I'm doing spring (ah, winter?) cleaning.
"Thank you, sir!" Emma chirped, handing her last paper to the portly gentlemen with a kindly looking face and very ugly hat. As he waddled away with his newspaper under one arm, Emma stretched her arms lazily above her head. She was pleased, having finished ahead of schedule. Though she loved to read the news, Emma didn't bother saving her last paper. Some Newsie was bound to come home with an extra copy they didn't want, and Emma could take theirs.
Taking a look around her, the newsie was about to head back to her room at the Lodging House for a quick snooze, when an unwanted voice accosted her ears.
"Emma?" the good mood she had been basking in evaporated upon hearing the voice that rose from the crowd.
Not Davey she thought, wincing. The boy on his own was alright she supposed. A great deal better then he had previously been, anyhow. Emma had to give Jack credit on this one, the cowboy had done wonders.
And she really liked Les. The little tyke was growing into quite a newsie. His plucky courage made him quite a favorite all around, and he sold well. He'd even become quite good at the cheeky, sometimes brash, banter that the newsboys were so well known for, much to Sarah's chagrin.
Sarah. There was the problem, the reason that David's voice made her flinch, and strike fear deep into the Brooklyn-born Newsie's heart. Logically, Emma knew that Sarah was trying to be nice. She did try to be patient with the doily-making burden on society. In all honesty, though, Emma couldn't stand the proper young lady that Sarah strove to be.
"Yeah?" was all she said, blinking away the dark thoughts that Sarah's name brought flocking to her mind.
"Sarah wants to know if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight." David asked, politely.
Of all the diabolical, evil, masterminded plans! Emma couldn't possibly discard this opportunity for a home-cooked meal, particularly Mrs. Jacobs' cooking. She was fairly sure that Sarah knew this fact and was using it against her, making the whole plot devastatingly dastardly. She couldn't go. Not with Sarah there. And yet, how could she deny the wonderful food that would be there. As she wrestled with this dilemma, David shuffled awkwardly on his feet, scuffing at the dusty street.
"And—well—"He stuttered, drawing her from the deep inner turmoil she was trying to sort through.
"Spit it out, Davy, You are the walkin' mouth." She coaxed, interested now that he appeared so uncomfortable.
"Les wants me to tell you—"he paused again looking at her apologetically before plunging ahead, quickly. "That Sarah told him you were a lost soul, and that we should all try to—" now he just looked tired of the whole affair, but had the decency to finger quote the rest "'Lift you from the mire and sin of immodesty.'"
Emma laughed, surprised, and handed the little genius a penny. "Give that to Les, wouldja? I bet him she'd be too well mannered to say anything about it." She pondered this for a moment.
"Perhaps there's hope for Sarah's inner Newsie after all. Tell your mom to set an extra place, Davey, I'll be there." She decided. David nodded, looking as if the entire situation was out of his hands.
"Well, go on!" Emma admonished "You're not selling me anything" she pointed, meaningfully at the small stack of papers the boy had left to sell. Davey nodded, lifted them to his shoulder, and began to walk. He turned about fifty feet away, yelling;
"Oh! Hey, Blink's lookin' for that cap!" He smiled at the devious grin on Emma's mischievous face before continuing on his way.
Pulling the hat firmly down over her head, Emma considered all the fun she would have keeping it away from Kid Blink. Though he was taller then her, Emma had a way of climbing statues and light-poles that made her an exceptional Keep-away player. Oh yes, Blink would be lucky to get his hat back before Racetrack won a bet at Sheep's Head races, a monthly triumph for the obsessed gambler.
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