Mrs. Stubbs fairly gasped in her surprise. "Sarah," she said, "what are you saying? Little girls ought not to tell stories; it's wicked. Do you know where you'll go to? Sarah, I'm shocked and surprised at you!"
"Auntie, dear," said Sarah, "it's true--all true. It is, indeed! Ask the doctor, ask the vicar--ask any one who knows about violins, and they'll tell you! It's a real Amati; it's worth five hundred pounds--perhaps more. I'm not telling stories, Auntie, but Father was offered that much for it, only he wouldn't take it because he said it was all he had to give me, and that it would be worth more to me some day."
Never had Mrs. Stubbs heard Sarah say so much at one time before; but her earnest face and manner carried conviction with them, and she saw that the child knew what she was talking about, and was speaking only what she believed to be the truth.
"You really mean it, Sarah?" she asked, putting out a hand to touch the wonderful instrument.
"Oh, yes, Auntie, it's absolutely true," returned Sarah, using the longest adjective she could think of the better to impress her aunt.
"Then," exclaimed the good lady, with radiant triumph, "you'd better 'old your tongue about it, Sarah, and not say a word about it--or you'll be 'aving the Probate people down on you, robbing the fatherless and the orphan."
CHAPTER IV
HER NEW HOME
At last Mr. Gray's affairs were all cleared up, and Sarah was about to leave dingy old Bridgehampton behind for ever to take up her new life in London, the great city of the world.
There were some very sad farewells to be made still; and Mrs. Stubbs was a woman of very good feeling, and encouraged the child to go and say good-bye to everybody who had been kind to her in the past.