It's just as well. Phil thought to herself. I had planned to do this by myself anyway, and so I shall. On that thought, she turned her back to the direction Spot had gone off in, her eyes searching the area around the building for the best way to carry out her plans. She walked around the establishment, feeling that she knew the building all too well, finding herself eventually at the right side of the building. She looked up at one window, where the light of a single lantern dimly illuminated the room. She knew that before long that light would be put out. How often since her escape had she climbed up the wall, then into the large oak tree where she could peer in at her little brother.

Philippa's face brightened. Of course! The tree! This oak had limbs that reached almost to the window of the room her brother shared with the other boys of the orphanage. If someone were to ask her, she would not be able to tell them how she had climbed the long way up the thick base of the oak's trunk, being driven only by the thought that she must save her baby brother. She came back to herself, finding that she was on a branch level with the window. She carefully moved onto the sturdy-looking limb that branched out, slowly inching herself along it.

She made the mistake of looking down, and her stomach lurched seeing the drop of, at least, twenty feet. She forced her concentration to the window instead. She had to reach it! She heard the branch groan beneath her slight weight and moved back a little, not trusting it as it reached out, growing thinner the farther from the base it got. Still, she was only about five feet from the window.

The girl reached and reached, her desperation growing as she tried to get the attention of someone within the room. Finally, she slumped forward in defeat. She could not even reach the window to tap on the glass. Her eyes welled up with tears. She had failed.

"Try dis."

Phil felt something just barely nudge her back. She arched her neck, frantically wiping at the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. "Spot!" She scooted back toward the base of the tree and, turning as best she could on the branch, threw her arms around his neck in a hug. Never did she think she would be so glad to see that proud smirk of his.

Spot blinked, momentarily speechless, then he found himself, albeit awkwardly, hugging her back. When he did speak, it was gruffly, in an attempt at hiding his own emotions at this sudden display. "Careful 'fore ya make us both fall outta dis tree an' meet our maker."

Phil, realizing that her arms were still about his neck, released him quickly, her eyes lowering. She was thankful for the darkness that prevented him from seeing her blush. She saw Spot's trademark cane resting against one of his legs and knew that must have been what he had used to prod her in the back.

He followed her gaze, then handed the cane to her, muttering something about being careful. Afterall, the cane is one of his two most prized possessions-the other being his slingshot. Phil smiled gratefully, flashing those little white teeth, reminding Spot of one of those pretty porcelain dolls he had seen in department store windows around Christmas time.

Phil moved back out along the branch as far as she dared. Next, holding on to the branch with her right hand, she extended her left, which held the cane. It was just long enough for her to lightly tap on the windowpane. She had to repeat the process four times before a boy finally of about fifteen years opened the window.

"What the--?"

Phil held a finger to her lips. "Its me!" She hissed, then took off the hat and shook her head so that her distinct chestnut hair tumbled down around her face.

The boy recognized her instantly. "Philippa!"

She flashed him another look to remind him to be quiet. "Hi Vinnie." She tried to look past him into the room. "Where's my brother?"

Vinnie shrugged, seeming a little offended that she offered no more than that simple greeting. "Ya know da young ones are put to bed real early."

Phil was beginning to lose her patience, which she had little of to begin with. It was a virtue she had never managed to master. Anyway, she opened her mouth to speak, but it was Spot's voice that she heard instead of her own. "Look here. She sure didn't come ta look at yer ugly mug. So would ya just get da kid?"

Vinnie leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the boy sitting behind Phil, glaring at him. "An' who're you?"

Spot smirked, unconcerned. "Da name is Spot Conlon."

Spot's reputation was widely spread. Vinnie had worked for a time as a newsie in Queens when he had managed to run away once, and he had heard stories of Spot Conlon, notorious leader of the Brooklyn newsies and people who had gotten on his bad side. Vinnie seemed to decide it wasn't worth the trouble seeing if they were true or not, because he backed away, grumbling, "All right. I'll go an' find 'im."

It seemed an eternity to Phil before Vinnie finally returned, though in actuality, it was no more than a few minutes. In tow was a young child, sleepily rubbing his eyes with small fists. Phil felt her heart jump to her throat. "Christopher!" She extended her arms as if to take him into her arms but knew she couldn't reach him.

The child's eyes went wide, the sleepiness replaced by astonishment. "Phiwippa!" He climbed up onto the windowsill.

"Alright. Listen to me. Go get your things. I'm going to-" She glanced back at Spot. "We are going to get you out of here."

Spot watched this scene, noticing that Phil had lost all caution at the sight of her brother. The little boy hurried off to get his things, and the girl started to turn toward Spot. He touched her arm lightly, shaking his head. "Hold still. I knows you'se excited an' all, but it ain't gonna do much good if ya kill yaself a'fore ya get da kid outta here."

Phil sobered up a bit at his reminder, watching the window anxiously. Before long, Christopher had returned with his few belongings, which consisted of nothing more than an extra pair of pants and two shirts, along with a rather worn, obviously well-loved teddy bear.

Spot rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger, thinking. However were they going to manage this? He started eyeing the ledge just below the windowsill. Phil, noting how quiet Spot had gotten, followed his gaze.

"I'll do it." She said, instantly thinking the same thing.

Spot frowned. "No. Let me go. It ain't no job for a-." Spot decided that it would be best for him not to continue that sentence. He was going to say that it was no job for a 'goil', but as he had told Jack often enough: He had a brain and more than just half of one. Instead, he told her, "I'd feel terrible if sumpin' should happen to ya. I'se been doin' dis kind a thing fer as long as I can remember."

Reluctantly, Philippa agreed. They proceeded to make the best plan they could under the circumstances. It was decided that Spot would make the leap over to the ledge and would then help Christopher into the tree. Then, the three of them would be out of there. It sounded simple enough.

The first step was for Spot and Phil to trade places on the tree limb, which they managed to do with great caution. Spot stood to his feet holding onto the branch overhead, and it suddenly struck him that he was crazy! If he missed that ledge, he'd be a goner! But there was Phil, her eyes bright and imploring and the admiration in her little brother's eyes was already quite evident. Making sure he was well balanced, he then made the leap.

He was almost an inch short of the ledge, and Phil let out a small scream, screwing her eyes shut, but there was no sickening thud as she had been imagining. Finally, she chanced to open her eyes and saw that Spot's fingers had caught the ledge. Relief washed over her pretty features, and she moved out on the branch to see if she could help. However, the words that she heard whispered through the room within made her blood run cold.

"It's the headmaster! Mr. Grifton!" The boys were whispering frantically, and Phil froze where she was on the branch. Mr Grifton and his wife ran Crosswinds Orphanage and struck terror in the hearts of all who ended up in their care.

Finally, she managed to regain her composure. "Christopher, get away from the window and don't let him see your things!" She watched him scurry out of her sight, and as she had expected, he caught Mr. Grifton's attention, thus giving Spot the chance to climb up onto the ledge.

"You there." Mr. Grifton's voice was low and cold.

Phil heard her brother reply, his voice trembling, "Y-yes, Sir?" "You were supposed to be in bed two hours ago." Phil could hear the click of the headmaster's shoes as he moved closer to Christopher. Just as her brother trembled with fear, Philippa trembled with rage, and from where he was kneeling on the ledge, Spot was beginning to think that he was going to have to restrain her from leaping into the window and punching the man square in the jaw.

The though made Spot smile. She had fire, this girl. It was a brilliant contrast to most girls he knew who were so meek and.boring! They never would have dared to run away from a place like this, let alone be brave enough to return at whatever cost to save someone else from the same fate. Still, at the same time, it irked him. For the first time, Spot may have finally met his match-and it was a blasted girl! Spot cleared the thoughts from his mind, concentrating now on the goings on inside.

"I-I wadn't sleepy." Christopher said quietly.

"That is no excuse!" Both Phil and Spot could see the shadows cast by the lamp, and Grifton's shadow mimicked him as he raised his hand to strike the boy.

"Stop it!" All fell silent, and all too late, Phil's hand flew up to her mouth.

"You'se done it now!" Spot hissed. He slid further down the ledge to keep out of sight, gesturing that she should try to back further into the shelter of the tree's branches, but there wasn't time for that.

The headmaster had rushed to the window at hearing Phil, and now, seeing her, he sneered. "We meet again, Ms. Grant."

She looked at him with contempt, too angry to be frightened. "I cannot say that it is a pleasure." She spoke haughtily.

He ignored the comment, apparently thinking the opposite. "Now, are you going to come in, or am I going to be forced to come out and get you?"

Phil made a feeble attempt at reaching toward the window and told him in her sweetest voice, "Its too far." She knew that for him and his wife to get what they wanted, she and Christopher were required to be safely in their care. "I'll go to the front and you can let me in."

"You'll run off."

Phil became indignant. "I will not. You have my brother, and I will not leave him again. Besides, even if I do, you will be no worse off than you were before. Do you really think you could climb into this tree?"

Some of the boys inside snickered at the thought. Grifton, in spite of his intimidating presence, was not a man in the best of shape. He was a large man in his mid-forties, and the thought of him trying to jump into the tree to catch Philippa was quite comical.

Phil started on down the base of the tree, knowing that Grifton would already be heading anxiously downstairs to the front door. She caught Spot's eye and knew that he understood that she was entrusting her brother to his care. She would play the decoy, giving them the chance to escape. She climbed down the tree, taking her precious time to reach the front door of the building. She had to pretend that she was giving in.

Her mind was racing. She felt confident that her brother would be alright in Spot's care, but how would she get out of there again? She followed Grifton quietly, pretending to be all meek and submissive, while her eyes darted about for a chance of escape. Her gaze fell upon a door that had been left slightly ajar. She recognized it as the door to the 'Isolation Room'. They had kept her there the first week she had been sent there. It was a room with no windows-no way to escape until the came and unlocked the door.

Grifton delayed his steps until his pace matched Philippa's, and he placed a hand on the back of her neck. Out of the corner of her eye, the girl could see the master key that dangled carelessly out of his pants pocket. The headmaster was quite distracted with rambling on delightedly about catching her again. "Of course, we will call the authorities first thing in the morning." However, Philippa could care less about the plans he and his wife had for dipping their grubby hands into the considerable sum left for the care of her brother and herself.

She seized her opportunity and brought her foot up swiftly only to kick him in the shin with all her might. He yelped in pain, and Phil's fingers circled the key, and she slipped it from his pocket, hoping that she was a better thief this time than when she'd stolen the apple that resulted in her meeting Spot earlier. Then, she dashed back through the corridor and into the Isolation Room.

She waited, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest as she closed her eyes, waiting for Grifton to come in after her, praying that her plans would work. Grifton eventually came huffing into the room, snarling, "You little brat!" He had not seemed to notice that she had the key.

For a moment, Phil was frozen there, huddled in a corner of the room, and then she remembered Christopher and just had to try. He ran at her, and using her petite 5'2" build as an advantage over Grifton's bulking form, the girl ducked under his arms, ran from the room, and closed the door behind her.

"That won't keep me for long, You Stupid Girl!" He snorted, as she locked the door just in time. "I have the-." She could hear him yelling and cursing as she walked out the front door. "I'll get you for this, you little wench!"