(no subject)
Here comes an African-American girl of about ten or eleven. Her dress is plain, but of good make and clean, though it has been mended in (several) spots, and her feet are bare. She is definitely on the darker side of the scale, and her hair sticks up every-which-way in little tails. Her back is full of welts and scars, but, as it is at the moment covered up, you can't see them.
She whistles snatches of tunes as she picks her way among the rubble (yes, in her bare feet). Some shiny bit of trinket catches her eye, and, letting out a small cry, she snatches it up and pockets it before anyone else can.
Typist: This is Topsy, from Uncle Tom's Cabin. She's got problems, to put it mildly. Taken from sometime between when St. Clare bought her for Ophelia and when Eva convinced her that maybe she could try and be good.
She whistles snatches of tunes as she picks her way among the rubble (yes, in her bare feet). Some shiny bit of trinket catches her eye, and, letting out a small cry, she snatches it up and pockets it before anyone else can.
Typist: This is Topsy, from Uncle Tom's Cabin. She's got problems, to put it mildly. Taken from sometime between when St. Clare bought her for Ophelia and when Eva convinced her that maybe she could try and be good.