MONDAY EVENING,
OCTOBER 2, 1871
- Poppy’s Nice-Girl Dress -
Poppy patted the pocket on her old pinafore dress where she had slipped the matchbox of wax. How smart she’d been to leave her shoe inside the jewelry shop—a perfect excuse to go back, remove the key from inside the back door, and make a quick impression in the wax. She was as fast as greased lightning and replaced the key before anyone even knew she’d touched it.
Justin’s father treated me like dirt, sending me away from his highfalutin store. Well, he’ll be sorry when I get inside and help myself to whatever I want—like those sparkly jewels. I felt like I was in a dream when I saw them, ’cept they were real. Maybe those jewels are magical and they can get me away from Chicago! And I’ll never have to steal anything again.
She grinned. Ma would be proud of me if she knew I have an impression for a key to that shop. But I’ll never let her know. She’d keep it all and I’d end up with a bag of penny candy.
“Poppy! Poppy!” Justin called after her. “Are you listening?”
“What?” she answered crossly, coming to a stop.
“I asked you if you’d like to go to my house. My sister, Claire, made pastries today.” Justin glanced at Poppy. “So do you want to come? It’s not too far. Just a couple of miles.”
Poppy shrugged. “I guess so. She’ll probably throw me out, too.”
“She won’t. Come on.” He had leashed his goat and was heading for the street. “I hope you’re not scared of my father.”
Poppy followed along in a grumpy pout. “I ain’t a-scared of anyone.” She stopped and looked Justin straight in the eye. “Your dad don’t want me in his store ’cause I’m a street girl from Conley’s Patch. Right?”
Justin turned away from her gaze. “Well, he does have real important people coming to his shop.”
A woman stopped to pet Ticktock and asked her name.
“Ticktock—like a clock,” Justin answered. “My dad’s the watchmaker and jeweler on State Street.”
“I know that place. I’ve heard your father is an excellent jeweler and watchmaker,” the woman commented. “And I remember your grandfather, too, when he ran the shop. I hear he’s retired and moved out to the prairie.” She patted Ticktock again. “What a delightful little kid—and what a charming name for your goat.” The woman waved good-bye.
How come people treat Justin—and even his goat—better than they treat me? Poppy wondered as they started walking again. She glanced at her faded, worn dress with a hole under the arm. Everyone can tell I’m a nobody. Even my mother didn’t want me. Poppy kicked a stone off the wooden sidewalk. And here I am, going off to Justin’s house. His sister will probably go plumb crazy when she sees me tagging along.
Still, Justin showed me the jewels. I don’t think he’d do that for everybody. I think he likes me—kind of.
Poppy suddenly felt sad. Here she had made a wax of the key so she could return and rob the store. Justin would be mad if he ever found out … and he wouldn’t like me anymore.
They hadn’t talked much during the long walk and already they were turning onto a driveway. Justin pointed out his house. “It’s this white one. We’ll take Ticktock to the side where I keep her, and then I’ll bring you inside to meet my sister and my mother, too.”
They walked up the driveway and into the side yard.
“I’m not goin’ in,” said Poppy. “I’ll wait outside with your goat.”
Justin ignored her as he unlatched the gate into the goat’s pen. “Take a look at Ticktock’s shed. My father and Charlie helped me build it.” He unleashed his goat, who ran to a pail of water next to the shack.
Poppy took in a quick breath when she saw the neat red and white shed. It even had a window and a real door! She peeked inside to see a pile of fresh hay and a quilt folded on a shelf. A bucket with brushes was on another shelf. “I ain’t never seen a goat house before. I’m thinkin’ that goats have it better than some people.”
Justin took out a large brush from the bucket inside the shed and began brushing Ticktock’s bristly coat. The goat rubbed against the brush, then nudged Justin gently with her head. When he had finished, Justin stood and crossed his arms on his chest. “So what do you think about goats for pets now that you’ve seen my kid?”
Poppy had to agree that Ticktock was rather sweet, the way she trotted alongside Justin. “I’ll allow that goats do make good pets—and pretty lucky ones, too, to have a house of their own and someone to care for them.” She watched as Ticktock looked up at Justin, watching his every move and following him wherever he went. “She likes you a lot.”
“Yep, she does.” Justin bent down and hugged the goat. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you, Ticktock?” The goat nuzzled Justin’s face and neck and nibbled on his hair. Justin laughed and pushed her away.
Poppy couldn’t help laughing, too. “I heard goats eat anything. Looks like she wants to eat you!”
“Justin!” someone called from the house. “Are you coming in? Are we going to meet your friend?”
“It’s my sister, Claire. She always wants me to introduce new friends.”
Poppy cringed at the word “introduce.” What did he mean? What should she do? Shake hands? Curtsy? No one had taught her how to be introduced. “No, I’ve got to go home,” she said.
Claire came down the front steps of the house and walked to the pen. “Hello,” she said, putting out her hand. “I’m Justin’s sister, Claire. What is your name, dear?”
“I’m Poppy,” Poppy replied, taking Claire’s hand.
“Poppy … ?” Claire waited for Poppy’s last name.
“Um. Brennan.”
“Won’t you come in?” Claire asked. “Justin knows I made pastries for a church fair this weekend—and there’s plenty to spare.”
Poppy allowed herself to be coaxed inside to a large, round oak table in the center of the kitchen. Another woman was stirring what smelled like chicken soup on the stove.
“This is our mother, Mrs. Butterworth,” Claire said. “Mother, this is Justin’s friend, Poppy Brennan. She came to visit.”
Mrs. Butterworth took a quick look at Poppy from head to foot, and Poppy was sickeningly aware of her soiled dress and pinafore, the rip under her armpit, and the shoes that didn’t quite match.
“Please excuse my appearance, Mrs. Butterworth,” Poppy said. “All my clothes are at the laundry.” She smiled, showing her teeth as Ma Brennan had taught her. That smile will charm anyone, Ma always said.
“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Butterworth and Claire exchanged glances. “Perhaps Claire can help you out. You have some things that you’ve outgrown that might fit Poppy, don’t you? Since her clothes are all at the laundry?”
“Why, yes, I do, as a matter of fact. There’s a sweet dress that might just fit you.”
Poppy couldn’t speak. A dress? For me?
“Come with me, dear,” Claire said, taking Poppy’s hand. “I think you’d look wonderful in that dress.” She guided Poppy out of the kitchen and into the hall.
Mrs. Butterworth said, “While you try the dress, I’ll set out some of Claire’s pastries.”
Poppy followed Claire to a bedroom off the hall. Poppy stood in awe at the shiny brass bed, covered with a pure white spread. The late afternoon sun glistened through the windowpanes, casting a mellow light on a hand-braided rug. On the windowsill were several rocks.
“You collect jewel rocks too?” Poppy asked.
“Yes, I have a small collection. I love to see the shiny sparklers tucked inside.” Claire took a rock from the sill and handed it to Poppy. “See this gem?” She pointed to a dark green crystal that was part of the rock. “This is tourmaline. It came from Maine.”
Poppy held the stone in the sunlight. “There’s a green rainbow inside.”
“Yes. It collects the sunbeams and shines them back in pretty colors,” Claire said as she set the rock back on her windowsill.
Claire then opened a maple chest at the foot of her bed and pulled out a forest green dress made of some soft, warm material. The collar and sleeves were trimmed with a heavy crocheted lace. “This was a dress my grandmother made for me, when I was about your size. I always loved it.” Claire held the dress up to Poppy. “Oh, yes, this will fit, I’m sure.”
Poppy’s hands shook as she touched the downy fabric. “This is right … grand.” Was she supposed to pay for the dress? Or were they giving it to her? Why? They didn’t even know her.
“Take off your pinafore, and then I’ll help you with your dress,” Claire said.
Poppy undid the pinafore and felt the box of wax, which was still deep in the pocket. She put the pinafore carefully on the bed so the box would not fall out.
Claire undid the few buttons that closed the back of Poppy’s bodice, and her unsightly dress dropped to the floor. As Poppy stepped out of it, Claire picked it up warily and tossed it aside. Then she slipped the green gown over Poppy’s head, buttoned the back, and straightened the skirt. “Oh, Poppy! It’s a perfect fit. And to think I was about to send it down to the church fair tomorrow.”
Poppy turned to look in the tall mirror that stood by the bureau, but Claire pulled her away. “No, don’t look at yourself yet.” Claire took a wide-toothed ivory comb and a green ribbon from the dresser drawer, and after combing Poppy’s hair until it was smooth over her shoulders, she tied it back with the ribbon. “Now see yourself in the mirror, Poppy. You look lovely!”
The girl in the mirror was a stranger—a pretty, good-girl kind of stranger. Not Poppy, the pickpocket. Suddenly Poppy swung around. “Are you giving me this dress?”
“Of course!”
“Why?” Poppy demanded. “Is this a trick?”
“Why would I trick you?”
“You just now met me and you’re giving me this dress. There’s got to be a catch to it somewhere,” she said accusingly. She ripped the ribbon from her hair and tossed it onto the bed.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Claire said. “Take the dress off and I’ll put it away with the other things for the fair.”
Poppy looked at her image in the mirror again. A nice dress doesn’t make me a nice girl, does it? I’m still Poppy, the pickpocket.
Suddenly she felt tears filling her eyes and overflowing down her cheeks. “Don’t you understand?” she whimpered. “You don’t even know me.”
“Don’t cry, Poppy. I’m sorry I upset you. And you’re right. We just met and this is probably overwhelming.” Claire put her arms around Poppy. “There, there. Don’t cry.”
Poppy dropped her head onto Claire’s shoulder until her tears and sobs were finished.