A Little Princess

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

“Nobody goes there but myself,” she thought quickly, “but someone has lighted a candle.” Someone had, indeed, lighted a candle, and it was not burning in the kitchen candlestick she was expected to use, but in one of those belonging to the pupils’ bedrooms. The someone was sitting upon the battered footstool, and was dressed in her nightgown and wrapped up in a red shawl. It was Ermengarde.

“But whatever happens,” Sara kept saying to herself all day—“Whatever happens, somewhere in the world there is a heavenly kind person who is my friend—my friend. If I never know who it is—if I never can even thank him—I shall never feel quite so lonely. Oh, the Magic was good to me!”