Free The Great Trouble by Deborah Hopkinson Page B

brought out a small basket that had been sitting at his feet in the cart. He opened it and held out a bottle of ginger beer and a large meat pie.
    “I can’t eat till the end of the day in this job, but then I gets so hungry I can’t make it home without a nibble,” Charlie admitted with a grin. “My wife packed more than enough. So here—you’ve earned it, lad.”
    I’m sure my eyes were as round as saucers by that point. And when I took my first bite of that flaky crust, I didn’t think a meal had ever tasted so good.
    After Charlie left, I tiptoed up the stairs at 40 Broad Street. As I was about to knock, I looked over at the door to the room Annie Ribbons shared with her parents and baby sister, Fanny. I hadn’t seen Annie since yesterday. I wonderedif the Lewises had decided to leave, as so many other families had. At least Charlie and I hadn’t had to go in there.
    Florrie opened the door and stuffed her little sketchbook back into her apron pocket. She stuck her pencil into the top of one braid. “Where have you been? I thought you’d come by earlier.”
    “I’ve been helping the coffin man,” I said. Then I closed my mouth. That was all I would say. I could never tell Florrie, or Henry, or anyone, what I had seen and heard and done.
    Dilly pushed past Florrie and flopped at my feet, grinning the way dogs do. Her tail thumped wildly on the worn wooden floorboards with a loud swishing noise. “Quiet, girl,” I said, scratching her ears.
    “How … how are they?” I whispered.
    “I don’t know. It’s awful scary, Eel. They’re sleeping now, even Betsy,” Florrie said. “I never seen the cholera before.”
    “How about your family?”
    “For now, everyone’s fine. Nancy’s out helping neighbors, same as me. Pa’s working. Danny brought over some meat pies Mum made.” Florrie paused to take a sip of water from a jug. “My mother ain’t so good with sickness herself. Just faints away and is no help to anyone.”
    Mrs. Griggs stirred and moaned.
    “I’ve made up my mind, Florrie. I’ve decided to ask Dr. Snow to come see Bernie and Mrs. Griggs. He’s been outon doctor business all day. But I’m going there tonight,” I promised. “And I’ll sleep in the shed if he’s not there. I won’t let him leave in the morning until he hears me out. He’ll help them, I know he will.”
    “Will you still ask him to help you with Mr. Huggins?”
    “It’s too late,” I said, shaking my head. “Mr. Huggins won’t believe anything I say now. I can’t go back. Besides, this is more important.”
    “Everything is different now, ain’t it?” said Florrie softly. “It’s like the whole world changed.”
    Florrie glanced over at Betsy, who lay curled up a bit apart from her mother and brother. Betsy’s cheeks were flushed from the heat. At least she still looked healthy and pink, not blue and pale. Maybe Betsy would be lucky.
    Florrie patted the sketchbook in her pocket. “I’m not sure if it was the proper thing to do, but I made some drawings of Bernie and Mrs. Griggs today. If the worst does happen, Betsy will have something to remind her of the way they looked.”
    “The worst won’t happen,” I said fiercely. “It can’t.”
    The stillness was suddenly broken by an odd sound. I realized it was coming from me. The meat pie had been so delicious it had made me hungry for more.
    “That’s your stomach,” said Florrie, stifling a smile.
    She went to a basket by the wall and took out a slice of bread, spread thick with butter. “Danny brought this too. I can’t eat it,” she said. “You take it.”
    “Thanks.”
    Dilly stared up at me with soft, begging eyes. I broke off a piece, and she snapped it out of the air. Florrie grinned. “No wonder they call you Eel. You’re as thin as one.”
    She gestured to a bucket in the corner. “Want some water?”
    I shook my head. “No, thanks. The coffin man just gave me a ginger beer.”
    “Lucky you. Ginger beer is my