was the end of the day and someone would need help. Perhaps there would be a generous merchant who would offer leftover produce to the poor.
The marketplace was quiet; most vendors had already closed their stands. Hannah moved toward a man who had a variety of vegetables left. “Sir, I was wondering if you might need someone to cook or to clean for you.”
He looked at Hannah and she thought compassion softened his gaze. “Sorry, but I got no need.”
Hannah gazed at the carrots and potatoes and considered asking for some. She couldn’t bring herself to beg and moved on.
Just beyond, a man sat on the edge of the street, legs crossed and a cup in front of him. When he saw Hannah, he picked up the cup and held it aloft. “Money for the poor,” he croaked. “I’m crippled and can’t work.”
She glanced inside the tin. There were two coppers resting in the bottom. Hannah couldn’t bring herself to speak; she simply shook her head and walked on.
She approached a woman loading apples into a cart. “Have you any work for me?” she asked. “I’m strong and will work hard.”
“You look puny to me. I need someone with a strong back.”
“I’m much stronger than I look.”
The woman studied Hannah for a long moment, then said, “Nah. I need someone who can be of real help. Besides, I got no money.”
“I . . . I’ll take a bit of food in trade.”
The woman hesitated, and then shook her head. “No. I can sell these tomorrow.” She turned her back on Hannah.
Drawing in a disappointed breath, Hannah’s desperation grew. She felt faint with hunger. Her eyes landed on a display of baked goods. There were several loaves of dark bread. She could walk by quickly and grab one and stuff it beneath her cloak. No one would see. What is one loaf to him, anyway? she reasoned.
Apprehension grew inside Hannah. She’d never stolen anything before. What choice have I?
With her eyes on the prize, she picked up her pace and walked toward the cart. Too frightened to actually take the bread, she walked past and remained empty-handed. She stopped several yards up the street, then turned and looked back. I must do it. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to build her courage.
Again, she ambled toward the stand. This time when she moved by, she grabbed a loaf and quickly concealed it beneath her cloak. For a moment, she felt triumph. She could nearly taste her prize.
“Thief! Thief!” shouted the vendor. “There! Get her! She’s there!”
Hannah didn’t think. She ran. Holding the bread against her stomach, she sprinted away. She heard footsteps and shouts of “Stop! Stop!” She glanced over her shoulder and what she saw terrified her. Two constables were chasing her. Where had they been? Why hadn’t she seen them? An image of the gallows flashed through her mind. People were sometimes hanged for stealing.
Frantically searching for a way of escape or a place to hide, she ran faster. She gulped in lungfuls of air. A sharp pain cut into her side and her heart hammered. The steps behind her were close!
Someone grabbed her arm. She wrenched free. But the constable managed to seize her cloak. Hannah slipped out of it and kept running. She didn’t know what hurt more, her lungs or her legs. She fought for breath.
Lord, save me , she cried desperately and turned into an alley.
“Stop! Stop, I say!”
Hannah kept running, the pounding of boots close behind. Someone grabbed her hair and yanked, wrenching her backward. She fell and her head cracked against the cobblestone street. Dazed, she lay still, sucking air into her lungs. They had her.
“Get up! On your feet!” the constable shouted, dragging her upright.
“Please, sir. I was hungry. I tried to find work, but no one would hire me. I’ll return the bread.” Her eyes found the dark bread. It had fallen out of her hands and lay in a puddle.
“No one’s going to want it now.”
“I’ve never stolen anything before. I’m telling the
The marketplace was quiet; most vendors had already closed their stands. Hannah moved toward a man who had a variety of vegetables left. “Sir, I was wondering if you might need someone to cook or to clean for you.”
He looked at Hannah and she thought compassion softened his gaze. “Sorry, but I got no need.”
Hannah gazed at the carrots and potatoes and considered asking for some. She couldn’t bring herself to beg and moved on.
Just beyond, a man sat on the edge of the street, legs crossed and a cup in front of him. When he saw Hannah, he picked up the cup and held it aloft. “Money for the poor,” he croaked. “I’m crippled and can’t work.”
She glanced inside the tin. There were two coppers resting in the bottom. Hannah couldn’t bring herself to speak; she simply shook her head and walked on.
She approached a woman loading apples into a cart. “Have you any work for me?” she asked. “I’m strong and will work hard.”
“You look puny to me. I need someone with a strong back.”
“I’m much stronger than I look.”
The woman studied Hannah for a long moment, then said, “Nah. I need someone who can be of real help. Besides, I got no money.”
“I . . . I’ll take a bit of food in trade.”
The woman hesitated, and then shook her head. “No. I can sell these tomorrow.” She turned her back on Hannah.
Drawing in a disappointed breath, Hannah’s desperation grew. She felt faint with hunger. Her eyes landed on a display of baked goods. There were several loaves of dark bread. She could walk by quickly and grab one and stuff it beneath her cloak. No one would see. What is one loaf to him, anyway? she reasoned.
Apprehension grew inside Hannah. She’d never stolen anything before. What choice have I?
With her eyes on the prize, she picked up her pace and walked toward the cart. Too frightened to actually take the bread, she walked past and remained empty-handed. She stopped several yards up the street, then turned and looked back. I must do it. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to build her courage.
Again, she ambled toward the stand. This time when she moved by, she grabbed a loaf and quickly concealed it beneath her cloak. For a moment, she felt triumph. She could nearly taste her prize.
“Thief! Thief!” shouted the vendor. “There! Get her! She’s there!”
Hannah didn’t think. She ran. Holding the bread against her stomach, she sprinted away. She heard footsteps and shouts of “Stop! Stop!” She glanced over her shoulder and what she saw terrified her. Two constables were chasing her. Where had they been? Why hadn’t she seen them? An image of the gallows flashed through her mind. People were sometimes hanged for stealing.
Frantically searching for a way of escape or a place to hide, she ran faster. She gulped in lungfuls of air. A sharp pain cut into her side and her heart hammered. The steps behind her were close!
Someone grabbed her arm. She wrenched free. But the constable managed to seize her cloak. Hannah slipped out of it and kept running. She didn’t know what hurt more, her lungs or her legs. She fought for breath.
Lord, save me , she cried desperately and turned into an alley.
“Stop! Stop, I say!”
Hannah kept running, the pounding of boots close behind. Someone grabbed her hair and yanked, wrenching her backward. She fell and her head cracked against the cobblestone street. Dazed, she lay still, sucking air into her lungs. They had her.
“Get up! On your feet!” the constable shouted, dragging her upright.
“Please, sir. I was hungry. I tried to find work, but no one would hire me. I’ll return the bread.” Her eyes found the dark bread. It had fallen out of her hands and lay in a puddle.
“No one’s going to want it now.”
“I’ve never stolen anything before. I’m telling the