“What’s your name,
miss?” the beggar girl asked me as we strolled towards my home.
“My name is Victoria Jensen and I am twelve
years of age, and the daughter of Mister Arthur Jensen and Missus Rosalind
Jensen née Baker,” I explained, forgetting this beggar knew nothing of proper
etiquette and introductions.
“Hmm. My name is Mary Jackson. I’m 8,” the
girl explained.
“Pleased to have your acquaintance, Miss
Mary,” I curtsied.
“Likewise, I’m sure,” Mary repeated what so
many ladies on the street would say to new friends.
I laughed at that. Mary scowled, but kept
walking.
When I reached my home, I opened the front
gate. “Enter, Lady Mary,” I bowed, sillier than ever.
“Victoria, why are you doing this for me?
You’ve never even met me before today!” Mary broke out of her beggar ways.
“Wait, you’re an eight year old beggar, why
are you talking like a proper lady all of the sudden?” I questioned.
“Because I’m not a beggar. My uncle owns the
general store,” she sighed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My uncle says that I should not affiliate
with persons of the upper class. I do so long to be a princess though!” Mary
Jackson complained.
“Well, has your uncle adopted you?” I
questioned the girl.
“No, not properly, miss,” Mary replied.
“Than it won’t be against code for my mother
to attempt to adopt you,” I smiled. I led Mary through the gate, up onto the
porch, and through the front door. “Mother, I’m home! And I’ve found a girl for
you to adopt!” I announced my presence.
“Oh, she’s perfectly lovely!” Mother
proclaimed. “Although she is a bit smelly,” she whispered in my ear.
