A month passed after the day at the Bronx lodging house. Anne had become a newsie there and had made a hobby of going to the races to remove her mind from the thoughts of the Manhattan boys.

She had struck it big the day before turmoil broke out amongst the newsies of New York. The Bronx had declared a turf war against Manhattan and of course all of the sections of the city began to choose sides.

Since Anne had made a small fortune from betting, she decided that she would lay low for a while, or at least until the turf war was over. There was too much of a risk of her getting involved with Manhattan again and in her mind that was the worst thing possible that could happen.

Anne spent her days watching the horse races, not betting because she didn't have much money to loose and her nights at a small hotel on Garrison Ave. in Manhattan. It was a great place since it was only a block from Sheapshed and only cost 7 cents a night.

One day Anne was in the stands watching the usual big race between Black Jack and Summertime Dune, which Black Jack was in the lead. All of a sudden she felt a tap on her shoulder. She slowly turned around to see the one and only Pieboy staring down at her. "Buy a pape miss?" he asked, apparently not recognizing her.

Her hair had gone a shade lighter from the summer sun and was grown out to her waist with small ringlets at the tips. She had bought some dresses with her newly won money and probably passed for an upper class woman.

Pie had only seen her in a dress and looking decent once and it had been quite a while, so she had changed quite a bit.

"Sure," she whispered as she dug to the bottom of her change purse. Receiving the penny he smiled and said thanks before sauntering offer to look for the next customer.

A minuet later there came another tap upon her shoulder. "What?" she asked, some what annoyed at being disturbed once again.

"Hello mam," a young gentleman of around 17, smiled to her. "I couldn't help, but notice your disturbed manner and wondered if I could sit down," he asked.

"Sure," she paused, "I was hoping that it wouldn't be that obvious." "I wasn't. I was just already intrigued at watching you and I was sort of surprised to see that that young man could have disturbed you so."

Anne gazed up at him warmly, wondering how he could find her so fascinating. This man with his proper language and strange accent truly entranced her. "May I ask your name stranger? And I was wondering what your origin could be."

"Ah, I'm sorry for not introducing myself. My name is Erik Bridgefield. I was trying my best to hide my accent. I feel so strange around the people here since I talk so differently."

"Please don't try to hide it. I simply adore accents. After being around people with the New York slang for so long it is a delight to find a change."

They continued on in the manner, talking cheerfully amongst themselves for another half and hour. Finally, Erik brought up the uncomfortable subject of Pieboy again, "Once again I ask you the reason you sit so baffled." She sighed, "I guess you'll just never give up."

****

Meanwhile, on the platform five rows above Anne, Pie met up with Spot, who had come to watch the races. Spot, who had seen the conversation between Pie and Anne, sat intrigued at her changed look.

A month ago Anne had looked like a regular street rat with soiled clothes and oily hair thrown beneath a cap. Now she appeared as a woman of grace and gentility with her neatly pressed sky blue dress and lacy gloves.

"Hey Spot!" Pieboy yelled, waking him from his trance. Not wanting to bring back the sorrow, which Pie had finally started to forget, of his beloved Anne, Spot quickly ushered him away.

If Pieboy saw Anne not only would he be sorrowful again, but the newsies sorrow would also return and Spot knew that that could be just the right distraction to loose the turf war.

****

"Did you see that boy who sold me one of his penny papes?" Anne asked. He slowly nodded, listening intently so as to not miss a word.

"Well, that was my dear ex beau. Greatfully he didn't recognize me in my new attire as an upper class woman. I was once a newsie also, but departed one day for fear that he did not love me. I was mistaken because the next day another one of my newsie friends came to tell me that he was about to kill himself from my absence. Of course, I hoped that he wouldn't, but could not bring it upon myself to visit him. I just couldn't."

Anne, who had started to sob in the middle of her story, quickly snatched up her handkerchief in an effort to stop the tears. "Oh I'm sorry," he replied with pity. "Oh, I'm alright. I'm just glad to see that he decided to go on with his life, as have I." she forced a smile. "Well, then Madame. In an effort to continue your life, may I offer you a cup of tea at the hotel I am staying at?" Erik asked, standing up to offer his arm. "It would be a pleasure, Mr. Bridgefield," she said, receiving his arm. The two walked gracefully out to the crowded street, not knowing that they were being followed.