Chapter 6: "Why I Ought A."

Philippa grinned as she stepped onto the rickety front porch, pocketing the master key since one never knows when something like that could be of use. She stepped into the front lawn, chuckling to herself, but then she felt something wind about her legs. Instantly, she imagined the worst, but when she finally looked down, what she saw made her feel as if she had just grown wings. It was Christopher.

She picked him up and swung him around, causing the little boy to giggle. In their excitement of being rejoined, neither seemed to remember Spot, who was leaning against a tree trunk nearby. Finally, he caught Phil's eye, and she gestured him over. "I couldn't have done this without you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It was nothin', but we ain't finished yet neither. We'se gotta wait for that rich snob to get back, so we can get on outta here."

While they waited, Phil told the both of them of her escape from Mr. Grifton, acting it all out with comic accuracy. She was laughing so hard by the end that she fell back on the ground, still holding Christopher.

"You'se got spunk." Spot admitted, "But what now?"

"What now?" She echoed, sitting up.

Spot nodded, crouching down beside them. "Yeah. Where's ya stayin'? What about food an' what-not? Der's two of yas now."

The girl's face fell. She hadn't thought it through very well. Her only concern had been getting her little brother out of the awful place. "I.I don't know."

Spot looked at Christopher, who was now almost asleep in Philippa's lap. He smiled a bit. "What's his name again?"

"Christopher."

"That ain't no good." Spot held up his hands defensively, chuckling as Phil glared at him. "Well, it ain't! Not if you two is gonna be newsies." Spot blinked, surprised at his own words. This girl a newsie? Still, it really wasn't a bad idea. It was the perfect solution to her problems. He continued, "Its too uppity for a newsie; too hoity-toity, ya know?"

Phil shrugged, looking uncertain. "I.guess." In her arms, Christopher stirred, hearing himself being discussed.

Spot mussed the kid's hair. "How 'bout 'Kit'?" He looked to Christopher for approval. "Ya like dat, Kid? How's about we call ya Kit?" "Yeah!" Christopher sat up, grinning at Spot. Then, he yawned, obviously still near sleep.

Phil shifted as if to stand, and Spot offered his hand to help her up. This time she accepted his help, and he pulled her to her feet. He held her hand within his a bit longer than necessary, but released it when there was the clip-clop of horse's hooves on the cobbled street outside the gate. The headmistress was returning; their cue to get out of there.

"Here, I got him." Spot said taking the newly dubbed Kit from Phil before creeping over to wait against the wall, Phil at his side. When it was opened to allow the carriage back in, the small group slipped out breaking into a run for several blocks, just to make sure they were in the clear. They stopped on a street corner to catch their breath. Spot let Phil take the sleeping four year old from him, then told her the plan. "Its too far for ya to walk all da way to Brooklyn dis late, but the newsies' lodgin' house ain't too far from here."

So, Phil let him lead the way to the lodging house where Jack and most of the other Manhattan newsies stayed during the nights. Upon reaching a wobbly looking fire escape at the side of the building, Spot signaled for her to be quiet. She followed as silently as she could with the steps creaking as she carried the sleeping Kit up to the second story window. She watched Spot tap on the pane with his cane. It was Kid Blink who rushed over to open it.

"Heyas Spot. What can we'se do ya for?"

Spot pushed him aside and climbed into the room, holding his arms out to take Kit from Phil to better allow her to get inside. She handed him to Spot, careful not to wake him, then climbed in after them. "Phil and her brudder need a place ta stay fer a while." Spot explained as he laid Kit down on the nearest unoccupied bed.

Phil hadn't quite grasped that this was what Spot had had in mind. A night, sure, but her pride wouldn't allow for her to dare impose further. "We do not!" She spoke up, causing all eyes to focus on her. Snickering could be heard from some boys through the room. This had the potential of being a fairly good show.

"Whaddaya mean ya don't?" Spot demanded. "Ya said so yaself no more'n ten minutes ago that ya need--."

"I am not in the habit of accepting charity." Phil said coolly, crossing her arms over her chest.

There were more snickers and murmured comments from the newsboys. Many were amazed that someone dared speak in such a manner to Spot Conlon. Others were still more amazed that Spot wasn't doing anything about it.

Spot, far from oblivious of the murmuring around the room, felt his cheeks redden slightly. He knew he needed to do something to maintain his reputation, so he gestured to the window, his voice gruff with anger brought on by his embarrassment. She would make no fool of him! "On da roof- now."

Phil arched a delicate brow at his tone, which was definitely a command verses a request. "I--." She began but stopped, seeing that he didn't plan on taking 'no' as an answer. She groaned, glaring at him. "Oh, fine!"

Haughtily, she brushed past him, hopping gracefully out of the window and onto the fire escape, but as Spot stepped out after her, she glanced back at her brother, who was still asleep.

Jack stepped forward before she could voice any misgivings. "Don'tcha worry none 'bout ya brudder. We'll make sure he's alright. Right, boys?"

"Right." Racetrack was the first to agree. He moved to the window, looking out. "An' if ya needs anything." But the rest of his words were lost because Spot had already ushered her toward the roof.

Some of the boys joined Race at the window, trying to ease their curiosity by eavesdropping, but Jack was quick to steer them away from it, leaving it open just enough so that the pair could let themselves back in when they so chose. "Give 'em their 'privicy'."

When they had reached the roof, Spot looked hard at Philippa. "What are ya thinkin'?!"

"I already told you. Philippa Grant needs no help or charity from anyone." She said in that same cool tone.

"Charity?" Spot looked at her with an expression of disbelief. "It ain't charity! I'se just tryin' ta do somethin' nice!"

Phil gave a toss of her head, setting her jaw firmly. These actions reminded Spot of an untamed pony he had seen one time when he had snuck into a circus. "I thank you for the thought, but I will not be accepting." She told him, hair falling into her face.

Spot threw up his hands in utter exhasperation. "Why do ya gotta be so stubborn?"

"Me?" She threw back at him. "What about you? If anyone is stubborn, its you!"

Both of them had reached boiling point now. They each held in an intense gaze, neither willing to be the first to back down. Obviously, they were equally stubborn-not to mention proud. "Why I ought a."

"What? You ought a what?!" Phil yelled in return.

Spot could take no more of this. That unnervingly stubborn squaring of her jaw, the way wisps of hair fell into her face.In one swift movement, he pulled her close to him and pressed his lips to hers in a sudden, passionate kiss.