Sorry if I changed the point of view in the rest of the story. I found it much easier to write that way.
Her sixth floor bedroom was lined with hunter green walls. The balcony beside the canopy bed had large terracotta pots over flowing with lavender that reached the iron rails.
"It's beautiful."
"I'm glad that you like it. Your father went to a lot of trouble to fix it up for you, since you are going to be spending a lot of time in it," Mrs. Shufflefield replied.
"What do you mean a lot of time in it?" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"Your father already explained to you that he didn't want you to go out."
"But I didn't think that he meant never." Elizabeth sat down sadly on the edge of her bed, crossing her arms in anger.
"When school gets started on Monday you aren't going to have time to think about going out."
A short silence fell as Mrs. Shufflefield continued hastily tidying up the room. Lizzy jumped, as there was a loud slam when the maid placed a large stack of books on the mahogany desk that overlooked the street. "Your school books," she explained, "I hear that you all are going to be having a pop quiz on the first day over what you have already learned in previous years. I suggest you start studying."
Lizzy sighed as she stared out the large double pained window. Oh, how much she longed to break free from her prison of a room. She thought of the peddlers down in the street. Most of them would have loved to be in her place at that moment.
"Well, I'll be off then," Mrs. Shufflefield muttered, breaking Lizzy from her far off trance. Lizzy simply nodded, but did not see a need to turn her face.
As soon as she heard the door click in it's place she traipsed over to the rounded sunroom like portion of the room that held large armchairs, decretive pots filled with plants, and a doorway that opened to the balcony.
A cold wind stung her face and rattled the opened door. A wispy snow had begun to fall from the gray, clouded sky, but she paid no mind to it. The hustle and bustle sounds of the city had once again entranced her.
After a long moment of silence ness she turned and looked below at the passerbyers. There was a quite topsey turvey lady with a large brimmed hat on, covered with dried red geraniums.
Soon, later a fine looking gentleman, that looked very similar to some of the suitors that had visited her in London, hurried by. He was dressed in nice business attire and a beaver skin hat.
All the while these people walked by, a young man, close to her age, dressed in knickers, a button down shirt, and gray suspenders, hustled through them selling his penny papes. "Extra, Extra!" he would call out, time and time again.
In their upscale apartment back in London she would often see boys of this sort, though most being considerably younger, around the age of 10 or so. Her once best friend, named Amelia, always said that they were street villains, no use to anyone. But Lizzy was always soon to correct her by stating that without them the other people would not receive the news of the world. Of course, Amelia would just roll her eyes and say that Lizzy was being silly even though she knew that she had been proven wrong.
Elizabeth's father had once been as poor as those very slums that wandered the streets. Her mother too. He never quite explained why he angered so much about the common people, but Lizzy knew that there must had been a specific angry. He was no stranger to hard times. Living on the streets of Harlem, anyone is going to undergo a great deal.
Lizzy sat there thinking a long while until she heard, "Hey you!" Her brain rattled from being startled so.
"Are ya all right?" the newsboy questioned. She backed away quickly from the rail and nervously brushed away the layer of snow that had accumulated on her shoulders.
"I'm just fine," she replied.
The boy shrugged as she turned and re-entered the room, slamming the door behind her.
