Late at night the door opened quietly, and Becky looked in. Her eyes were red from crying. "Oh, Miss," she said. "All the servants are talking about it. I'm so sorry -- so sorry!" She looked at Sara's white face, and began to cry again. Then she ran to Sara, and took her hand.

That evening, in the little attic room, Sara sat on the bed in her old black dress. She did not cry, but her face was white and she did not move or speak for hours.

At last Sara moved. Slowly, she turned her head and looked at Becky. "Oh, Becky," she said. And that was all.

The cook was a big woman with a red, angry face. "So," she said, "the little rich girl with the diamond mines is now a servant, eh?" She looked at Sara. "Now, I'm making apple pies this morning. Run down to the shops and get me some apples. And be quick!"

The next morning Sara's new life began. She learnt to clean floors and to make fires. She ran upstairs and downstairs, and she worked in the kitchen.

That first night in the attic was very long. Sara did not sleep. "Father is dead," she whispered, again and again. "Father is dead. I'm never going to see him again."

"You speak French well," Miss Minchin said to her coldly. "So you can teach French to the younger children. But you're only a servant. Don't forget that."

The first months of Sara's new life were very hard. She was always tired and hungry, but she never cried. At night, in her little attic, she thought about her father, dead in India all those miles away.

She worked every day, from early in the morning to late at night. She helped in the school, too.

So Sara ran to the shops, and carried a big bag of apples back to the house. Then she cleaned the kitchen floor, and carried hot water up to all the bedrooms.

"I must be brave," she said. "Father always wanted me to be brave. And I have a bed to sleep in, and something to eat every day. Lots of people don't have that."

The girls in the school were sorry for Sara, but Sara was a servant now, and they could not be friendly with a servant. Lavinia, of course, was pleased. "I never liked Sara Crewe," she told her friends. "And I was right about the diamonds -- there weren't any!"

At first Sara's only friend was Becky. Every day Becky came into Sara's room. They did not talk much, but it helped Sara a lot to see Becky's friendly, smiling face.

Ermengarde was very unhappy. When she saw Sara in the school, Sara walked past her and did not speak. Poor Ermengarde loved Sara and wanted to be friendly, but she was not clever, and she did not understand.

"I do like you," Sara said. "Of course I do. But, you see, everything is different now. Miss Minchin doesn't want me to talk to the girls. Most of them don't want to talk to me. And I thought, perhaps, you didn't want to…"

One morning, very early, she got quietly out of bed, went upstairs to the attics, and opened Sara's door.

"Ermengarde!" Sara said. "What are you doing here?"

Sara took Ermengarde's hands. She suddenly felt very happy. Perhaps she cried a little, too. Who can say?

Ermengarde began to cry. "Oh, Sara, please tell me. What is the matter? Why don't you like me now?"

"But I'm your friend!" cried Ermengarde. "I'm always going to be your friend -- and nobody can stop me!"

There was only one chair, so the two friends sat on the bed. Ermengarde looked round the attic. "Oh, Sara, how can you live in this room? It's so cold and -- and dirty."

"It's not so bad," said Sara. "And I've got lots of friends. There's Becky in the next room, and -- come and see."

She moved the table under the window, and then she and Ermengarde stood on it and looked out of the window, over the roofs of the houses. In her pocket Sara had some small pieces of bread. She put her hand out of the window, with the bread on it. "Watch," she said.

"They know I'm their friend," said Sara, "so they're not afraid. Sometimes they come into the room, too."

After a minute a little brown bird flew down to Sara's hand and began to eat the bread. Then a second bird came, and a third, and a fourth.

"Nobody," said Sara sadly. "So I never see anybody at that window, and I can only talk to the birds."

Ermengarde looked across the roof to the next attic window. "Who lives in that house?" she asked.

"Oh Sara, how wonderful!" said Ermengarde.

"Oooh, Miss!" she said. "An Indian gentleman is moving into the house next door. Well, he's English, but he lived in India for years and years. And now he's going to live next door. He's very rich, and he's ill. Something bad happened to him, but I don't know what."

But one night, two or three weeks later, Becky came into Sara's room. She was very excited.

Sara laughed. "How do you know all this?" she said.

"Well, Miss, you know the Carmichael family across the street?" Becky said. "I'm friendly with their kitchen-girl, and she told me. Mr Carmichael is the Indian gentleman's lawyer, so they know all about him."