85. a door that won't stay shut

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Cranleigh

The door opened, again, allowing the frigid December air to blow through the tiny room and the small boy huddled close to the pitiful fire.  A gruff man with a head brushing the rafters said, "We'll feed him, Lucy.  Put a roof over him.  Give him a trade."

Little Johnny did not need to ask who they were speaking of.

"He's only seven."

"And you've other mouths to feed."  

"Fine then," she said, using the corner of her apron to dab at her eyes, "But he must learn his letters."

"Agreed."

"And perhaps a summer visit now and then?"

"Perhaps."


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