Voices from the past
One not so pretty, stout woman, who's name was quite specific – Phlegmenkoff, who was absolutely not interest in revolution – and vice versa – went to the Petersburg's railway at the dawn.
Coughing from time to time, she shuffled through the snow, trying to not wet to the end her old shoes. Persistently stared at the ground, with hope, she'll find there something.
It was exactly the main reason of her walk – she knew, that last night crowds of rich people leaves this city in a hurry.
But she was too cowardly to go to the palace, so she decided to look around the platform.
"Nothing, there's nothing", she muttered angrily, kicking pebbles within range of her feet.
Ah, she wanted to find although a precious stone of someone's necklace!...
She could to sold it and provide a decent living to herself, and finally leave this damned orphanage.
See, Phlegmenkoff was the headmistress of People's Orphanage, located in the outskirts of the city. And she frankly hated children. But she had to live somehow.
She stopped at the moment, swearing in her minds, and shuddered, when the icy blast of wind jerked her coat tails up.
"Oh, I hate this place so much!", she snarled quite loud – her words resounded in the air by the moment – and then marched back to the street.
Coughing and wheezing, she sought to her "home" by rapid steps. Only one thing, what she wanted then, was the disobedience of one of the children – oh, yeeeah, she'll show him! He'll get a punishment, and…
Her thinking was interrupted by the collision with plumb, little person – oh, about her height. She had traces of tears on her face.
Phlegmenkoff wanted to scream: "How are you walking, little brat?", when she saw, that red-haired girl didn't noticed her.
She was passing around old bench. Phlegmenkoff stayed near it. Girl looked ahead tearful, absent eyes.
"Hey!", the woman snarled. "Hey, you!"
The girl whispered something unclearly.
Phlegmenkoff grabbed her by hand and pulled her on her side.
"What are you doing here, huh?", asked for clarification.
"I… I must… Train…", child mumbled, who looked as if had a fever.
At last, child started crying.
"Let me go!"
Phlegmenkoff was ready to realized her request, but suddenly she heard footsteps, approaching them, and quiet voices.
She reluctantly stabbed her nails into the girl's sleeve brown jacket and dragged her with herself.
Well, place in the orphanage always will be founded.
Because what if the people she heard, were Bolsheviks? She preferred to not suspected her of abandoning or cruelty to a child.
Perhaps this one someone will adopted, she looking fed and healthy.
But if not – it's not her problem anymore.
She'll only ask her about everything into the place, find her some place to sleep – and then, brat will must care about himself.
Beyond this – she noted a gold necklace on her neck (it have to be a valuable!). Maybe she'll confiscated it at the earliest opportunity…
The girl sensed her intentions, because she quickly hid her necklace under her coat. She did that so hesitantly… Even though, it looked like she didn't knew, that she had it.