the buildings, making sure to keep well within the shadows. This part of the town was somehow sturdier, cleaner, respectable, and she felt altogether different when she was here.

Like we used to be, she thought, before Papa died. No sooner had the sentiment crossed her mind, than Salome resolutely squashed it firmly. She had learned that it did no good to dwell on the past.

Reaching her destination, she struggled to raise one of the heavy doors of a spacious rootcellar. She had discovered the broken hasp several weeks ago, and ferret-like, had been unable to resist the temptation to explore. Who knew what might lie in the dark room? Mam could sell most anything.

She had been disappointed then to find that the root cellar held only, well, roots, what else?

But there had been another welcome discovery. A trapdoor leading upward into the building. She had been taking advantage of it for some time now. But, only for food. No sense having the owner catch on that someone had been inside. He might have that hasp fixed, and then the free feeds would stop.

She smiled. Ever since she'd had at least one square meal a day, she'd plumped up a bit. Her body wasn't nearly as boney, and when she'd glanced at her reflection in a window or a pond, she saw her cheeks beginning to bloom.

Right! she laughed. Like that was going to do her any good. She couldn't even go to the posh street around front to see what this place was! She was a street urchin and urchins weren't treated very well in this part of town.

Scrambling up the ladder, she pushed up on the trapdoor, opening it enough to squeeze into the kitchen.

She had just cut a slice of bread and bit off a hunk of cheese when she was startled by the noise of the kitchen door banging against the wall.

"I knew it was too good to last," she mumbled mournfully.