Sweepings of the Street [EXCERPT]

Chapter 3: Disguise

"Thomas, do you have those trousers from the farm, or do I?" Mother called from her room. She knelt by her trunk, while Sarah and Thomas rooted through their own. It had been three days since Father had introduced his scheme, and Sarah would begin work as an apprenticed chimney sweeper the next day.

"I don't think I do," Thomas replied.

Sarah nudged him. "It's a wonder you find anything in that mess."

He rolled his eyes. "Why don't you organize my section, then, if you care so much?"

"Perhaps I shall."

"Here they are," said Mother, coming into their room and handing Sarah the trousers. "They may be a bit large on you, but we'll manage."

"I have the rest." Thomas handed Sarah a bundle of clothing. "What name are you to use?"

"Sam," said Sarah. She'd decided on an alias that was common, easy to say, and not too different from her given name. "Sam Lee."

She spread out the clothes on her bed: a white button-up shirt, brown trousers, and a tan waistcoat, all well-worn. Sarah tried on the outfit. The shirt sleeves were just long enough that a single fold brought the cuffs even with Sarah's wrists. The trousers fit well about the waist, but Sarah had to hoist them up to avoid treading on the hems.

"No matter," said Mother. "I can raise the hems a few inches if needed."

"I'll need a hat to hide my hair," said Sarah.

Thomas scrutinized her with furrowed brows. "I reckon you would do better to cut it."

Sarah flinched from him, clutching her hair. "No!" Disguising herself was one thing, but cutting her hair would make the change too permanent for her liking. At Thomas' look of surprise, she fumbled for justification. "The neighbors from church know I'm female," she explained. "If my disguise is to be believed, I ought to be seen as a girl at church and as a boy at work."

Thomas nodded, frowning in thought. "That makes sense. Then you must be careful to secure whatever hat you use."

"Of course," said Sarah, relieved.

Mother folded the hems of Sarah's trousers so that they ended properly at the ankles. "Thomas, do you still have that flat cap you used on the farm? It should do to hide her hair."

"Here it is," said Thomas, fishing out the cap from his section of their trunk and handing it to Sarah.

Weeks without washing had left her hair greasy and snarled, and Sarah untangled it with difficulty before braiding it. Then she curled the braid around her head and pressed the cap over it. It was large enough to conceal the bulge of the hidden braid. She turned to Thomas and lowered the pitch of her voice as she said, "Well, how do I look?"

"Like a strapping young lad," said Thomas, a faint grin playing upon his face. "No, truly. You look and sound like a boy."

"I'm—" Sarah stopped and cleared her throat. "I'm glad to hear it, I suppose."

"And you're still using Thomas' old shoes, are you not?" said Mother. "So we needn't worry about that."

"Aye, I am."

Sarah stood up and smoothed her wrinkled shirt, glad for the first time that at twelve years old her chest was still perfectly flat.

"I reckon I'll be far cleaner than the other sweepers," she said with a throaty laugh.

Thomas grinned again. "I ought to start addressing you as my brother." Then he lowered his voice, his expression turning grave. "You know, you don't have to do this."