Read Online Bowery Girl by Kim Taylor - Free Book Online Page B

most?” Hermione coughed, deep and racking, and took a graying handkerchief from her waistband. Once the spasm subsided, she dabbed the edge of her lips.
    â€œI ain’t scared of nothing.”
    Hermione waved a hand in front of her eyes. “You don’t have a coin or two to give an old lady?”
    â€œI got nothing. I told you.”
    â€œGo now, and leave me to the sweet day. I’ll trust you to bring me something, when you’re of a mind to remember the entertainments of a mad old woman.”

HESTER STREET
    F RIDAY. ANYTHING YOU WANTED for any price you could pay. Potatoes, apples, and tin cups were piled nearly as high as the sky. Chickens and geese hung fat in windows. The aroma of fresh baked bread was thick. Fish of every sort, eyes blank pink-and-black, gazed at passersby. Planks of wood were set atop ash barrels, and overturned crates served as makeshift shops. At one stall alone, a person could buy cigars, hard lemon candy, sour milk edging from the top of metal pails, and a pair of (only) twice-mended socks.
    Above the crowd that bought and sold, women leaned from windows and called to friends on the street. The sun had returned to the Lower East Side, and though the snow had melted and puddled between the cobblestones, no one minded it, because the light held such promise. The thought of spring made people slightly giddy: They laughed and bargained and strolled and daydreamed.
    Though Mollie wanted to sit in the sun that angled across the cement, she chose instead the darker shadows. A safe place from which to watch.
    Mollie knew she’d hurt Annabelle. She decided—since Annabelle continued to harp about reading—to pinch a book for her. Something simple, with small words and big letters.
    A bookseller by the name of Schmidt had set up shop directly in front of Mollie’s stoop. He puttered back and forth, arranging and rearranging, and muttering to himself. He was a squat man, in a cropped brown coat. His round glasses magnified his eyes, which made him seem both surprised and innocent at the same time.
    â€œWhat time ya got?” Mollie asked him.
    Schmidt pulled out a pocket watch and snapped open the case. He frowned, and then pushed his glasses up his nose, leaving a greasy thumbprint on the left lens. “Twenty past eleven. No—twenty-two past eleven.” He closed the watch.
    â€œGot any kid’s books over there?”
    â€œI might have. Let me see. . . .”
    She’d let him point them out to her; she’d wait then for his back to be turned and she’d step up and take a book or two. Slide them into one of the long pockets of her coat. She thought she’d even smile at him as she departed.
    A woman with kid gloves walked toward Schmidt’s stand. She wore a dove-gray skirt and overcoat, both of fine wool, and held a basket filled with bread and flowers, which she set on a stack of books.
    Mollie took a breath. It was that woman who had stolen all the bathtubs and replaced them with useless classes. It was the rich bitch who had asked Mollie if she was a good thief and then smirked when Mollie said she was. Well, it was time to show the woman a thing or two.
    The woman pulled a sheaf of papers from under the loaves. “May I leave flyers here?” she asked Schmidt. “New classes.” A small silk change purse swung from her wrist as she handed him the papers.
    â€œMiss DuPre.” Schmidt bowed from his thick waist and peered around the thumbprint on his glasses. “I have the perfect book for you. The Faerie Queen . Spenser. I’ve saved it especially for you. There was a gentleman came by a moment ago wanting it, but I said, ‘No. This book is reserved.’”
    Miss DuPre laughed. “You’ll make me poor with your books.”
    â€œOh, I think not, Miss DuPre. And I’ll set the flyers right here, up front for everyone to see.”
    Mollie stood and stretched. Oh, how nice her boots