotakesthethingsawaywilltakeit,too.Iwon’taskhimanything.Hewon’tmindmythankinghim,Ifeelsure."

           Soshewroteanote.