Pansy made her way to the road leading to London. She'd only been there once with her Papa years ago, but she knew she couldn't stay in this town. Mother Aileen had poisoned every ear she could with tales of her lazy, worthless stepdaughter. It hadn't taken her two days to find out there would be no work for her here. She quickly hid her money in her bodice, where pickpockets and other thieves couldn't easily discover her small horde of coins. She'd lost her valise the first night in the town center, when she'd fallen asleep where she'd finally dropped. Hidden under the back stairway to the upper floor of the inn, she'd thought she'd been safe enough, but in sleep she'd relaxed her grip on the handle. When the morning sun woke her, it was gone.

With no coaches or carriages in sight, she plodded down the road. At some point she hoped to beg a ride with anyone heading to the city. Her shoes were woefully inadequate, and every pebble she stepped on made her wince. She needed boots, not slippers designed for dancing and the polished floors of home. The heat of the day penetrated her despondent fugue, and she noticed the trickles of sweat making their way down her back, soaking the thin cotton dress she wore. Her hair was damp, and it wasn't long before she was so thirsty her mouth felt like it was coated in dust.

Looking around for any shade or a place to cool herself, she spotted the giant oak, and shuffled off the road into the grass. The welcome coolness of the softer footing soothed her aching feet, and she went around into the shade to find she'd stumbled upon a small rivulet of clear water, coming from a pool just a little further into the bushes. She'd never noticed the charming spot once, when she'd gone with Papa on his trips to the next town. Gratefully she knelt there and dipped her hands into the cold clear streamlet, where the water danced over a bed of tumbled rocks and sand.

"Who are you?"

Pansy almost choked as she tried to swallow the water she'd drawn into her parched mouth. Sputtering she spit out what she had not gulped down and coughed as her throat spasmed. Finally catching her breath, she said, "Pansy. You scared me half to death."

"You found our spring! It's been years since anyone has. Even as close to the road as we are." The boy's eyes flashed with surprise as intense as hers.

"I was desperate for something to drink. The road is quiet today. No one at all to catch a ride with."

"Why are you walking on Tuesday? Everyone knows, nothing moves till at least tomorrow. Market day in London is Friday and we have a two-day journey to get there." The lad spoke with a sneer, as he couldn't believe what a fool she was. Everyone knew when the open-air market happened.

Pansy sat down, drawing her knees up to her chest, put her head down on them and burst into sobs. She would never get to London. She was so hungry her stomach was cramping, as she couldn't even spend a penny on a loaf of moldy bread. The baker had chased her out as soon as she tried to go in. Out wench! He chased her away with the big broom he used to sweep flour from in front of his ovens. No good lazy, worthless wench, your mother warned us about you. She wept harder.

On the other side of the little gurgling rill, Tommy looked at her in exasperation. "Stop your caterwauling. I'll ask my father if we can give you a ride. You can stay with us tonight." He had two sisters himself. This girl looked so sad he wondered if this was the one everyone was talking about. The town folk had been gossiping about a girl who'd finally gotten what was coming to her. She didn't look like an evil witch.

"You would do that for me?" Pansy stopped mid sniffle.

"You found our spring." It was enough for him. "Follow me. You can hop over the water using that stone." He pointed at a large flat rock in the middle of the pool.

Pansy stood, shaking her dress down over her legs. She put her foot on the stone carefully and eased her way across the tiny pond. The boy waved at her to follow, and she found herself on a narrow path between majestic trees. "Who are you?" She called after her guide. The boy couldn't have been more than perhaps ten.

"I'm Tommy Black, the smithy's son. We go to London only once a month, but you're lucky. We leave tomorrow."

Pansy followed close on his heels. She wondered what fate had put in her path. She wouldn't question good fortune even it came in the form of a strange lad dressed in brown breeches, and a vest of green over a shirt of purest white linen. He looked kind enough, but she fingered the scissors she had in her pocket. She'd left them there when she'd finished the mending mother Aileen had insisted, she finish. You could never tell if good fortune truly smiled on you.

"What have you brought us young Tommy?" A grizzled old man stopped mid-swing as they went into the barn. His hammer came to rest with a loud clang.

"I found her at the spring. Here's the bucket you needed filled." Tommy swung the pail he'd been carrying up on the stump beside the anvil.

His grandfather grabbed the metal he'd been shaping with tongs and slipped it into the water where it cooled from cherry red as the water boiled and steamed around it.

"Well, well." He looked Pansy over. The girl was blonde, with wisps of curls escaping the braid hanging down over her breast. She was young to be walking and far too pretty to be alone. She shouldn't have been out at all. There were those who would do her no good.

"Where are you off to child?" his gruff voice brooked no nonsense.

"London. Once there, I'll find work as a maid." Pansy looked him in the eye, hoping he wouldn't notice her brave response was a false front.

"We'll give you a ride, we'll be taking our goods into London city on the morrow. Take her in to your mother, Tommy. I'm sure she can sleep with your sisters tonight. If she found our spring, she isn't bad folk. Only those who deserve our help find their way to it." His thoughts turned to Aileen Nelson, the wicked witch of the town. Decent folk knew her only interest was to further her own daughter's interests. The least he could do was help this waif escape her stepmother's clutches.

"I'll clean your house for you, in payment," Pansy said. "I'll do any chore you give me." She couldn't take the help without giving back.

"Tommy, take her to the main house. Then come and work the bellows for me. I've got hours of work to be ready to take the big order into town tomorrow." The old man swung his hammer up and struck the red hot metal he'd pulled from the smithy fire.

"Come on, I'll take you to my Mama, she'll be glad to have you, my sisters are polishing the tables, and it's time to beat the rugs. She'll put you to work." Tommy grabbed her hand and pulled her around to the other side of the barn.