Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [19]
Georgie’s heart squeezed. Lifting one of the girl’s brown braids, she fanned a finger across its tail. It was time for a hair wash. “Is the money you’re earning as my errand girl running out too fast?”
Bettina pulled back, breaking the connection between her braid and Georgie. “Me and Pa are getting by. But that don’t mean I wouldn’t like a sarsaparilla stick or one of them rock-and-rye drops. And sometimes, I get me a powerful thirst fer a Dr. Pepper. I could get all that fer a nickel and still have money left over.”
Normally Bettina kept her vulnerabilities well hidden. That she would reveal such a wish list spoke volumes.
“What if the mama and daddy birds are there right now?” Georgie asked. “Looking for their babies?”
“What if they aren’t?”
She took a deep breath. “If you sell those to Mr. Ottfried, they’ll end up on some lady’s hat. How would you feel if you ran into somebody wearing those poor baby eggs?”
“I’d wanna know how much she paid fer her hat.”
Georgie looked up the street toward the milliner’s. “More than a nickel, I can promise you that.”
“How much more?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Bird hats are the most expensive ones. They run anywhere from five dollars on up.”
“Five dollars!” Bettina’s eyes bugged. “He ought not offer a nickel for these, then. It ain’t right a’tall.”
“No, using birds for fashion is criminal, I think.”
“I think buying these fer a nickel, then selling the hat fer five dollars is crim’nal.” Her brows scrunched together in a fierce frown. “I can tell ya this, if he offers me anything less than fifty cents, I ain’t givin’ none of it to him. Not so much as a twig from the nest.”
Georgie placed two fingers against her forehead. “You’re missing the point. You shouldn’t sell them to him at all. Don’t you see? He’s killing innocent creatures just so he can turn them into ornaments.”
Bettina inched backward. “I know you love yer birds and all, Miss Georgie, but lots o’ folks kill ’em. Even you eat eggs.”
She followed the girl step for step. “I’m not talking about hunting them for food or gathering eggs from a henhouse. I’m talking about killing birds for no other reason than to put them on a hat. If we keep it up, we’ll have no birds left.”
Bettina gave her a skeptical look. “We ain’t likely to run outta birds.”
“That’s what they said about passenger pigeons. We had millions of them, billions even. Their flocks were so dense they’d block the noonday sun clean out, and where are they now? Gone, or very nearly so. And for what purpose? To satisfy a bunch of trapshooting men and to trim the clothing of a bunch of fashion-conscious women.”
Bettina scratched her hip. “I’m right sorry, Miss Georgie. I don’t wanna make ya mad. I mighta put it back if it meant a nickel, but fifty cents? Well, me and Pa could live a long time on fifty cents.” She whirled around and jogged down the boardwalk, boots clomping.
Georgie watched her go, her throat swelling. Those eggs would never hatch whether Bettina sold them or not. But that wasn’t the point. The fifty cents she’d earn was as tainted as the thirty pieces of silver Judas earned. The difference was, Bettina didn’t understand what she was doing. But Judas and Mr. Ottfried did.
Setting her jaw, she looked neither left nor right, but straight ahead. Marching down Market Street, she determined she would put a stop to his grotesque offer if it was the last thing she did.
In her resolve to reach the millinery, she didn’t immediately hear her name being called. When it finally penetrated, she looked around, a bit dazed.
Mrs. Ottfried, the milliner’s wife, stood in front of the curiosity shop, waving her over. “Georgie, dear. Whatever are you doing? Who’s working the switchboard? Has some calamity befallen? You look utterly pallid. I hope no one has . . .”
The rest was lost on Georgie as her vision cleared and she had her first real glimpse at Mrs. Ottfried’s outfit. An owl’s head with blank staring eyes perched upon her hat. Swallows’ wings edged her cape. And heads of yellow finches hemmed her skirt.
Georgie slammed her eyes shut, but