A Stranger’s Request

Bill’s first instinct was suspicion.

It was barely 5:30 in the morning. Most decent people were still asleep.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, his voice rough. “Who sent you?”

The girl lowered her eyes and tightened her hold on the baby.

“I can’t talk about that,” she whispered. “But I’ll work for it. I can sweep, clean, gather eggs… I don’t want to beg.”

Her voice wasn’t proud.

It was frightened.

Bill studied her carefully. She was trembling—but she hadn’t stepped back.