Read Online Bread and Roses, Too by Katherine Paterson - Free Book Online
Authors: Katherine Paterson
Tags: Ages 9 and up
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guy?"
"What do you mean, 'What guy?' I got up to get a drink of water and nearly tripped over him. Scared the life out of me. Come on, Rosa. You know who I mean—the boy that smells like a canal, who's lying right now on our kitchen floor."
"Oh, him."
"Yes,
him.
You let him in?"
She nodded, not daring to look Anna in the face, even in the dark.
"Did you? Then you must know who he is."
"He's—" Oh, dear, she still didn't know his name. "It's uh ... Fred—from school."
"Well get Fred or whatever his name is out of here fast."
"I can't. He's got no place to go. He'd freeze to death outside."
"Heaven help us, you're right. Well, get him out of here before Mamma wakes up and catches him, understand?" She sighed. "Now go back to sleep, but make sure—"
"I will. You, too."
"How can I go back to sleep? My heart is pounding like a beater on a loom. Such a fright!"
"I'm sorry, okay? I'll get him out early."
"Be sure you do."
But she slept so late, Mamma was pinching her toes and telling her she'd be tardy for school. She sat up quickly. Granny and the little boys were already up and out of the room. She must have slept terribly late. Oh, dear—the boy. She'd promised Anna she'd get him out before Mamma got up.
"Your little rat come again last night," Mamma said as if reading her mind.
"My—what?" Had Mamma seen him, then?
"In and out in the dead of night, taking the last of the bread along."
She couldn't speak. Why was Mamma calling him
her
rat?
"Only this time," Mamma smiled broadly, "he leave a penny behind. Some rat, huh?"
Rosa just lay there blinking in the still-dark room.
"Up, up, Rosina, get yourself up now and run down to the baker and get us some new bread before you go off to school, okay?"
Rosa dressed quickly. Mamma pressed three pennies into her hand. "Tell Mr. Cavacco we good for the rest soon as we win this strike, okay?"
Rosa did as she was told, even though her face felt flushed and she couldn't look directly at Mr. Cavacco when she gave him the three pennies and asked for the other two cents to be put on account. She knew Mamma was trying to stretch out her last pay envelope as long as possible. Mr. Cavacco didn't argue. He took a little notebook from his drawer, pushed his glasses up on his forehead, licked his tiny stub of a pencil, and wrote down carefully on the page headed MRS . SERUTTI : "January 17, 2 cents due."
When she brought the new loaf home, it was greeted with squeals of delight. Mamma got the big knife and cut nine thin, perfectly straight slices, coated each one with a smear of molasses, and passed seven of them to the waiting household. She took the two soft slices from the middle of the loaf and cut one of them up into tiny squares for Ricci. He stuffed a handful into his mouth and chewed the bread with a look of serious determination. Mamma smiled at him, leaving her own slice untouched in case the baby needed it as well.
He needs milk.
Rosa's heart hurt for her brother. When she was small, she'd had milk almost every day. Back when Papa was alive.
There was another parade that day, and there was, as Miss Finch had predicted, some violence. The strikers threw ice at the militia, and the militia retaliated by beating the strikers with the backs of their swords. "Nobody was hurt, little Rosa," Mamma said. "Stop your worry. Your mamma and Anna are fine. You should see that girl. When anybody raise their gun, she wrap that big flag all around her. They don' dare shoot the flag, those Harvard boys!" Mamma laughed.
There was an even better parade on Thursday. Mr. Marad, who had a dye shop on Oak Street, led it with his big Syrian band. "Oh, it was very grand," Mamma said. "Best band yet."
Then the very next day, the police got a tip. There was dynamite stored in Mr. Marad's shop. They raided it and, sure enough, found the dynamite. Mr. Marad protested that he had no idea how it got there. Joe Ettor swore that the mill owners had paid someone to plant it and then blame it
"What do you mean, 'What guy?' I got up to get a drink of water and nearly tripped over him. Scared the life out of me. Come on, Rosa. You know who I mean—the boy that smells like a canal, who's lying right now on our kitchen floor."
"Oh, him."
"Yes,
him.
You let him in?"
She nodded, not daring to look Anna in the face, even in the dark.
"Did you? Then you must know who he is."
"He's—" Oh, dear, she still didn't know his name. "It's uh ... Fred—from school."
"Well get Fred or whatever his name is out of here fast."
"I can't. He's got no place to go. He'd freeze to death outside."
"Heaven help us, you're right. Well, get him out of here before Mamma wakes up and catches him, understand?" She sighed. "Now go back to sleep, but make sure—"
"I will. You, too."
"How can I go back to sleep? My heart is pounding like a beater on a loom. Such a fright!"
"I'm sorry, okay? I'll get him out early."
"Be sure you do."
But she slept so late, Mamma was pinching her toes and telling her she'd be tardy for school. She sat up quickly. Granny and the little boys were already up and out of the room. She must have slept terribly late. Oh, dear—the boy. She'd promised Anna she'd get him out before Mamma got up.
"Your little rat come again last night," Mamma said as if reading her mind.
"My—what?" Had Mamma seen him, then?
"In and out in the dead of night, taking the last of the bread along."
She couldn't speak. Why was Mamma calling him
her
rat?
"Only this time," Mamma smiled broadly, "he leave a penny behind. Some rat, huh?"
Rosa just lay there blinking in the still-dark room.
"Up, up, Rosina, get yourself up now and run down to the baker and get us some new bread before you go off to school, okay?"
Rosa dressed quickly. Mamma pressed three pennies into her hand. "Tell Mr. Cavacco we good for the rest soon as we win this strike, okay?"
Rosa did as she was told, even though her face felt flushed and she couldn't look directly at Mr. Cavacco when she gave him the three pennies and asked for the other two cents to be put on account. She knew Mamma was trying to stretch out her last pay envelope as long as possible. Mr. Cavacco didn't argue. He took a little notebook from his drawer, pushed his glasses up on his forehead, licked his tiny stub of a pencil, and wrote down carefully on the page headed MRS . SERUTTI : "January 17, 2 cents due."
When she brought the new loaf home, it was greeted with squeals of delight. Mamma got the big knife and cut nine thin, perfectly straight slices, coated each one with a smear of molasses, and passed seven of them to the waiting household. She took the two soft slices from the middle of the loaf and cut one of them up into tiny squares for Ricci. He stuffed a handful into his mouth and chewed the bread with a look of serious determination. Mamma smiled at him, leaving her own slice untouched in case the baby needed it as well.
He needs milk.
Rosa's heart hurt for her brother. When she was small, she'd had milk almost every day. Back when Papa was alive.
There was another parade that day, and there was, as Miss Finch had predicted, some violence. The strikers threw ice at the militia, and the militia retaliated by beating the strikers with the backs of their swords. "Nobody was hurt, little Rosa," Mamma said. "Stop your worry. Your mamma and Anna are fine. You should see that girl. When anybody raise their gun, she wrap that big flag all around her. They don' dare shoot the flag, those Harvard boys!" Mamma laughed.
There was an even better parade on Thursday. Mr. Marad, who had a dye shop on Oak Street, led it with his big Syrian band. "Oh, it was very grand," Mamma said. "Best band yet."
Then the very next day, the police got a tip. There was dynamite stored in Mr. Marad's shop. They raided it and, sure enough, found the dynamite. Mr. Marad protested that he had no idea how it got there. Joe Ettor swore that the mill owners had paid someone to plant it and then blame it
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