A snowball slammed into Jeans' back. "Got ya!" a laughing voice called.
Now, ordinarily Jeans liked to think of herself as a pacifist, but such a challenge as this could not go unanswered. She carefully placed her papes on a bench and made a good, firm snowball.
The dark head bobbed up from behind the fountain and Jeans let fly. "Got you, Robert!" She crowed triumphantly.
His reply was another snowball, which she managed to duck, before throwing another at him.
Unfortunately, a passerby came walking right into her line of fire and the passerby (a very grand lady indeed, who looked as if she habitually went around saying to herself "papa, potatoes, prunes and prisms" ) called a policeman. "Officer, arrest that young lady!" the grand lady demanded grandly.
The policeman looked at Jeans and then back at the fuming lady. "On what charge, ma'am?"
"Why, she -ah, well- she threw a snowball at me!"
The officer's lips twitched, and he said soothingly, "A dreadful thing indeed, marm. You just go on and let me take care of her."
With a final "Humph!" The lady swept on the and policeman turned to Jeans, who instantly tried to look downcast and repentant...and failed miserably.
The policeman's lips twitched again, but he said sternly, "Now, young woman, what have you got to say for yourself?"
Jeans noted the twinkle in his eye and offered audaciously, "Sorry?"
He laughed. "Cheeky kid. Run along, and try not to hit any more ladies."
"Yes sir!" Jeans saluted. "Oh, and officer?"
He turned- and got a snowball in the face. "You didn't say anything about men!" Jeans sang out, darting behind the fountain.
The policeman stooped and made a fast, hard snowball. He flung it at Jeans and then ducked quickly as she sent one in return. The bull blew his whistle hastily, then scooped up another wad of snow.
Another policeman came running up. "Trouble, Dick?"
"Help me out here." The first bull "Dick" said in reply, thrusting a sloppy snowball into his arms. The second officer stared at it for a second, startled, then grinned and threw it at Robert, who unwisely stuck his head out at the wrong moment.
Jeans pulled him back behind the fountain and said hastily, "Bobby, go get Spot, tell him I could use some help."
The boy took off and Jeans quickly began stockpiling snowballs.
The two bulls were competing with each other to see who could make the hardest packed snowballs; they were stockpiling too.
Spot came dashing into sight with Robert at his heels, and Jeans motioned them behind the fountain with her.
"What's up?" the Brooklyn leader asked, looking worried.
"I threw a snowball at a policeman and now we're having a snowball fight.'
Spot shook his head. "Only you. Don't you know you can be arrested for that?"
"He had a sense of humor!" Jeans protested, throwing a snowball at the taller policeman.
"No, not like that. Here, let me show you." Spot took a snowball from her hand and hurled it at one of the bulls. It hit the bigger policeman in the rear as he was bending down for more snow.
The two newsies (and Robert) looked at each other anxiously, but the policeman, fortunately, did have a sense of humor.
He laughed and said to the other bull, "Hey, Dick, we'd better call in reinforcements, these kids have a mean arm."
"Well, if they can all in reinforcements, so can I." And Spot put two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply; the signal for any newsies within hearing to drop whatever they were doing and come running.
Six or seven newsies came racing from different directions. "What's up, Spot?" Pirate asked, hand hovering near his slingshot.
"You won't need that. Pirate, Fox, you throw. Whistler, Robert, Snatch, help Jeans make snowballs. The targets are the fuzz (policeman)."
The newsies sent up a cheer and set to work hurling a barrage of snowballs at the policemen, who meanwhile had called in reinforcements of their own.
Various little children ''taking a walk'' joined in the fun, to the distress of their nurses, so it was the kids against the grownups.
One girl, around fifteen, broke away from her escort (a pale, pasty looking youth), scooped up a snowball and got a policeman square on the chin.
Pirate bowed to her. "Nice shot, miss!"
She swept him a grand curtsy, and said in a lilting Irish accent, "Thank you, good sir! Oh, I say, well done!" As Pirate fitted a marble sized ball of snow into his slingshot and fired.
He bowed again and offered his slingshot. "Care to try, miss?"
"I should love to! Are you quite sure?"
"Positive, miss."
"The name's Eileen, not 'miss'."
"Beg pardon, miss Eileen."
"Ugh!" The girl shuddered expressively. "Don't call me that! You make me look around for Hubert, and I would much rather not be reminded of him."
She put some hard pellets of snow into the slingshot and fired it at one of the bulls, then, smirking, fired one at her escort.
He jumped and looked disapprovingly at her.
Eileen sighed and handed Pirate back his slingshot. "Thank you, I suppose I'd better get back now. I'll be in for a rare scolding when I get home." She tossed him an impish grin. "But it was worth it. I'll see you later, perhaps?"
"Yes, mi- Eileen."
She waved as she walked away, and Pirate turned back to the fight to find Spot smirking at him. "Got yourself a girl, huh Pirate?"
"C'mon, Spot, she's got class. I ain't."
"Stranger things have happened. I still married Jeans, didn't I?"
"You most certainly did," Jeans interjected, dropping a kiss on her husband's flannel shirt-and-suspender-clad shoulder.
He whirled around, "Jeans! I've told you before, don't do that when I'm working on something!"
"All right, I'll stop...if you can catch me." And she raced away laughing, with Spot in hot pursuit.
He caught up with her in short order and tossed her into a snowbank; in return she grabbed up a handful of snow and tucked it down his shirt.
Spot returned the favor with a lump of snow for her hair. Then Jeans took it upon herself to pay peace-maker with a kiss for a consoler.
Pirate rolled his eyes and went back to the battle. The newsies were gaining ground, though Pirate had to admit some of the policemen had a mean arm. He rubbed his shoulder where he'd gotten hit earlier.
Then another policeman came rushing in, blowing his whistle loudly. He did not look like he had a sense of humor.
Knowing trouble when he saw it, Spot motioned for his newsies to leave, and he and Jeans sat down on a bench together and looked like any other young couple out for a pleasure walk in the middle of winter (with no coats on, naturally).
"Officers! What is going on here?" The Officious Officer demanded.
"We were having a snowball fight, sir."
"A snowball fight? Gentlemen, you are officers of the law, not schoolchildren!"
"And you ain't our schoolmaster." One of the men muttered. There were low snickers throughout the group.
"Silence!" The Officious Officer glared. "You will all come with me. The chief will hear about this."
Jeans hurriedly slipped off the bench and went over to the first policeman. She whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you in trouble."
He winked at her. "Don't worry, the Chief's an easygoing man. He's had some snowball fights in his time. Go on back to your sweetheart now, and tell those kids they can really throw."
"Thank you, sir."
"So what did he say?" Spot demanded as she sat down beside him again.
"He said to tell everyone they throw well; he doesn't think they'll get in very much trouble; and for me to go back to my sweetheart."
Spot murmured, "I like that guy, for all he's a bull." His voice sent little chills up and down Jeans' back.
Regardless of passerby, he bent and kissed her (as promised, breathless).
Thank you to LucyofNarnia, Austra, Izabeal Finley, Bekah, cybale and Christina Conlon for reviewing so faithfully! It truly makes my day...
