sunnysunfly

小学英语阅读100篇我有全套，等会儿一一告诉你

兔兔妈

I like it

諵宮寒涳

你好，这是8年级下英语一单元READING的听力原文、
will happen in th
DO you think you will have your own robot?
      In some science fiction movies,people in the future have their own robots.There robots are just like humans.They help
with the housework and do the most unpleasant jobs.
      Some scientists believe that there will be such robots in the future.However,they agree it may take hundreds of years.
Scientist are now trying to make robots look like people and do the same things as us.Iapanese companies have already made robots walk and dance.This kind of robot will also be fun to watch.
      But robot scientist James White disagrees.He thinks that it will be diffcult for a robot to do the same things as a person.
For example,it's easy for a child to wake up and know where he or she is.Mr White thinks that robots won't be able to do this.But other scientists disagree.They think that robots will be able to talk to people in 25 to 50 years.
      Robot scientists are not just trying to make robots look like people.For example,there are already robots working in factories.These robots look more like huge arms.They do simple jobs over and over again.People would not like to do such jobs and would get bored.But robots will never get bored.
      In the future,there will be more robots everywhere,and humans will have less work to do.New robots will have many different shapes.Some will look like humans,and others might look like snakes.After an earthquake,a snake robot could help look for people under bulidings.That may not seem possible now,but computers,space rockers and even electric toothbrushes seemed impossible a hundred years ago.We never know what will happen in the future!   
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李甲

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http://www.tingroom.com/lesson/lbxplj/88233.html

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ROBINSON CRUSOE

Chapter One： I Leave England

　I was born in 1632 in the English city of York. I came from a good family who were from Holland. My father was a Dutch merchant who left Holland when he was young. His business did very well in England. First he worked in the city of Hull, and then in York. In York, he met and married my mother. Before she married my father, her name was Miss Robinson, and I was named Robinson Kreutznaer, after her.
　Unfortunately, the English people in York thought it was too difficult to pronounce our Dutch name “Kreutznaer”, so they began to call our family “Crusoe,” and so today I am Robinson Crusoe.
　I was the third son of the family, but at the time my story begins I was the only one left. My eldest brother was a soldier and was killed fighting the Spanish. My other brother disappeared—we do not know what happened to him.
　Although my father’s business was doing well, I felt that the life of a merchant was not very interesting. I wanted to go to sea and have a life of adventure, sailing the oceans and exploring new countries.
　“Robinson, you can’t go!” my father cried when I told him my plans.
　“But Father, there is nothing for me to do here. I want to see the world.” I said.
　“How can you say that there is nothing for you to do here?” my father replied. “You could go into trade, as I did. And look how well I have done!”
　“Father, I am not good at business.” I said. I didn’t want to tell him that being a merchant was boring.
　“Robinson,” said my father, “wait for a year. I’ll do all I can to teach you how to be a good business man. If after one year, you still want to go to sea, I will let you go.” It seemed as though he was begging me to stay. Perhaps he was afraid to lose another son.
　At that time, I was seventeen years old, young and full of energy. A year seemed like a long time to me, but I agreed to stay, because I did not want to upset my father.
　During that year, I studied hard and tried to learn about business, but it was no use. Perhaps I was born with ocean water in my veins instead of blood! I simply had to go to sea.
　But after a year had passed my father still would not let me go. Father was a quiet and serious man, and he had many strong opinions. He told me that life at sea was dangerous and only for very poor or very rich men, who were probably all crazy anyway. “It is likely,” he said, “that if you go to sea you’ll be drowned or a drunk man before a month is gone!”
　My family was in a middle position, neither very poor nor very rich. My father thought this was the best kind of family to belong to. I decided to ask my mother for help. She was a wonderful woman, and had always understood me. “Mother,” I said, “I still want to go to sea. Please help me to convince Father that I’ll be all right.
　She looked at me sternly. “Robinson, you know what your father thinks of life at sea.”
　“Please, mother,” Icried. I was desperat. “Ask him to let me go for just one year. If after a year I don’t like the life at sea, I’ll come home and become the best business man in the family, I promise!”
　Mother looked at me for a moment. “Robinson,” she said, “I will tell your father what you have told me, but you must understand that I cannot change his mind.”
　Mother went and spoke to Father, but he still would not let me go.
　Three weeks after this, my nineteenth birthday came. Just after this, I decided to go to the city of Hull for a few days. I wanted to get away from my life of business in York.
　I sat by the town’s harbor, watching the ships go out to sea. The ocean shone brightly in the golden sunlight. How I wished I could have been one of the sailors! I dreamed of standing at the front of a ship, feeling the wind on my face as we traveld to strange and mysterious lands. It seemed it would never happen now.
　I was feeling sadder than ever when a voice interrupted my thoughs. “Why, it’s Robinson Crusoe! What are you doing here in Hull?”
　I looked around and saw Tom Bentley, an old friend of mine, standing before me.
　“Tom!” I said, jumping up to shake his hand. “How are you?”
　“I’m better, Robinson, now that we”ve met!” he said.
　“We should celebrate our meeting with a glass of beer! Come on, there’s an inn over there,” I said.
　“Unfortunately, I can’t,” said Tom. “I’m sailing to London on my father’s ship!”
　“Your father’s ship? That sounds exciting!” I said.
　Tom smiled. “Robinson,you should come with me! You look like you have nothing to do , and it won’t cost any money. What do you say?”
　And so I wrote my father and mother a letter telling them what I was about go do, and in September, 1651 I left England to go to sea.

tangramer

美国口音训练第二册

2

Exercise 134  Contrasting Descriptive And Set Phrases

Repeat the following pairs:

An English teacher teaches English.

An English teacher is from England.

An English book teaches English language.

An English book is on any subject but itcame from England.

An English test tests students on Englishlanguage.

An English test is on any subject but itdeals with or came from England.

English food is Caperers for breakfast.

An English restaurant serves Caperers forbreakfast.

http://www.tingroom.com/lesson/mykyxl2/63555.html

tangramer

美国口音训练第二册

1

Nationalities.

When you are in a foreign country, thesubject of nationalities naturally comes up a lot. It’d be nice if there were asimple rule that said all the words using nationalities are stressed on thefirst word. There isn’t, of course. Take this preliminary quiz to see if youneed to do the exercise. For simplicity sake, we will stick with onenationality, American.

Exercise 133 Nationality Intonation Quiz

Pause the CD and stress one word you needto the following examples. Turn the CD back on and repeat after me.

1 the American guy

2 an American restaurant

3 American food

4 an American teacher

5 an English teacher

http://www.tingroom.com/lesson/mykyxl2/63554.html

君子剑

赖世雄学英语第一册 Lesson 2
The English alphabet:
From O to Z:
O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Now listen to the pronunciation again and follow along
From O to Z:
O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
The alphabet song:

O is for owl who comes at night.
P is for pen with which child write.
Q is for queen over all the land.
R is for ring a palm her hand.
S is for son that woman’s as all.
T is for tree that grows so tall.
U is for uncle Sam the USA..
V is for van that comes each day.
W is for web which the spider makes.
X is for X-ray the doctor takes.
Z is for zoo and that is the end.
Now listen to the pronunciation again and follow along
The alphabet song:
O is for owl who comes at night.
P is for pen with which child write.
Q is for queen over all the land.
R is for ring a palm her hand.
S is for son that woman’s as all.
T is for tree that grows so tall.
U is for uncle Sam the USA..
V is for van that comes each day.
W is for web which the spider makes.
X is for X-ray the doctor takes.
Z is for zoo and that is the end.

静水繁华

good

tiansw666

I like it

玉面神猴

努力寻找

玉面神猴

是啊

王笑天

good idea

elfin2012

thank all for doing it

Lois0918

A.Little.Princess 06. Lost and found
http://www.tingroom.com/lesson/shuchong1j/princess/168433.html


Chapter Six  Lost and found


    The next morning, the first visitor to the house next door was Mr.Carmichael, back from Russia. But when he came into the house, his face was sad. Mr.Carrisford knew the answer at once.

    "You didn't find her," he said.

    "I found her," Mr.Carmichael said. "But it was the wrong girl. Her name is Emily Carew, and she's much younger than Ralph Crewe's daughter. I'm very sorry."

    "We must begin again," said Mr.Carrisford unhappily.

    "But where? It's two years now. Two years!"

    "Well, she isn't at a school in Paris. We know that," Mr Carmichael said. "Let's look at the schools in England now."

    "Yes," said Mr Carrisford. "Yes, we can begin in London. There's a school next door, Carmichael."

    Perhaps it was the magic again, but at that moment Ram Dass came quietly into the room.

    "The little servant-girl from the attic is here," he said to Mr.Carrisford. "With the monkey. He ran away again last night to her room. Would you like to see her?"

    "Yes," said Mr.Carrisford. "Yes, I would. Bring her in."

    And so Sara came into the room and stood in front of the Indian gentleman. She smiled at him. "Your monkey came to my room last night," she said, "and I took him in because it was so cold."

    Mr.Carrisford watched her face with interest. "That was kind of you," he said.

    Sara looked at Ram Dass by the door. "Shall I give him to the lascar?" she asked.

    "How do you know he is a lascar?" said Mr.Carrisford.

    "Oh, I know lascars," Sara said. "I was born in India."

    Mr.Carrisford sat up suddenly. “In India?” he said. "But you're a servant at the school next door."

    "Yes, I am now," said Sara. "But I wasn't at first."

    The Indian gentleman looked at Mr.Carmichael, and then Mr.Carmichael looked at Sara.

    "What do you mean by 'at first', child?" he asked.

    "When Father first took me to the school."

    "Where is your father?" said Mr.Carmichael.

    "He died," said Sara very quietly. "His friend ran away with all his money, and there was no money for me. There was nobody to take care of me. So Miss Minchin put me in the attic and said I must work for my bread."

    The Indian gentleman moved in his chair. "What—what was your father's name?" he said. "Tell me."

    Sara looked at him sadly. "Ralph Crewe," she said. "He died in India from a fever, two years ago."

    Mr.Carrisford's face went very white. "Carmichael," he whispered, "it is the child—the child!"

    That was an exciting day for many people. At first poor Sara did not understand. But Mr.Carmichael talked to her quietly and told her everything—the true story about her father's friend and the diamond mine, and the two years of looking for Ralph Crewe's daughter.

    "And all the time," she said later to Mr.Carrisford, when they sat by his fire, "I was in the house next door."

    Tom Carrisford took her hand. "Yes," he said. "And you're never going back there. Your home is with me now. I'm going to take care of Ralph's Little Missus."

    Sara laughed, happily. "And you were the friend, too. All those beautiful things in my attic came from you—you and Ram Dass. Becky and I thought it was magic!"

    The Indian gentleman smiled at her. "We were sorry for you," he said. "Ram Dass can move very quietly, and he carried the things across the roof when you were out. I couldn't find Ralph's daughter, but I wanted to help somebody. And then Ram Dass told me about this sad, lonely little servant-girl in the attic next door."

    And so the story ended happily for everybody but not for Miss Minchin. Sara was very rich now, and Miss Minchin wanted her to come back to the school. She came to see Mr.Carrisford, but he said some very angry things to her, and she went away with a red face.

    Becky came to live in Mr.Carrisford's house, too. She was Sara's servant, and she was very happy. She had a warm room, nice dresses, and good things to eat every day. And she loved Sara very much.

    Ermengarde often came to visit Sara, and Sara helped her with her school lessons again. Ermengarde was not clever, but she was a true friend. On that first day in the Indian gentleman's house, Sara wrote a letter to her, and Ermengarde carried the letter into the schoolroom.

    "There were diamond mines," she told Lavinia and the other girls. "There were! There were millions and millions of diamonds in the mines, and half of them are Sara's. And they were her diamonds all the time when she was cold and hungry in the attic. And she was a princess then, and she's a princess now!"

Lois0918

A.Little.Princess 05. The magic
http://www.tingroom.com/lesson/shuchong1j/princess/168432.html


Chapter Five  The magic


    One night, a week later, Ermengarde got quietly out of bed and went upstairs to the attic. Sara was not there, so Ermengarde sat on the bed and waited. At ten o'clock Sara came slowly up the stairs and into the room.

    Ermengarde looked at her. "Oh, Sara!" she cried. "Are you ill? Your face is white, and you look so tired!"

    "It was a hard day, Ermie," said Sara. She sat down.

    "Miss Minchin was angry with Cook. Then Cook was angry with us. Becky and I had no dinner and no tea."

    "Does that happen often?" said Ermengarde unhappily.

    "You never told me. Are you—are you hungry now?"

    Sara looked at her. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I am. I would like to eat that table. I would like to eat you."

    Ermengarde jumped up. "Sara," she cried. "I had a box of things from home today. There's a big cake in it. I'm going to get it now! You and Becky can eat it all!"

    Soon, Ermengarde was back. The three girls sat on Sara's bed, and there were some happy smiles when Ermengarde opened her box and took out the cake.

    "Oh, Miss, look at that!" said Becky.

    "You are kind, Ermie," said Sara. She laughed. "It's magic, you know. When things are very bad, something nice always happens. Here we are, having a party!"

    Ermengarde gave Sara and Becky some cake, and they began to eat. Suddenly, they stopped. There was a noise of feet on the stairs. They listened.

    "Oh no!" whispered Becky. "It's—it's Miss Minchin!"

    "Yes," said Sara. Her face was white again.

    Then the door opened, and Miss Minchin came in.

    "So, Lavinia was right," she said angrily, "Tea with Princess Sara! Becky, get back to your attic at once!"

    "Oh, please, Miss Minchin!" cried Ermengarde, "It was my cake, from home. We're only having a party."

    "Go back to your room, Ermengarde," Miss Minchin said coldly, "and take these things with you. And tomorrow"—she looked at Sara—"there's no breakfast, no dinner, and no tea for you. Remember that!"

    Soon the attics were quiet again. Tired and hungry, the two servant-girls went to sleep. But after an hour or two Sara opened her eyes. Was it a noise from the window perhaps?

    "Something is different," Sara whispered. "What is it?" She sat up in bed and looked round the room. She looked again and again, and her eyes were very big.

    The room was different very different. There was a wonderful hot fire. There were new, warm blankets on her bed, and beautiful pictures on the walls.

    Sara slowly got out of bed. "Is this a dream?" she said. "Where did all these things come from?" She put out her hand to the fire. "No, it's not a dream. The fire is hot I can feel it. And oh! Look at the table!"

    There was a red cloth on the table, and cups and plates. There was hot tea, and wonderful things to eat—hot meat pies and sandwiches and cake, oranges and apples.

    Sara ran to Becky's room. "Becky," she whispered. "Come quickly. The magic is here again. Come and look."

    When Becky saw the room, she could not speak at first. Then she said, "Oh, Miss! What is it? How did all these things get here?"

    "I don't know," said Sara. "It's magic. At first I thought it was a dream, but it isn't. Look, these pies are hot. Let's eat them. Hot meat pies aren't a dream!"

    They sat down by the fire, and ate and drank.

    "Oh, those pies were good, Miss!" Becky said. "And the tea and the cake. I don't understand magic, but I like it!"

    Sara looked round the room. "Oh, Becky, look! There are some books, too. I didn't see them before."

    She ran to look at them, and opened the top book.

    "There's some writing here! Listen. It says, "To the little girl in the attic. From a friend." "Oh, Becky!" Sara closed the book and looked up. "I have a friend, Becky," she said slowly. "Someone is my friend."

    The next morning Becky met Sara in the kitchen.

    "Oh, Miss," she whispered. "Was the magic there this morning? Or did it go away in the night?"

    "No, it's still there," Sara whispered back. "I ate some cold meat pie for breakfast. And the fire was still warm!"

    Becky laughed happily. "Oh my! Oh my!" she said.
Miss Minchin could not understand it. When Sara came into the schoolroom, she looked happy and well. Miss Minchin wanted to see a white, unhappy face, and eyes red from crying. "How can that child smile?" she thought angrily. But of course, she did not know about the magic.

    And the magic did not go away. Every evening, when Sara went up to bed, she found new things in the attic. There were more warm blankets, for her and for Becky. There were pictures on the walls; there were books, new shoes, and a winter coat. And best of all, there was always a fire, and a wonderful hot dinner on the table.

    "But where does it all come from?" Becky said one night when they sat by the fire. "Who does it, Miss?"

    "A friend does it," Sara said. "A kind, wonderful friend. But he doesn't want us to know his name."

    They began to look at one of the new books, and then Becky looked up.

    "Oh, Miss," she whispered. "There's something at the window. What is it?"

    Sara got up to look. "It's the monkey!" she said. "The monkey from next door." She opened the window, and the monkey jumped down into her arms. "Oh, you poor little thing," Sara said. "You're so cold!"

    Becky was very interested. "I never saw a monkey before," she said. "He's not very beautiful, Miss! What are you going to do with him?"

    "It's very late now," said Sara. "He can stay in my room tonight, and I can take him home in the morning."

Lois0918

http://www.tingroom.com/lesson/shuchong1j/princess/168431.html
Chapter Four  Ram Dass and the monkey

    Every morning, when Sara gave the birds their bread, she looked across to the attic window next door. But nobody opened it. Nobody called out "Good morning!" across the roof, or gave Sara a friendly smile.

    "Perhaps the Indian gentleman's servants all sleep down-stairs," she thought sadly.

    Her life was very lonely now. She saw Becky every day, of course, but they did not have much time for talking. The cook and the other servants were not friendly. Sometimes, at night, Ermengarde came up to Sara's room, but it was not easy for her to come often.

    Then one evening, Sara was in her attic when she heard a noise on the roof. She looked up and there at the open window was a small monkey.

    "Oh, you dear little thing!" cried Sara.

    At once, the monkey jumped down and began to run round the room. Sara laughed. She got up on the table and looked out of her window, and at the next window she saw a face the smiling face of an Indian lascar.

    "Oh," cried Sara, "have you got a monkey? He's in my room."

    The lascar's name was Ram Dass, and yes, it was his monkey. He gave Sara a big smile.

    "I'm so sorry," he said. "Can I come and get him?"

    "Oh yes, please," said Sara. "I think he's afraid of me. And he runs so fast. But can you get across the roof?"

    Yes, Ram Dass could, and a minute later he was in Sara's room. Soon the monkey jumped into his arms, and Ram Dass thanked Sara again and again. Then he went away, across the roof, back into the house next door.

    Sara went to the shops five or six times a day, and when she walked past the house next door, she often thought about the Indian gentleman. She felt sorry for him. He had no wife or family, and the doctor visited the house every day. Mr.Carmichael, the lawyer often visited, too, and sometimes the Carmichael children went with him.

    Sara was pleased about that. "It's nice to see friendly faces when you are ill," she thought.

    The Indian gentleman thought that, too. He liked children very much, but he was a very unhappy man. Mr.Carmichael was his friend, and he talked to him a lot. But they talked about only one thing.

    "I must find the child," said the Indian gentleman (his name was Mr.Carrisford). "I must find her and take care of her. But where is she? Here I am, with all this money from the diamond mines—and half of it is Ralph Crewe's money. Oh, Carmichael, why did I leave my friend and run away when things looked bad? Why?"

    "You ran away because you were ill with a fever," said Mr Carmichael. "It nearly killed you, remember?"

    "And it did kill poor Ralph," said Mr.Carrisford. "He put all his money into the mines because I was his friend. But at first we didn't find any diamonds, and all Ralph's money was gone. I was afraid to tell him, so I ran away. And later, when we did find diamonds, Ralph was dead. He laughed, angrily. "What a brave friend I was!"

    "It's not easy to be brave," Mr Carmichael said quietly, "when you're ill with a fever."

    Mr.Carrisford looked into the fire. "Ram Dass tells me," he said, "about a little servant-girl next door. The monkey ran away, and Ram Dass went across the roof to get him back from her room. The poor child sleeps in a cold, dirty attic, and works about sixteen hours a day. Is Ralph's daughter living like that? I can't stop thinking about it."

    "We are going to find her one day," said Mr.Carmichael.

    "But how?" said Mr.Carrisford. He put his head in his hands. "I never saw her. I don't know her name! Ralph always called her his "Little Missus". We talked all the time about the mines. He never told me the name of her school. Her mother was French, so did he take her to a school in France? Or was it in England?”

    "Well, we know there was a child at a school in Paris," said Mr.Carmichael, "with the name of Carew or Crewe. Her father died suddenly, and a Russian family took her away with them, because she was a friend of their daughter. Perhaps this girl is Ralph Crewe's child. Next week I'm going to Moscow to look for her."

    "I want to go with you, but I m not well," said Mr.Carrisford. "I must find her, Carmichael. I must. Every night, in my dreams, I see Ralph Crewe's face, and he says: "Tom, Tom, where is my Little Missus? And I have no answer for him." Mr.Carrisford took his friend's hand. "Help me to find her. Help me."

    Winter came, with its short, dark days, and the attic rooms were very cold.

    There were no fires for servant girls, and often Sara and Becky could not sleep because of the cold. Sara was taller now, and her old black dress was very short. Her shoes were old, and she had no warm coat for the winter weather. She was thin, too. She did not get very much to eat, and she was always hungry.

    She carried big baskets of shopping through the rain and the snow. One day she found a sixpence in the snow, and she bought some hot new bread with it. Then she saw a child by the door of the shop. The child had no-shoes and no coat, and her thin face was blue with cold.

    "She is hungrier than I am," thought Sara. And she gave her hot new bread to the child.

    When she got back to the school, Miss Minchin was angry. "Cook is waiting for you, Sara. Why are you late?"

    "I can't walk quickly through the snow," said Sara. "My shoes are old, Miss Minchin, and my feet get very cold."

    Miss Minchin did not like to hear this. "Don't speak to me like that!" she said. "I am kind to you, I'm giving you a home, but you never say 'thank you' to me."

    Sara looked at her. "You are not kind," she said quietly. "And this is not a home."

    "Go to your room at once!" said Miss Minchin.

    On the stairs Sara met Lavinia. Lavinia looked at her and gave a little laugh. "Oh, here's Princess Sara," she said, "in her old dress and her dirty shoes!"

    In the attic, Sara sat down on the chair by her table.

    "I must be brave," she whispered. "A princess is always brave, so I must be, too. But it's not easy." She put her head down on her arms. "Oh, Father, do you remember your Little Missus? Can you see me now?"

    And in the house next door, Mr.Carrisford sat by a warm fire. Moscow is a long way from London, and he could only wait, but he thought about Ralph Crewe's child every day. He thought about other children, too.

    "Ram Dass," he said. "How is that poor little servant-girl next door? Can we do something for her?"

    "I see her in the street every day," said Ram Dass. “In the rain, in the snow. She looks thin and hungry. But we can help her. I can easily get in through her attic window. Listen..." And he talked for some minutes.

    Mr.Carrisford smiled. "Yes," he said to Ram Dass. "Yes, I like it. Let's do it."

Lois0918

A.Little.Princess 03. The new servant-girl

http://www.tingroom.com/lesson/shuchong1j/princess/168429.html

Chapter Three  The new servant-girl


    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.

    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.

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

    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."

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

    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!"

    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.

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

    "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.

    "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."

    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.
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!"

    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.

    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?"

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

    "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..."

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

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

    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.

    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 the third, and a fourth.

    "Oh Sara, how wonderful!" said Ermengarde.

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

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

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

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

    "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."

    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."

Lois0918

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    'I'm sorry, sir,' he said. 'I didn't mean to sit down.'

    'That's all right, Robert,' said Mr Williams. 'I was going to ask you some time what you thought of that picture.'

    'Well, sir,' replied the servant, 'of course, I don't really understand pictures, but I wouldn't like my little girl to see it. I'm sure it would give her bad dreams. It doesn't seem the right kind of picture to leave lying around. It could frighten anybody — seeing that awful thing carrying off the poor baby. That's what I think, sir. Will you need me any more today, sir? Thank you, sir.'

    Filcher left the room and the three men went at once to look at the picture. There was the house as before, under the moon and the clouds. But the window that had been open was now shut, and the figure was once more on the lawn; but not crawling this time. Now it was walking, with long steps, towards the front of the picture. The moon was behind it and the black material of its garment nearly covered its face. The three men were deeply thankful that they could see no more of the face than a high, white forehead and a few long, thin hairs. Its legs beneath the garment were borribly thin, and its arms held something which seemed to be a child, whether dead or living it was not possible to say.

    The three friends watched the picture until it was time for dinner but it did not change at all. They hurried back to Williams'rooms as soon as dinner was finished. The picture was where they had left it, but the figure had gone, and the house was quiet under the moon and the clouds.

    'Well,' said Mr Williams, 'now we really must try to find where this house is.' They got out the guidebooks and began to work.

    It was nearly two hours later when Williams suddenly cried, 'Ha！This looks like it!'

    He read aloud from the Cuide to Essex that he was holding:

    'Anningly. Interesting twelfth-century church containing the tombs of the Francis family, whose home, Anningly Hall, stands just behind the church. The family is now extinct. The last member of the family disappeared very mysteriously in 1802 while still a child. His father, Sir Arthur Francis, a well-known amateur artist, lived quite alone after that until he was found dead in his house three years later, after he had just completed a picture of the Hall.'

    As Mr Williams finished reading, there was a knock on the door and Doctor Green came in. He had just returned from Brighton and had found Williams'note. He agreed at once that the picture was of Anningly Hall, which was not far from where he had grown up.

    'Have you any explanation of the figure, Green?' asked Williams.

    'I don't know, I'm sure, Williams,' Doctor Green replied.

    'When I was a boy, some of the old people in Anningly still used to talk about the disappearance of the Francis child. They said that Sir Arthur had a lot of trouble with some of the local people coming onto his land to steal his fish and his birds. He decided to catch them all and have them punished, and, one by one he did, until there was only one left. This was a man called Gawdy whose family had once been rich and important in that part of Essex. In fact, some of them had their tombs in the village church too. However, the family had lost all their land and their money over the years and Gawdy felt rather bitter about it all. For a long time Sir Arthur could not catch him doing anything  wrong until one night his men found Gawdy with some dead birds in Sir Arthur's woods. There was a fight and one of the men was shot. This was just what Sir Arthur needed; the judge was all on his side, of course, and poor Gawdy was hanged a few days later. People thought that some friend of Gawdy's stole Sir Arthur's little boy in revenge, to put an end to the Francis family as well. But I should say now, that it looks more as if old Gawdy managed the job himself. Brrrr. I don't like to think about it. Let's have a drink, shall we?'

    The story of the picture was told to a few people; some believed it and some did not. Mr Britnell knew nothing about it except that the picture was unusual in some way. It is now in the museum and, although it has been carefully watched, no one has ever seen it change again.