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A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
CHAPTER 1.
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Once on a dark winter's day, when the
yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the
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streets of London that the lamps were
lighted and the shop windows blazed with
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gas as they do at night, an odd-looking
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little girl sat in a cab with her father
and was driven rather slowly through the
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big thoroughfares.
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She sat with her feet tucked under her, and
leaned against her father, who held her in
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his arm, as she stared out of the window at
the passing people with a queer old-
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fashioned thoughtfulness in her big eyes.
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She was such a little girl that one did not
expect to see such a look on her small
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face.
It would have been an old look for a child
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of twelve, and Sara Crewe was only seven.
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The fact was, however, that she was always
dreaming and thinking odd things and could
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not herself remember any time when she had
not been thinking things about grown-up
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people and the world they belonged to.
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She felt as if she had lived a long, long
time.
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At this moment she was remembering the
voyage she had just made from Bombay with
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her father, Captain Crewe.
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She was thinking of the big ship, of the
Lascars passing silently to and fro on it,
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of the children playing about on the hot
deck, and of some young officers' wives who
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used to try to make her talk to them and
laugh at the things she said.
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Principally, she was thinking of what a
queer thing it was that at one time one was
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in India in the blazing sun, and then in
the middle of the ocean, and then driving
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in a strange vehicle through strange
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streets where the day was as dark as the
night.
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She found this so puzzling that she moved
closer to her father.
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"Papa," she said in a low, mysterious
little voice which was almost a whisper,
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"papa."
"What is it, darling?"
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Captain Crewe answered, holding her closer
and looking down into her face.
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"What is Sara thinking of?"
"Is this the place?"
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Sara whispered, cuddling still closer to
him.
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"Is it, papa?"
"Yes, little Sara, it is.
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We have reached it at last."
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And though she was only seven years old,
she knew that he felt sad when he said it.
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It seemed to her many years since he had
begun to prepare her mind for "the place,"
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as she always called it.
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Her mother had died when she was born, so
she had never known or missed her.
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Her young, handsome, rich, petting father
seemed to be the only relation she had in
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They had always played together and been
fond of each other.
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She only knew he was rich because she had
heard people say so when they thought she
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was not listening, and she had also heard
them say that when she grew up she would be
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She did not know all that being rich meant.
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She had always lived in a beautiful
bungalow, and had been used to seeing many
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servants who made salaams to her and called
her "Missee Sahib," and gave her her own
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way in everything.
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She had had toys and pets and an ayah who
worshipped her, and she had gradually
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learned that people who were rich had these
things.
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