You were Davey’s baby sister. But seeing as he was constantly busy leading the strikes alongside the Newsie leader, Jack Kelly, it was understandable how some days he just needed to focus on the strikes instead of a baby for a few hours.

And with most of the other Newsies busy selling papes or helping to plan the strikes, that only left the most irresponsible Newsie to care for you.

Racetrack Higgins.

Right now, he was stationed on the sidewalk of the city square, shouting at the crowds of people as he held up a newspaper.

You were by his feet, playing with some rocks you found on the ground to keep yourself entertained.

An elderly woman, who looked quite wealthy from the quality of her dress, approached you two. Race offered her a paper, to which she denied, looking down at you. “What’s a baby doing out on the street?”

Race looked down at you, folding the newspaper and placing it in his bag. “I’m watching her for a friend.”

The old woman sighed, reaching down and lifting you up, looking you over. “Honestly, look at how dirty her dress is! This is the problem with the lower class, they just reproduce when they can’t even afford to feed themselves. Leave the child raising to those who can pay to keep babies fed, and the poor will die out like they never existed.”

Race furrowed his brow, his teeth clamping around his cigar. Who was this lady to try and tell him what to do?!

“Listen, ma’am, I sure as hell ain’t ‘ppreciating the way you’re talkin’ about her. If ya not buyin’ a pape, move along.”

She ignored him, brushing off your dress and resting your weight on her hip.

Race sighed, making a move to grab you from her but she stepped back, glaring at him. This only pissed him off more.