Chapter 3
Excerpt: Miss Minchin's End
I almost forgot to mention what became of Miss Minchin. The morning after our miracle happened, The Captain received a curt letter from her, mentioning all of Sara's debts and his obligation to keep her in school, as well as his unlawful harboring of a staff member---me.
Mr. Randolph came to our aid again, and counseled us not to reply, but to wait until Mr. Randolph's lawyer, Mr. Carmichael, could investigate the situation and form an appropriate response.
"No need to worry yourself over it," he told daddy.
"You have already been so kind to me, Mr. Randolph. I do not wish to burden you with my financial problems. It is true that I owe Miss Minchin, and I must somehow make it right."
"Nonsense. Ram Dass told me how those girls suffered at that woman's hands. I'd say that they more than paid their debt to the school with all of their drudgery."
The Captain looked at Sara somberly. "I'm so sorry that you had to experience it. I should have been more careful..."
"It's not your fault, papa," Sara assured him. "Besides, I learned just how much working people live and suffer every day."
She smiled at me kindly and continued, "Becky knows what it's like to be ordered about all her life, with nowhere to go and no one to care for her."
"Then it was a lesson well-learned, Sara. Nevertheless, I'm proud that you did not stoop to theft or some other vice to obtain a living."
She gasped. "Oh no, papa. I would never do that, ever. It would be beneath a princess to steal."
He smiled. "My strong little girl."
"I wouldn't have been so strong, if it weren't for Becky. She helped me survive that attic."
Daddy beamed at me. "Thank you, Rebecca, for saving Sara's life."
"Sara was the one who kept me going by telling her stories about the magic," I was happy to reply.
"And then Ram Dass and Uncle Charles came to our rescue," added Sara, who now called Mr. Randolph, "Uncle Charles". We laughed at the thought of that wonderful morning in the attic, when everything became bright and beautiful again.
"I have to say, Ram Dass, that was one of your best ideas, to help the girls," said Mr. Randolph.
"Once again, I am indebted to you, Mr. Randolph," replied The Captain.
"Think nothing of it. Here I was, a sick old man confined to a wheelchair, with nothing better to do. Ram Dass told me about two little girls living next door in the attic, working like slaves. I figured I hadn't made my usual charitable donation during the past holiday, so why not help them a little."
At this, Sara bounded toward Mr. Randolph's wheelchair and gave him a big hug. "Thank you!"
I stood at a respectful distance and expressed my gratitude. "If it weren't for you, we would have starved."
He seemed very pleased and said, "You're all very welcome."
Sara went to Ram Dass next and looked up at him with her big, blue eyes. "I remember that day when I was in the street, and my shawl flew to your feet. You had always seemed so familiar, as if I knew you already."
"You're right, Miss," said Ram Dass. "Perhaps that's because I knew you from before."
"Before?" asked The Captain curiously. "Where?"
"On the ship, sahib. Perhaps you do not remember, but I saw you dancing with Miss Sara on the deck of the Cristina Elisa."
Daddy struggled to remember. "I remember dancing with Sara..." he faltered. "But why do I not remember you?"
"Because I was watching you from a distance. But I never forgot you, sahib."
"So you recognized me, then?"
Ram Dass grinned as he nodded. "I did, sahib, and I was very glad, since I knew your daughter was living next door."
"Wait!" Mr. Randolph interrupted. "You mean you knew all this time that they were related? No wonder you insisted that I take him home. Good idea, I might add."
"Not at first, sahib," returned Ram Dass. "I only saw the resemblances and it reminded me of the man and his daughter from the ship, but I was not sure. I only knew that if it were them, I would have liked to help reunite them. When he spoke, I became more sure. India seemed to stir your memory, sahib Crewe."
"We live in a small world, indeed," Mr. Randolph remarked as he gazed at daddy with fatherly affection. My father, in turn, clasped the elderly man's right hand between his own.
"Thank you," he said, with utmost gratitude. And so we were happy---all of us, it seemed, except for the schoolmistress next door.
Miss Minchin became enraged upon learning of our refusal to acquiesce to her demands. She promptly sent back a missive forbidding all communication and visits between Sara and her students. But Mr. Randolph dispatched his lawyer, Mr. Carmichael to the school and promptly dispelled any such notions.
"She will see anyone she wishes to see," Mr. Carmichael told her. "The parents of Miss Crewe's fellow-pupils are not likely to refuse her invitations to visit."
It was a most unpleasant business when Sara and I returned to the attic to collect the rest of our personal belongings. Mr. Randolph sent Ram Dass and Mr. Carmichael to accompany us. Mr. Carmichael was a friendly, stout, rosy-cheeked man with eight children. He did not seem at all like a typical lawyer. He instantly took a liking to us, as we did to him.
"Now, girls. Let's see if we can get your things out of here as quickly as possible," he said, as he patted us on the head.
When we went up to the attic, we saw that it was bare and drab again. Ram Dass had taken down all of the decorations in Sara's old room.
"Oh, I wish you could have seen it, papa!" said Sara. "It was so beautiful!"
Ram Dass smiled. "It was my pleasure to do it, miss."
I watched daddy as he surveyed our squalid former jail cells. His expression went from stunned disbelief to absolute fury. I had expected such a reaction, for he had made sure that Sara should live in comfort before he left. I kept waiting for him to run to her and hug her again for all that she suffered, but he did not. Instead, full of distress, he whirled around and fixed his eyes on me.
"Do you mean to tell me, Rebecca, that you'd lived here all your life?"
"As far as I can remember, sir."
"This was your only room?"
"The only one, sir."
Sara put her arms around me and gave me a gentle squeeze. "I remember the first time I came up here, Becky. You were putting ice on your feet. They were hurting so badly from those old, worn out shoes that you had to wear."
"And I thought that the trenches were bad," The Captain mumbled to himself. "But it's outrageous for little girls to live like this."
"It's not that uncommon, really," said Mr. Carmichael sadly. "Hundreds of children in this city live in similar conditions, or even worse, out in the streets."
After inspecting the place one last time, daddy vowed, "I promise that as long as I live, you shall not sleep in a room like this again."
I gathered what meager things I had, and we all filed downstairs. His jaw clenched, daddy barely restrained himself from marching into Miss Minchin's office and giving her a piece of his mind. Then I remembered that Sara once told me that daddy had written to her every day.
"Sara, whatever happened to all of your letters from... papa?" I asked.
Everyone suddenly froze in their tracks.
"The letters? I... I don't know..." Sara hesitated. "Miss Minchin must've taken them."
My father could not hold himself back any longer, and he burst into Miss Minchin's office. She was astonished to see us, and very ill-at-ease.
"Captain... I... wasn't expecting you..."
"Where are Sara's letters?" he demanded.
"Sara's letters? I... I don't know what you're talking about," she feigned.
He leaned in and fixed his steely eyes upon her face. "The letters I wrote my little girl while I was away," he said in a low voice.
Miss Minchin, having discerned the danger in his tone, quickly opened a cabinet in her desk.
"Here," she said, as she handed him the stack. They looked like they had been opened and trifled with. Daddy took them, his gaze unwavering upon her. Only at Mr. Carmichael's urging did he take a step towards the door.
"You can be sure, Miss Minchin, that you will never see us again," he announced before we marched out of her office.
As soon as we arrived at Mr. Randolph's, Sara pored over the letters.
"Papa!" she exclaimed. "Some of these arrived after I was banished to the attic, but I'd never seen them before!"
Sara gave them to daddy, who looked grief-stricken as he examined them.
"I wrote these right before I went down," he said softly. "They could have given you strength while you were in that attic."
"Cruel, insufferable woman!" cried Mr. Randolph. "She would deny an orphan her beloved father's last effects!"
Sara held the letters close to her heart. "I'll cherish these forever, papa," she promised.
"Maybe Miss Minchin thought that they would remind you that you were a princess," I ventured. "You know how she always hated it when you behaved like one."
My father beckoned, and we flocked to him. He wrapped his arms around Sara and I and told us, "you are my little princesses, always."
As I hugged him, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ram Dass and Mr. Randolph exchanging grins.
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The next day, Ermengarde, Lottie and some other girls from school (Lavinia excluded) visited us, and gave us the latest news about Minchin.
"She was in a terrible mood all day. Did you know that this morning, Miss Amelia returned with her husband?"
"Her husband!" exclaimed Sara, who was so pleased with her matchmaking success.
"Oh yes," Ermengarde continued. "She told us that they got married on Long Island. Isn't that romantic?"
Everyone sighed. "What did Miss Minchin do?" I asked curiously.
"Screamed at Miss Amelia, of course," replied Jessie.
"We listened outside her door," giggled Lottie.
"Miss Amelia's very happy," Jane proclaimed. "She told Minchin that she's never coming back."
"Miss Minchin flew into a rage and told her everything that happened after your papa came back, Sara."
Ermengarde got up, cleared her throat and did her best imitation of the schoolmistress.
"How could you do this to me, Amelia! How could you leave your poor sister to be with... him! Didn't you hear how I suffered at the hands of Sara Crewe!"
We all burst into laughter. "Very good, Ermengarde! And what did Miss Amelia say?" asked Sara.
"That's the best part," said Lottie. "Miss Amelia stood up to her, if you can believe it."
"Her dashing milkman helped her to be brave," said Jane.
"I shall be Miss Amelia," announced Jessie as she stood up and faced Ermengarde.
"I have no sympathy for you, sister. I must say I've often thought it would have been better if you had let Sara be decently dressed and more comfortable. She worked much too hard for a child of her age, and was only half fed--"
"How dare you, Amelia!" exclaimed Ermengarde as Miss Minchin.
"She would have repaid you for any kindness you had shown her. But you didn't show her any! Just like you didn't show the chimney sweep, or Becky, or even the girls any kindness at all. Not once!"
"Amelia!"
"You're a hard-hearted, worldly woman, sister! And I was a weak fool who wished I had shown Sara more compassion. She behaved herself like a little princess even when she was poor. She did! And now you've lost her, and if she were like any other child she'd tell how she's been treated, and all your students would be taken away from you and you would be ruined. It serves you right, for you're a hard woman; a hard, selfish, worldly woman!"
We clapped and cheered as the actresses took their bows. Miss Amelia had spoken the truth, and deserved to be commended.
"Go, Miss Amelia! Hooray!"
"I never thought Miss Amelia was that awful. She was just scared of Miss Minchin, is all," I remarked.
"Are you going to tell everyone how you were treated, Sara?" asked Lottie.
"I think you should," said Ermengarde. "Then maybe my papa will take me home."
"I already wrote my parents to tell them," Jessie declared. "I hope you don't mind, Sara. Lavinia has written her folks, too, even if she won't admit it."
"Princesses don't go around airing their grievances to everyone," Sara replied. "But I'm sure that you, papa and Uncle Charles will make things known."
And indeed they did. Daddy, being a man of honor, was willing at first to make an agreement with Miss Minchin to owe her little in return for not openly exposing her mistreatment of Sara, for he did not wish to trifle with her any longer. Nevertheless, news of Sara's mistreatment quickly spread, and soon several parents threatened to withdraw their daughters from the seminary unless she resigned.
Mr. Randolph directed Mr. Carmichael to investigate Miss Minchin and the school, and promptly found that she had overcharged tuition for several years, with certain funds going towards questionable expenses. When he announced his findings to the school's patrons, they demanded that Miss Minchin refund any excess tuition, or they would take her to court. Miss Minchin protested to no avail, and was forced to make the refunds. Naturally, this reduced her to penury and she sold the school to Mr. Randolph, who ordered her immediate departure.
With her reputation ruined, she could not find employment, and was forced to sell her belongings, including her prized harp in order to survive. Finally, out of sheer desperation, she took odd jobs, including chimney sweeping, and became a servant to the boy she had once so despised only months earlier. He treated her far better than she had ever treated him.
A few years later, Frances and Amelia, having secured a prosperous dairy farm, took in Miss Minchin, but by then she had gone a little mad, and raved continually about how Sara had wronged her. Eventually, Amelia put her in a sanatorium.
Thus Miss Minchin's seminary became "The Randolph School For Girls." While Mr. Randolph would have gladly enrolled Sara and I as pupils, happy was the day when The Captain came home from the British embassy with good news.
"They have released me from service and returned my property. We can go home!"
"Oh papa!" cried Sara. "India!"
"I can't wait to see India," I added excitedly. "And the beautiful mountains, and all of the magical places that you described, Sara."
"Did you see the pillow Becky made for me, papa?" asked Sara. "It was a birthday gift."
Daddy smiled at me kindly. "I did. It's very beautiful, Rebecca, thank you."
He then hugged us with a happiness that equaled, but did not exceed his happiness at being reunited with Sara. It was not his property that he had longed for; but rather, it was the prospect of going home, far away from the places where he and Sara had suffered, that buoyed him.
"You'll be able to see the forests and rivers, Becky. And the beautiful sunsets, and Maya and Laki... oh!"
"I will make travel arrangements immediately," said daddy.
I was so excited and ready to go. I thought that perhaps someday, I could return to America as a princess. After all, daddy prepared us for the trip as if we were royalty. Sara and I each received plenty of beautiful dresses, leather shoes, embroidered coats, silk stockings, and lace-and-ribbon-trimmed hats. It was almost too much, and I protested that I had no need for such extravagance.
"I only need two dresses," I declared. "One for daily wear and the other one for Sundays."
Upon hearing this, The Captain merely chuckled, but Sara wouldn't hear of it. "Let papa spoil you a little, Becky. You deserve it. A 'thank you' is all you need to say."
"Thank you," I told my father.
"You're very welcome, my African princess," daddy grinned. He had taken a liking to calling me his "African princess," as did I.
"I could be jealous, Becky," said Sara playfully. "You're extra special, being an African princess."
"You're my English rose, Sara, and Rebecca is my African violet," declared daddy. "And you're both very special to me."
"Aw, papa," we said as we hugged him.
"I reckon this will be your first voyage on a boat, Rebecca. You have never left New York, I presume?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "Never, sir. But I look forward to it."
"And you will not get seasick, will you?" he asked mischievously.
"I don't know," I laughed. "As long as I don't fall off the boat, I'll be all right. I don't know how to swim."
"I can teach you when we get back to India, Becky," Sara offered. "Then you can swim among the elephants."
"Elephants..." I murmured as I imagined what that would be like.
"Don't be giving her any silly ideas, Sara," warned dad. "About tigers sleeping under trees, or sacred cows in the middle of roads, and such."
"Too late, papa. I filled her head with them a long time ago. It was the only thing we had to live for during those cold winter nights."
The Captain became pensive upon learning this, and asked, "I see. And what else did you girls do to get through those harsh times?"
Sara and I looked at each other. "Sara didn't tell her stories anymore at first, but when she finally did, all the girls came upstairs to listen to them," I told him.
He gathered us on to his lap and implored, "Won't you tell them to me?"
And so it was that Sara told him of Prince Rama's great adventures, and his life and death struggle with Ravana to save Princess Sita. Afterwards, daddy scratched his head and responded, "this Prince Rama, he doesn't by any chance look like me, does he?"
Sara and I giggled. "Of course, papa," she replied. "Who else would he look like?"
He shook his head and grinned at us, and Sara told more stories, but we never got tired of it. Even Mr. Randolph and Ram Dass were drawn into listening.
"Well, young lady, you certainly have a talent for tall tales," Mr. Randolph complimented her. "Perhaps someday you'll be a great writer."
"Do you think so, Uncle Charles? Then I must write all my stories at once!" Sara declared. From that time on she was not without pen or paper as she recorded all that arose from her bountiful imagination. At her urging I also began illustrating them, and it became our nightly family ritual for everyone to gather around and listen to her stories, accompanied by my drawings.
I wished our special time with Mr. Randolph wouldn't end, for I wondered how he and Ram Dass would manage after we left, as his house would be empty again. I prayed every night for the safe return of his son, John.
"O Lord, please remember Mr. Randolph for all of his kindness to us," I pleaded. But it would be another year before he would learn of his son's fate.