(AN: Ok! Hi everyone, its CiCi! I'm editing a bit of this story. Its been years since I've done anything with my fanfiction. I know the whole Spot-falls-in-love-with-the-rich-girl thing has been over done, but I hope you'll read this any way. If I get anything wrong, bear with me! I plan on editing the chapters, correcting anything that I see wrong and hopefully writing a new chapter. Hope everyone enjoys it.)

Disclaimer: I own anything that's not familiar! Anything that has to do with newsies I do not own!

Of Love Life and Laughter By CiCi

"NO! I refuse to have some street rat in my house!" The yell penetrated her ears through the door of her fathers study. She recoiled behind the intricately designed wooden door. She had never heard her father this angry before.

"Sir! The Wilkinson's campaign team has thought of everything except this! We had a late start in the running. If we were to do anything remotely close to their campaign, we would be portrayed as a duplicate of Wilkinson. The late start has pulled the voting polls down 25 percent! If we don't do this, then you will lose! You have to decide whether you're willing to lose thousands of dollars for nothing. It's your decision." She heard a sigh. She couldn't decipher who it was; her father or his campaign manger.

"Okay. Fine, I will accept her into my family for the time being, but when this campaign is over, she will be back on the streets faster than I can say my own name!"

"Sir, when I proposed this temporary adoption, we had no intentions of bringing in a girl. We had in mind a boy. Boys are more commonly found than girls. It would take us at least a month to comb through every lodging house in Brooklyn to look for a girl. And, if we didn't find a girl in those lodgings, then we would have to comb through other boroughs. All in all, it would take too much time. If we were to do that, the campaign could already be over. Actually, we have already found the newsboy. We have been watching him for about a week now and we have decided that he will be the best bet to win this campaign. He will be arriving on the third morning of this month." She heard another sigh.

"That's in three days...there must be another way!"

"I'm sorry Sir, there's not."

"Fine, I'll let you know, I'm against this! And, if he makes any wrong moves at all, he will be kicked back out on the streets!" Her eyes widened at the thought of living in her house with a ruffian. "Come, I have to tell my wife and kids. Let me show you to the door."

She picked herself up off the floor and scrambled down the stairs to the parlor room where her mother was situated on the couch with her needle point.

"What are you...?" She was cut off by her husbands loud booming voice.

"Cecilia, where are you?"

"In the parlor, Christopher." She said with her melodious voice. He walked into the parlor with a dull look in his eyes. He glanced at his wife and turned his head to look at his out-of-breath daughter, Coriander.

"Coriander, are you okay? Why are you breathing so heavily?"

"I...uh...?"

"Coriander!" Her mother reprimanded her, "You are never to use that in a conversation! What has that school of yours been teaching you?" Her husband raised his hand silently to his wife to stop her tongue-lashing.

"Can that wait until later, Cecilia? I have some very important news. Where's Norma?"

"She's in her room." His wife said, as if it was a fact that everyone in the household should know.

Christopher walked to the bottom of the stairs. "Norma Jean?"

"Yes, daddy?" Norma said, her head poking out of her room.

"Would you come down here for a moment? Daddy has some important news to tell the family."

"Okay, daddy!" Norma came bouncing down the stairs, her blonde spiral curls bobbing up and down. She went into the parlor and sat down on the sofa as properly as an eight year old can, having not gone to finishing school yet.

"I have news. I talked it over with my campaign manager. It's not like I have a choice. Hundreds of thousands of dollars are at stake here! And don't worry, I'm going to win this." He now seemed to be muttering to himself instead of talking to the family.

"Win what, honey?" Cecilia asked with peaking curiosity. He fitfully ignored her.

"My campaign manager says that we must take in a...newsboy."

Silence ensued.