Odds and ends

It was a cold, winter night, in 1918's America. They were in a small farm, not too far from Chicago. There was a storm outside. A blizzard. A little five years old boy and his mother were standing at a window, watching the magnificent storm.

"Mum" the little boy asked "What's that?" He pointed at a small, dark object slowly moving in the storm.

The mother looked. Her eyes widened as she said, "It's a child, Logan!"

"A child?" The boy was confused. He knew the strength in that storm. His father had been killed in a storm much like this that past winter. How could a child survive those winds and not his strong, handsome father?

"Yes, dear. A child. I have to go fetch it." She said as she put on her coat and gloves. She wrapped an old, tattered scarf around her neck and popped into the storm. She came back for a moment. "Stay here." She told Logan firmly. He sighed and prepared for the worst. Anything could happen to his poor mum out there.

About an hour later Mum came back through the old, creaking door on the little, shack like home. Logan was fast asleep on the ground in the kitchen. "Logan, dear. Wake up." She said softly. His reply was a simple moan. He didn't plan on awakening any time soon. The young widow smiled at her child. A small girl emerged from behind the woman's coat. The girl way very young, about Logan's age. Her clothes where expensive for those times, but torn. She was dirty mad her face stained with tears. "T-thank you m-miss." The girl mumbled, shivering.

The woman smiled. "You're welcome, dear."

"So what's your name, miss?" The girl asked politely.

"Jewel Peters, but you may call me Mum if you'd like. And your name, dear?"

"Annette Johnston." The girl smiled proudly.

"Well nice to meet you, Miss Johnston."

They walked into Logan's small bedroom. Mum set the girl on the bed and left the room. Annette was asleep before the lamp was out.