# Growing Up (Vorse)/Chapter 32

WHY," cried her grandmother, "you've spent your money, Sara! You've got the book."
"But I want dolls' coats," cried Sara. "I got to have 'em."
"You've got a lovely, lovely book instead. That will last you when the dolls are broken and the dolls' coats worn out."
"They'll never be broken!" cried Sara in the outraged tone of a mother who has been told she will still have her grand piano when her children are dead.
"Oh, I want coats!" she cried. She slipped to the floor, buried her face in her hands and sobbed, not with anger but with grief, the awful grief of grown-ups that occasionally smites children. Her mother and her grandmother stood before her.
"Don't be naughty, Sara," came feebly from her grandmother's lips; but Alice had nothing to say. As well tell a poor mother not to be naughty when she has had in sight warmth and comfort for her children for the winter and then had her money bamboozled from her.
"But why can't I have coats? Why can't I have coats? I'll give them back the book," she cried.
Sara flung herself, with the tragic gesture of one whose heart had been broken completely, upon her mother's chest, and there she remained sobbing while her grandmother murmured:
"Really, you must stop this. Come, let us divert her mind. The auditorium is decorated with canary birds; let's take her up there."
Again they practiced upon Sara the sort of spiritual ​deception grown-ups practice upon children, known as "taking their minds off it." Sara listened to the voices of fifty canaries singing at once, and for a moment forgot her mother cares. Ice cream at an unseasonable hour helped also. So did Alice's carrying the book where it would be noticed the least.
The rest of the day had only the usual unpleasant incidents attendant upon doing too much shopping in too short a time, and getting a train, and trying clothes on a little girl who wants everything she sees, and listening to words from one's mother-in-law like, "I think you should not be so arbitrary, Alice dear. How do you think Sara will develop her sense of choice if you tell her what she must have every time?" And this when trains leave so inexorably.
During the day Sara's grandmother slipped away mysteriously with knowing nods at Alice, and came back bringing a tiny bundle with her.
When they got home she said:
"See what a fairy has brought for a sensible little Sara who took a book instead of buying other things. The fairy was so pleased to see little Sara so sensible that she flew away on fairy wings and got something for Sara."
"Did she pay for it?" Sara inquired sternly. Sad experiences of her own had sufficiently taught her that things must not be taken from shops without payment.
"Oh, yes, she paid for it. She was an honest fairy. She paid for it and took it with her. And what do you think it is?"
"What?" cried Sara, with shining eyes. Poor Sara! She was an easy victim for bait like this.
"A doll's coat!" cried her grandmother with triumph. "Yes, Alice, I was an awful fool! But there was a little coat for a dollar and a half that was so much ​better than those dollar coats, and such really fine material, that I bought it!"
Here there should be a deeply impressive scene, everybody embracing everybody else amid the glad cries of Sara, but instead Sara's lip quivered. Tears slid down her cheeks.
"Thank you," she murmured in a trembling voice.
"Why, Sara, what's the matter?" cried her grandmother. "What ails you? Don't you like the coat?"
Sara could not speak. She slipped down on the floor and put her face in her mother's lap, holding the coat aloft. She made a violent effort, knowing how kind her grandmother had meant to be. From the depths of the desire of her aching mother heart quivered the words, "What's Georgiana going to do? What's Georgiana going to do? What's Georgiana going to do all winter?"
Justice decreed that the richer Georgiana should suffer. The coats, and two coats alone, would have fulfilled the impassioned desired of the maternal heart of Sara. She could not explain. She had no words. But since she had one naked and cold offspring she had also a mother's broken heart.
There had to be some way out of the difficulty. Life would otherwise have been too cruel. Alice came into the nursery to hear Sara talking to the Unseen.
"Evelyn," Sara was calling cautiously, "Evelyn Dearie."
"I thought Evelyn Dearie was dead and buried?" Alice protested.
"I've undeaded her. She isn't dead any more. She said, 'Sara, I'd better come back. I'm better'n Georgiana. I don't worry so. I don't wear clothes!'"
What could Alice answer? The day had been too hard, and besides, there are few ways of outwitting the tyranny of the maternal instinct.