Free The Grave Robber's Secret by Anna Myers Page A

parents passed away. She mostly hung around in the business section of town, and could often be seen in the alleys, eating scraps that had been thrown away by taverns. She also begged for food and came to the Hares’ door fairly often. “We’re poor,” Robby remembered his mother saying more than once, “but we aren’t poor enough to ignore starvation in another human being.”
    Jane’s words were often muddled, but she never failed to know each of the Hares. She took one cautious step inside the kitchen, then crossed the floor at almost a run. She stopped short when she looked at Martha. “Oh,” she said, “her hair is like gold. I had a little girl with golden hair.” Her face twisted. “I think I did.” She moved closer to Martha, peering at her intently. “You’re not my little girl, are you?”
    â€œNo,” Martha said in a gentle voice, “I lost my mama, though. Just like you lost your little girl.”
    â€œHere, dear,” Ma said to Jane. “I have a nice warm towel. You can clean your face and hands.” Jane took the cloth and washed, then dropped it on the floor.
    She sat down and watched Ma as she dipped up the hot porridge, and needed no urging to eat when the bowl was in front of her. “You’re kind to me,” she said around her second spoonful. Robby thought Jane seemed more sensible than she often did, but then she added, “I was chased by elephants on the way over here. Did you know there are elephants in Philadelphia?” She did not wait for an answer. “No,” she cocked her head to one side. “I forgot, we aren’t in Philadelphia, are we, Robby?”
    Ma stood close to Jane. “You know,” she said, “if you would let me take you to the Quakers, no elephant could hurt you, and you would not be hungry or dirty again.”
    Jane shook her head wildly. “No, I was in the almshouse, but I escaped. I won’t go back. They hit me and locked me up in a room.”
    â€œYou weren’t at the Quaker house. The people there are much kinder. Do you remember that you told me your mother was a Quaker, and so were you when you were growing up? Do you remember that?”
    Jane looked distressed. “I thought you were my mother.”
    â€œNo, I am but your friend, but I would like to see you with a place to sleep at night.”
    â€œWell, I am glad you aren’t my mother,” Jane whispered, “because I wouldn’t want him to be my father.”
    Robby knew Jane meant his father, who would yell at her to get out if he found her at their table. Jane was daft, all right, daft as she could be, but she had wits enough to dislike Da.
    Jane ate her porridge and a large hunk of bread with butter quickly, all the time staring at Martha. “Can I touch your hair?” she asked.
    Robby could see that Ma was about to protest, but Martha spoke before there was a chance for Ma to say anything. “I’ll come and sit beside you so you can reach me easily.” She stood and moved to sit on the bench on the other side of the table. Jane caressed her hair.
    For a little while no one spoke. “Jane,” Martha said after a bit. “Robby and I would like to take you to the Quakers. Would you hold my hand and walk with us there?”
    â€œIt’s some distance, quite a walk, dear.” Ma had just filled the dishpan with hot water. “Let me take you, Jane. Martha has not been well, and the walk might be too much.”
    Jane drew herself away from Ma. “No, I want to go with this little girl. I think she might be my little girl.”
    â€œNo,” Martha whispered. “I am not your little girl, but I will come to see you often.”
    â€œMartha,” said Ma, “I’m afraid I can’t let you go. Your father is coming back here for a noontide meal. I’ve no desire to be explaining to the man why you ain’t