Free Alchemy and Meggy Swann by Karen Cushman

clustered along the walls and at the doors of the church itself. She peeped into windows of establishments marked with the signs of the Brazen Serpent and the Green Dragon, the White Lion, the Queen's Arms, and the Blazing Star, betokening bookshops teeming with news sheets and broadsides, printed books, hornbooks for children, and illustrations of hair-raising wonders.
    The street called Paul's Chain boasted large houses and shops, but in the alley the shops were smaller, the street narrower and dirtier, and the crowds less. Even on this warm day it was gloomy and dank, pitted with mud holes where garbage and fresh sewage puddled.
    The shutters were open on a tiny shop with an even tinier stall in front. Ballads and other broadsides were pasted on every surface and lined its shelves.
    She peeked inside, where there were more shelves crowded with stacks of paper, boxes, racks, and mysterious stuffed leather bags on the ends of sticks, the purpose of which Meggy could not imagine, unless they were for small boys to beat each other with.
    And in the center of the shop was a wooden table topped with a great levered screw. It looked to Meggy to be an instrument of torture, likely to press a man into a shadow and squeeze the vinegar right out of him. "I do believe it a fiendish device for punishment," she said aloud.
    "Nay, 'tis a hand press, for printing," said a man come out of the shop with his hands full of papers. "Writing without a pen—or perhaps with many pens at once."
    "Go to! Be you a wizard?" she asked.
    He smiled. "Nay, mistress, merely the printer. Do you wish to buy a ballad? Or to have one printed?"
    Meggy shook her head. "I am but passing on my way to Master Pomfret's."
    "In faith, you have not heard? Master Pomfret died a sevennight ago and was carried toes up to the churchyard at Paul's."
    "Ye toads and vipers!" said Meggy, pushing her hair back from her damp, hot face. "Then I am come all this way for naught."
    "Come in and rest a moment," the printer said, "afore making your journey back. And we might find some cool ale to share. I have no business that cannot wait."
    Meggy nodded her thanks, and a question bubbled up. "Why are you here and not with the houses and shops nearer St. Paul's, which are finer and crowded with customers?"
    "I would wish to be at Paul's, where business is better and customers richer, but shops be cheaper here."
    Meggy looked about her at the dark and muddy street, the sagging houses, and the puddles of slop and rubbish. "I doubt not that it is cheaper," she said. "'Tis a wonder people are not paid to live here."
    The printer barked a laugh as he showed Meggy into the shop and pulled up a stool for her. At that moment a child toddled over. Lifting the wee girl into the air, the printer said, "This is my Gilly. Is she not fine? Have you ever seen a more splendid child than my Gillyflower?" He bent his head and blew kisses in her neck, which made the child wriggle and laugh.
    Meggy felt a stab of sadness and envy. This is a father, she thought. Master Peevish had never touched her and certainly did not think her splendid. He did not even know her name.
    Gilly swung her strong, sturdy legs in delight. Meggy remembered being that young, but crooked and in pain. She felt a touch of pity and tenderness for the lame little Meggy she had once been. She reached out to tickle Gilly's bare toes and was rewarded with a tiny laugh. "Do you like ginger cakes?" Meggy asked the girl.
    Gilly stuffed most of her little fist into her mouth and nodded.
    "Next penny I have to spend, I shall spend on ginger cakes and bring you one."
    Gilly took her hand from her mouth and with it, all sticky and wet, touched Meggy's cheek.
    Meggy wabbled home empty-handed, aching and tired but feeling warm inside from the printer's kindness and Gilly's touch. The warmth survived even Master Peevish's displeasure at the loss of Master Pomfret and the mysterious worm condenser.
    After such a day, Meggy slept deeply, dreaming