A Little Princess (Chapter 8) — Extended Loop | A Bedtime Story for Sleep

Joanne D'Amico (0:05)

Hello, my dear listener, and welcome back to Drift Off. This is your host Joanne, and I'm so happy you're here. Tonight we continue A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett with Chapter 8 Sara's world has changed greatly since we last left her. And tonight, we find her adjusting to a quieter, humbler corner of Ms. Minchin's house, learning, in her own quiet way, to hold on to herself, even as everything around her shifts.

Before we begin, let's take a moment to settle in.

Wherever you're listening from, your bed, a cozy chair, the dark quiet of your room, and the quiet of your room, allow your body to grow heavy and still.

Let your shoulders soften and drop away from your ears.

Unclench your jaw.

Let your forehead smooth out, and allow your hands to rest open and easy.

Feel the weight of your body sinking a little deeper into whatever's holding you. The mattress, the cushions, the softness beneath you.

With each moment, let a little more tension melt away.

Your legs grow heavy.

Your arms are loose and limp.

There's nowhere else to be, and nothing else to do but rest here.

And when you're ready, let's begin.

Chapter 8 In the Attic The first night she spent in her attic was a thing Sara never forgot. During its passing, she lived through a wild, unchildlike woe of which she never spoke to anyone about her. There was no one who would have understood. It was indeed well for her that as she lay awake in the darkness, her mind was forcibly distracted, now and then, by the strangeness of her surroundings. It was perhaps well for her that she was reminded by her small body of material things. If this had not been so, the anguish of her young mind might have been too great for a child to bear. But really, while the night was passing, she scarcely knew that she had a body at all, or remembered any other thing than one. My papa is dead, she kept whispering to herself. My papa is dead! It was not until long after that she realized that her bed had been so hard that she turned over and over in it to find a place to rest, that the darkness seemed more intense than any she'd ever known, and that the wind howled over the roof among the chimneys, like something which wailed aloud. Then there was something worse. This was certain scufflings and scratchings and squeakings in the walls and behind the skirting boards. She knew what they meant, because Becky had described them. They meant rats and mice who were either fighting with each other or playing together.

Once or twice she even heard sharp toed feet scurrying across the floor, and she remembered in those after days when she recalled things, that when first she heard them, she started up in bed and sat trembling, and when she lay down again, covered her head with the bedclothes.

The change in her life did not come about gradually, but was made all at once. She must begin as she is to go on, Miss Minchin said to Miss Amelia. She must be taught at once what she is to expect.

Mariette had left the house the next morning. The glimpse Sara caught of her sitting room as she passed its open door showed her that everything had been changed. Her ornaments and luxuries had been removed, and a bed had been placed in a corner to transform it into a new pupil's bedroom.

When she went down to breakfast, she saw that her seat at Miss Minchin's side was occupied by Lavinia, and Miss Minchin spoke to her coldly. You will begin your new duty, Sara, she said, by taking your seat with the younger children at a smaller table. You must keep them quiet and see that they behave well, and do not waste their food. You ought to have been down earlier. Lottie has already upset her tea.

That was the beginning, and from day to day, the duties given to her were added to.

She taught the younger children French, and heard their other lessons, and these were the least of her labors.

It was found that she could be made use of in numberless directions. She could be sent on errands at any time, and in all weathers. She could be told to do things other people neglected. The cook and the housemaids took their tone from Miss Minchin, and rather enjoyed ordering about the young one who had been made so much fuss over for so long. They were not servants of the best class, and had neither good manners nor good tempers, and it was frequently convenient to have at hand someone on whom blame could be laid.