Index
West_Frances_Gwiazdy_Swieca_dla_wszystkich_RPP069
Frances Stockton Quarterback Blitz (pdf)
Hailey Lind [Annie Kinca
George R.R. Martin MaśÂ‚pia kuracja
Alan Burt Akers [Dray Prescot 07] Arena of Antares (pdf)
Baum, L Frank Oz 06 The Emerald City of Oz
Uleczyć‡ nieuleczalne MichaśÂ‚ Tombak
671. Morris Debrah Ogród po deszczu
Sara York Not That Type of Guy
Jan DobraczyśÂ„ski Kto was zabije
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    came true."
    Then she told him the story of the bun shop, and the fourpence she
    picked up out of the sloppy mud, and the child who was hungrier
    than herself. She told it quite simply, and in as few words
    as possible; but somehow the Indian gentleman found it necessary
    to shade his eyes with his hand and look down at the carpet.
    "And I was supposing a kind of plan," she said, when she had finished.
    "I was thinking I should like to do something."
    "What was it?" said Mr. Carrisford, in a low tone. "You may do
    anything you like to do, princess."
    "I was wondering," rather hesitated Sara--"you know, you say I have
    so much money--I was wondering if I could go to see the bun-woman,
    and tell her that if, when hungry children--particularly on those
    dreadful days--come and sit on the steps, or look in at the window,
    she would just call them in and give them something to eat,
    she might send the bills to me. Could I do that?"
    "You shall do it tomorrow morning," said the Indian gentleman.
    "Thank you," said Sara. "You see, I know what it is to be hungry,
    and it is very hard when one cannot even PRETEND it away."
    "Yes, yes, my dear," said the Indian gentleman. "Yes, yes, it must be.
    Try to forget it. Come and sit on this footstool near my knee,
    and only remember you are a princess."
    "Yes," said Sara, smiling; "and I can give buns and bread to
    the populace." And she went and sat on the stool, and the Indian
    gentleman (he used to like her to call him that, too, sometimes)
    drew her small dark head down on his knee and stroked her hair.
    The next morning, Miss Minchin, in looking out of her window,
    saw the things she perhaps least enjoyed seeing. The Indian
    gentleman's carriage, with its tall horses, drew up before
    the door of the next house, and its owner and a little figure,
    warm with soft, rich furs, descended the steps to get into it.
    The little figure was a familiar one, and reminded Miss Minchin
    of days in the past. It was followed by another as familiar--
    the sight of which she found very irritating. It was Becky, who,
    in the character of delighted attendant, always accompanied her
    young mistress to her carriage, carrying wraps and belongings.
    Already Becky had a pink, round face.
    A little later the carriage drew up before the door of the baker's shop,
    and its occupants got out, oddly enough, just as the bun-woman
    was putting a tray of smoking-hot buns into the window.
    When Sara entered the shop the woman turned and looked at her,
    and, leaving the buns, came and stood behind the counter.
    For a moment she looked at Sara very hard indeed, and then
    her good-natured face lighted up.
    "I'm sure that I remember you, miss," she said. "And yet--"
    "Yes," said Sara; "once you gave me six buns for fourpence, and--"
    "And you gave five of 'em to a beggar child," the woman broke in on her.
    "I've always remembered it. I couldn't make it out at first."
    She turned round to the Indian gentleman and spoke her next words
    to him. "I beg your pardon, sir, but there's not many young people
    that notices a hungry face in that way; and I've thought of it
    many a time. Excuse the liberty, miss,"--to Sara--"but you look
    rosier and--well, better than you did that--that--"
    "I am better, thank you," said Sara. "And--I am much happier--
    and I have come to ask you to do something for me."
    "Me, miss!" exclaimed the bun-woman, smiling cheerfully.
    "Why, bless you! Yes, miss. What can I do?"
    And then Sara, leaning on the counter, made her little proposal
    concerning the dreadful days and the hungry waifs and the buns.
    The woman watched her, and listened with an astonished face.
    "Why, bless me!" she said again when she had heard it all; it'll be
    a pleasure to me to do it. I am a working-woman myself and cannot
    afford to do much on my own account, and there's sights of trouble
    on every side; but, if you'll excuse me, I'm bound to say I've given
    away many a bit of bread since that wet afternoon, just along o'
    thinking of you--an' how wet an' cold you was, an' how hungry you
    looked; an' yet you gave away your hot buns as if you was a princess."
    The Indian gentleman smiled involuntarily at this, and Sara smiled
    a little, too, remembering what she had said to herself when she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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