Bumlets dropped his cigarette to the sidewalk and ground it in with the toe of his boot. He hefted his papers onto his shoulder and continued on down the street. He was on the opposite side of Broome Street from Irving Hall, but glanced over anyway. When he did he caught sight of two women knocking on the front door and knitted his eyebrows together. They weren't millionaires, but still looked too fancy for that Lower East Side street. They also didn't appear to be getting a response to their persistant knocks. He looked up and down the street, then crossed it, lowering his papers again.

"Medda's prob'ly the on'y one 'ere dis time of day an' she's prob'ly in the back," he said, as he stood behind them.

They turned quickly and he noticed that one of the women looked much older than the other and figured they must be mother and daughter. The older one had dark brown hair streaked with gray beneath a large, flowered and feathered hat. The younger one had features that resembled the other one's, but they were much softer and her hair was bright copper in color, straight, and pinned up simply underneath a small, rather plain hat with a bow in the back. He realized he was staring at her when her pale, lightly freckled cheeks colored and her eyes dropped to the sidewalk, causing her pale lashes to brush her cheeks. He looked quickly back to her mother.

"I can take ya 'round back if ya were interested in seein' Medda," he offered to her.

"I was, yes," she replied. "She's my sister-in-law."

Bumlets couldn't help but look surprised. "I neva heard 'er talk 'bout any family," he said.

The older woman nodded, but there wasn't even a hint of a smile on her face. "As if that surprises me!" she said with a bitter sniff. "I wouldn't have even bothered to come visit any relative of my ex-husband's, but Jocelyn insisted that she see her aunt. So here we are."

"An' you're Jocelyn?" Bumlets asked the younger woman and she nodded.

"Yes, Jocelyn Larkson," she answered, her voice soft, but not really shy. Just quiet naturally. "This is my mother, Mary Larkson."

"Mary Decoteau," she corrected her daughter in clipped tones.

Bumlets saw a brief look of unhappiness pass over Jocelyn's face as she glanced at her mother, but it was gone when she looked back towards him.

"Would you be kind enough to show us to the other door?" she asked. "Um....what is your name?"

"Bumlets," he answered. "Dat's the on'y name I go by dese days."

Jocelyn smiled at him and Mary raised an eyebrow.

"C'mon, it's 'round dis side," he said, gesturing. They followed.

He knocked on the door that led to Medda's aparment and about a minute later, she herself answered it.

"Heya Bumlets, what can I do for ya today?" she asked him, giving him a hug.

"I found some of your family out front," he answered, stepping aside so that she could see Mary and Jocelyn.

"Mary!" Medda exclaimed, embracing the other woman tightly. "And this must be Jocelyn---or 'Joy' as I recall her father calling her," Medda teased, hugging her niece, then ushering everyone, including Bumlets, in.

"It's so nice to see you, Aunt Medda," Jocelyn said, warmly.

"Can you stay and have some tea or coffee?" Medda asked. "You're invited too, Bumlets," she added.

He hesitated, thinking about his papers, but decided getting to know Jocelyn a little better might be a good trade-off for not selling. "I can stay, sure," he answered and Mary accepted on her and Jocelyn's behalf.

They drank the tea and coffee that Medda had fixed and Mary seemed to be relaxing slightly. Bumlets knew that Medda had a gift for talking to strangers as easily as she talked to friends she had known for years and it was rather reassuring. Obviously Mary thought the same.

After about thirty minutes, Jocelyn jumped in during a lull of conversation. "May I go and see the theater?" she asked Medda.

"Of course, honey!" Medda exclaimed. "It's out the door and around to the right then to the---Bumlets, why don't you just show her?"

"Sure Medda," he answered quickly, handing her his empty coffee cup and motioning for Jocelyn to follow him.

She jumped up and hurried after him, closing Medda's apartment door behind her.

"It ain't as hard ta get ta as Medda was makin' it sound," he said over his shoulder as he left her right, then left, then onto the stage. "'Ere it is."

"It's beautiful," Jocelyn said, still softly as she walked a little ways onto the dimly lit stage and stared out at the seats. She had removed her hat earlier and now her red hair shone brightly in the stage lights, though her face was made even more pale. She had huge gray eyes and she turned them towards him then. "I could see from your papers that you were a newsboy so I suppose it's only fair to tell you what I do," she said.

"An' what's dat?" he asked, curious. Most girls didn't do much once they finished with school. At least, not most upper class girls.

"I'm a ballerina," she said, smiling as she saw his surprise. "I know it's not very common."

"Ya really dance?" he asked. "I've seen pictures an' stuff, but I've neva seen a real ballet. Is dat why you're in New York? Ta dance?"

Jocelyn nodded. "Not at this theater, though. Mother says I'm on to bigger and better things." She hesitated, looking saddened again, then bent to unlace her shoes. She tossed them to him as he stood on the edge of the stage. "Here, hold them and watch. I won't be quite as I am normally---these skirts aren't what I'm accustomed to dancing in and I don't have the proper shoes," she said, apologizing ahead of time.

She hummed loudly enough for him to hear and then began to dance across the stage. He didn't know how different skirts or shoes could make it any better. She was just as graceful as he had heard ballet dancers were and once she began, she appeared to become lost in a fog of sorts, not noticing anything except the movements of her feet and arms and the tune of the music until she stopped. She shook her head slightly, then turned back to him, curtsying deeply.

Bumlets applauded loudly and added a teasing whistle. She stood back up laughing and he walked to her, handing her her shoes. They sat on the edge of the stage as she put them back on her feet and talked.

"So Medda's got a brother?" Bumlets asked.

Jocelyn nodded. "Mother divorced Papa about eight years ago because she said that he 'lacked culture'. Really, he just didn't want her always dragging me from city to city to dance. He wanted me to have a chance to live outside of a theater's walls. She couldn't have that."

"It sounds like dat ain't what YOU want," he observed, quietly.

She shook her head. "It's not, but there isn't much I can do to change it."

"How old are ya?" he asked.

"Almost eighteen," she answered. "My birthday is only a month away."

"You're responsible for yourself then," he said. "Once your birthday 'appens, then ya can do what ya wanna do."

She shook her head. "How could I disappoint her?"

"How can ya keep lettin' 'er disappoint YOU?" he countered. He didn't know why he was being so persistant. All he knew was that he had immediately disliked Mary and now, to hear Jocelyn talk, he disliked her even more.

"Please, Bumlets," Jocelyn said, her voice slightly strained. "Can we change the subject?"

He hesitated, then sighed. "Sure," he said. "Sorry 'bout dat."

"It's all right."

He thought for a moment, then grinned as he glanced over at her. "So I guess Medda's red hair isn't fake like we've thought all dese years, huh?" he asked, gesturing to her abundance of copper threads.

Jocelyn grinned as well. "Mine's completely and utterly natural," she said, "but Aunt Medda's is only half natural---at the most!"

She and Bumlets laughed together. When they had quieted, he offered to take her to Tibby's for lunch, which was approaching quickly. "Ya can meet some of my friends," he added.

"I'd like that," she answered, "but I'll have to ask Mother."

"C'mon, let's do dat now."

They returned to Medda's apartment and Jocelyn asked---rather nervously, Bumlets observed.

"I don't know, Jocelyn," Mary said, hesitating. "There's your practicing..."

"The theatre doesn't even need me to start rehearsal until the day after tomorrow," Jocelyn quickly reminded her mother. "Can't I skip my practice just for today?"

Mary sighed. "I suppose, but I don't know where this restaurant is and we hardly know anyone that you'll be with."

Medda jumped in. "They're all terrific boys," she said. "They're like my own."

Bumlets gave her a grateful glance and she winked at him when Mary looked away, towards Jocelyn.

"All right, I suppose, but can you find the hotel by about six this evening?"

Jocelyn nodded, then gave her mother a hug, which Mary cooly returned. "I'll be there by six, I promise."

Then she took her hat up again, and put it on as she and Bumlets walked out of the apartment. Once they had turned the corner, though, she removed it again. When she saw his curious look, she explained.

"I hate them, but Mother picks them all out and makes me wear them," she said. "Whenever I have the opportunity, I take them off."

"I don't blame ya," he agreed, looking nervously at the very large and very long hatpin that she stuck back into the hat as she carried it in her hands.

"I'm eager to meet your friends, Bumlets," she said. "I don't have friends, I never really have."

"What 'bout the people ya dance wid?"

She shook her head. "They're all too competitive and once a show has closed, we move on to another hotel room in another city and I dance in another theatre. There isn't time for friendships."

Bumlets couldn't even imagine. His friends and his family were one in the same and he couldn't fathom only knowing people for a short time, then leaving, most likely never seeing them again.

They reached Tibby's and found that all of the others were already there. They looked up, rather surprised, when Bumlets walked in with a well-dressed and very gorgeous redhead.

"Hey guys, dis is Medda's niece," he said. "'Er name's Jocelyn an' she's in New York ta dance at the ballet."

"Really?" Mush asked. "I went dere once, jus' ta see what the theatre looked like an' it was kinda neat. Nothin' like parties at Medda's though," he added with a grin.

Jocelyn laughed slightly. "I can only imagine!" she exclaimed as Bumlets pulled out a chair for her and then took one for himself next to her.

"I've got a cousin out West somewhere named Jocelyn," Skittery said. "I 'aven't seen 'er in years, but we all used ta call 'er 'Joy' as a nickname."

"My father used to call me that," Jocelyn told them, with a softer smile. "I really haven't been called that in years. Hearing Medda say it today was a wonderful reminder of what things used to be like."

"Well then dat's what we'll all call ya," Boots said.

"Yeah, it can be your 'newsie nickname'," Race said with a chuckle.

Jocelyn looked pleased. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome Joy," Jack replied, raising his eyebrows at Bumlets when Jocelyn wasn't looking.

Bumlets only grinned and sat back, watching. Jocelyn seemed to have immediately formed a connection with the newsies and they with her. It didn't look like it was going to be difficult at all to add her to the circle.

*************

Before six that night, Bumlets had given her a whirlwind tour of Manhattan, hitting upon all the major sights and promising to show her others another time. After a bit of argument with Mary, Jocelyn moved into the apartment above Medda's. Jocelyn had pointed out that the hotel wasn't anywhere near a theater, but that if she lived above Irving Hall, she could practice at any given time. Seeing the point, Mary allowed her to move into the apartment, but she herself stayed in the hotel, several blocks uptown.

Bumlets was delighted, for Jocelyn would be a lot closer and he could spend more time with her with her at Irving Hall. They got along just as well as she and the other newsies did, but there was a special, different feeling between them that they both were aware of, though they had yet to let each other know.

*************

Jocelyn had been rehearsing for a month and she had spent every minute outside of the theater with Bumlets and sometimes the other newsies as well. She had found friends in this place, but she knew it would only be a matter of time before she would have to leave them. She never said this to Bumlets, though and tried to put it from her own mind. She had never cared much one way or the other when she and her Mother had packed their bags and left again, but this time she knew she wouldn't want to leave.

Her birthday was the day before opening night of the ballet, but Mary refused to let her go out to dinner with the newsies to celebrate. She stressed to Jocelyn---in front of Bumlets---the importance of her being in bed early to fully get her rest for the next day and then Bumlets watched as Jocelyn nodded meekly, not even bothering to argue anymore. She didn't look as though she could take it.

They went out that afternoon, though, without the other newsies, and Bumlets tried yet again to make Jocelyn see what a difference it would make if she were to finally try to make her own decisions and not simply accept everything her mother dealt out, but Jocelyn begged him once again to change the subject. She repeated the now tired phrase about not wanting to disappoint Mary and Bumlets sighed, giving in, as he always did.

*************

Somehow Jocelyn had managed to get the theater to allow Bumlets to sit up in the rafters, alone, on stage right and watch the performance and so as she stood in the wings on stage left, waiting for her cue to dance out onto the stage, she looked up and caught his gaze. He grinned and she smiled back, a little nervously.

'You'll do fine,' he mouthed to her and she nodded, understanding.

'Thank you,' she replied, silently as well.

Then she looked away and glanced around. Once she saw that no one was around her, that she could not be seen from the audience, and that there was no one around him, she looked back up and found his gaze again. Before she could lose her nerve, she quickly blew him a kiss.

It surprised Bumlets greatly. They hadn't so much as held hands before, but he knew that there was more in that blown kiss than friendship, or else she wouldn't have been so careful about keeping it hidden. But as much as it surprised him, it thrilled him more. He had wondered for days how to tell her how he felt about her, but now all he had to do was acknowledge her gesture. So he did, with a grin and a nod. She looked plenty relieved and stepped out onto the stage then, as she heard her entrance cue in the music.

Bumlets watched her dance and swore that he had never done it was well before. He tried to convince himself that she was just trying harder since it was opening night, but he couldn't help but hope that it had at least a little something to do with him.

**************

Mary came backstage and whisked Jocelyn away before Bumlets could reach her, but she sought him out at his selling spot early the next morning. He saw her coming, finished selling the paper he was selling, then ventured to take her hand as they walked along the sidewalk.

"Ya were great," he told her. "I've neva seen ya dance dat well."

"I've never had you in my audience," she said, boldly.

He stopped and turned her to face him. "I know I've on'y known ya a month, Joy, but does it make any sense for me ta say dat I love ya?"

She couldn't speak for a moment as emotions washed over her, leaving her breathless. Then, "About as much sense as it makes for me to say that I love you too."

He didn't even bother to reply with words, but dropped her hand and put his arms around her as he kissed her. She kissed him in return, but a nagging voice inside of her head wouldn't let her fully enjoy it as it reminded her that she was only in New York for this short time.

**************

Jocelyn was resting on the bed in her apartment over Irving Hall after a preformance when her mother entered, without knocking, as usual.

"We seem to have a dilemma on our hands, Jocelyn," Mary said as soon as she entered.

"Good evening to you too, Mother," Jocelyn said, sarcastically.

"Don't be insolent," Mary snapped. "It seems as though the theater is wanting to close the ballet earlier than they had originally planned."

Jocelyn felt her heart skip a beat and she sat up quickly. "Why?!" she asked, her mind reeling. The ballet had only opened two months ago and she never dreamed that it would close so soon.

Mary shrugged. "They want a new one. That's the only explanation they're giving to the performers. We'll have to go somewhere else."

"No!" Jocelyn said loudly, surprising Mary.

"Jocelyn! Remember that you're speaking to your mother!"

"I don't want to leave New York!" Jocelyn protested further.

"Well we must! Obviously the New York stage doesn't appreciate you so we'll go elsewhere! There was a man in the audience this evening who was quite impressed with you, Jocelyn," Mary told her. "He wants you and I to come to Venice! Can you imagine? Italy!"

Mary went on, but Jocelyn didn't hear or see her. She sank back into her pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling. She would have welcomed the tears, but they wouldn't come. Not yet. Not only had she found friends in New York, but she had found love as well---not that she could ever tell her mother that. Mary would have a heart attack if she knew that Jocelyn loved a newsboy. She knew very well that Mary hoped at each and every ballet that she would fall in love with one of the male performers. So she could spend the rest of her life forever tied to the ballet. So that Mary could take grandchildren on these tours and manage their careers.

Finally speaking, Jocelyn interrupted Mary. "Why haven't you ever called me 'Joy'?" she asked, still staring at the ceiling.

Mary didn't answer for a long moment and the silence in the room hung heavily. "I can see that you need your rest, so I'll go on back to the hotel," she finally said, ignoring the question. "I have us booked on a ship to Italy. It leaved at noon tomorrow. I'll be here at eleven for you and I expect you to be ready then."

She left, closing the door firmly behind her and leaving Jocelyn in the dim room that was lit only by a single gas lamp on one wall.

Jocelyn lay there for several minutes, waiting for the tears to come, but they wouldn't. Finally she got up and locked her door. She was already dressed, but pulled a black, hooded cloak over her before slipping out of the window and down the fire escape. She walked swiftly to the Lodging House, and knocked at the door. Jack answered it, surprised to find her on the front steps and even more surprised to find her covered from head to toe in the cloak, for it was July and still quite hot out.

"Bumlets ain't 'ere yet Joy," he told her. "Ya wanna come in an' wait for 'im?"

She shook her head. "Can I leave a note for him?" she asked.

Jack looked at her curiously. "Yeah, sure, come on in."

She took the pad of paper and pencil that sat on the counter and hurridly scribbled out a note, trying to keep her hand from shaking. She folded it and gave it to Jack. She was aware of everyone else in the room staring at her just as curiously as Jack was, but she didn't want to explain everything twice. She would tell Bumlets that she was leaving and then he could tell everyone else for her, once she had gone.

"I'll give it to 'im as soon as he comes in," Jack promised, putting the note in his vest pocket. "Are ya okay, Joy?" he finally asked, concerned as she headed towards the door once again.

She nodded quickly. "Of course," she answered. Her effort to keep her voice normal, failed. "I-I only had an argument with Mother. I'll be fine."

She gave them all as reassuring a smile as she could manage, then impulsively gave Jack a hug before she left. Of all the newsies, excepting Bumlets, he had been the best friend to her. Then before he could reply, she ran swiftly down the street, back to Irving Hall. Then she packed all of her clothes, put the trunk back under the bed, and waited.

*****

When Bumlets came in, not ten minutes after Jocelyn had left, Jack handed him the note, and the others told him the state 'Joy' had been in when she had come. Worried, he hurried to Irving Hall and, following her instructions in the note, went up the fire escape to her window. The shade was drawn, but he knocked anyway and didn't even have to wait a second before she answered. She ushered him in quickly, closing the window behind him and drawing the shade once again. When she turned back around, to face him, she suddenly didn't know how to tell him that she was leaving.

"What's wrong Joy?" he asked, hugging her tightly.

"Nothing now," she replied, pulling back slightly. "Nothing now that you're here. It was only an argument with Mother, that's all and I'd really rather not talk about it any more."

"Are you sure?" he asked, still a little worried.

She nodded. He looked deep into her cloudy gray eyes and felt a fresh surge of love.

"I love you," she said, voicing his thoughts.

"I love ya too, Joy," he replied, brushing his hand over her cheek. "Why'd ya want me ta come if ya didn't wanna talk 'bout your ma?"

She searched quickly for an answer. "I just wanted to see you," she finally said. "I've been so busy...and I'll only be busier...I just wanted to see you where we could be alone for a while."

"Ya always have good ideas," he said with a grin.

She smiled back and when he kissed her, she forgot all about Venice. She pulled back a few minutes later, almost reluctantly.

"Bumlets?" she whispered.

"Yeah?" he asked. She had taken her hair down before he had gotten there and he was now twirling a long strand of it around his finger.

"Don't leave," she said, this sentence even softer than the one before it. She saw his surprised look, though he quickly hid it.

"Joy---" he started, but stopped himself. The look of love in her eyes mirrored his own and he knew that she saw it too. Slowly he nodded. "I won't," he agreed, kissing her again, "but what 'bout Medda..."

"The door's locked," she said, blushing. "Don't worry...Mother's at the hotel, probably asleep already and Medda retired to her room early because she had a headache...we won't be bothered."

"Then dere ain't anything left ta worry 'bout anyway," he said with a grin and she laughed once, softly, before pulling him closer to her and kissing him, a new element of love there that hadn't been there before.

As he ran his hands through her hair and his kisses down her throat, she wondered for the hundredth time how on earth she could leave. But when he kissed her lips again, any thoughts of Venice, her mother, or even dancing, flew from her head and it was the last time that night that she thought of anything except Bumlets.

**************

It was the quiet knock on her door the next morning that awoke Jocelyn. She was slow to open her eyes, then quick to remember what this morning brought. Closing her eyes again briefly, she controlled herself, then opened them again. Bumlets hadn't been awakened by the knock and so she slipped carefully from his arms and tied a dressing gown around her as she walked to the door.

"Who is it?" she asked, quietly, but her heart pounding, afraid it was her mother.

"It's Aunt Medda, honey. Your mother was just here and wanted me to get you ready while she went to check and make sure the ship was still leaving on time."

Jocelyn closed her eyes again, then looked back, to where Bumlets still slept. "Would---would you mind...waiting for me downstairs?" she asked Medda through the door.

"Sure, Joy," Medda said. "I wouldn't want to wake him up either."

Jocelyn's eyes widened in shock, but when she opened the door, Medda was already gone. She closed and locked it again, hurrying to dress and pack the last of her things as silently as possible. When she was done with these things, she sat down and wrote a note as quickly as possible, though tears blurred her sight and nearly smeared the ink before she blotted them carefully away.

She waved it to dry it, then stepped quietly across the room, setting the note on her pillow and pausing to kiss Bumlets softly.

"I love you," she whispered. "I promise I do."

Then choking back more tears, she picked up her trunks, and left, closing the door gently behind her without another look back.

Medda was waiting for her in the theater and she hugged her tightly. "I hate to see you go, Joy," Medda whispered.

Jocelyn nodded, still trying not to cry. "How---how did you know?" she asked.

Medda smiled slightly and gave Jocelyn another hug. "I heard the knock, then the window open and close, but it didn't open again," she answered, then used her own handkerchief to wipe away Jocelyn's tears and Jocelyn nodded.

Mary appeared then, surprised to see Jocelyn crying, but not saying a word about the tears as she hurried her daughter away from Medda and away from New York.

**************

Bumlets awoke not twenty minutes later and reached out a hand for Jocelyn, only to find the other side of the bed empty. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking around. He saw that the vanity table was cleared off and looked around more, puzzled. That's when the note caught his eye. He picked it up and read her hurried handwriting, incredulous.

Dear Bumlets, I wanted to tell you, but couldn't. I didn't know how. The ballet has closed abruptly and Mother is already taking me away to Europe. The last thing I want to do is leave you. You've shown me what it's like to have friends and to truly feel at home in a place. That's something I haven't known since I was very young and my father was still with me. There won't be a day to go by that I won't wish I could be with you. Please forgive me, if you can. I love you. Love, Joy.

**************

He showed up at Tibby's in time for lunch and the newsies were ready for him, with comments and laughs. When he didn't react at all, though, they slowed somewhat.

"So where is Joy dis lovely mornin'? Skittery asked.

"Gone," he answered dully, sitting down and giving an empty order to a waiter.

Movement in the restaurant stopped.

"What do ya mean, she's gone?" Jack asked, remembering the spontaneous hug she had given him the night before.

Bumlets silently handed him the note and he read it quickly, then handed it back, sending all of the newsies a look. He would tell them later. When Bumlets' food came, he merely looked at it and suddenly realized he wasn't hungry. Pushing it aside, he stood and left, not saying anything further.

**************

SIX MONTHS LATER:

Jocelyn approached Bumlets' selling spot, hoping he would still be there, though it was growing dark. She wished it were summer rather than winter. Then he might be out later. A chilling wind blew down the narrow street and she shivered as it hit her, and pulled her cloak more tightly around her. She turned the corner and her heart began to pound nervously as she saw him selling papers. Then she realized that it was not Bumlets and that same heart sank slightly. As nervous as she was to face him, she wanted to find him.

She tapped the young newsie, whom she did not recognize, on the shoulder and he turned. She held out a penny and he handed her a paper.

"Thanks, Miss," he said, and started to turn away, but she stopped him.

"No, please!" Jocelyn said quickly. "Someone else used to sell here...Bumlets. Do you know him?"

The boy's gaze became thoughtful and he started to shake his head. Then his face cleared with recognition. "Oh yeah!" he exclaimed. "He's gone."

Jocelyn felt the blood drain from her face. "Gone where?" she asked, her voice strained.

The boy shrugged. "He jus' left a few months back. I dunno where he is now. Jack might."

"Jack," Jocelyn murmured, recalling Cowboy fondly. "Where is Jack selling?" she asked.

The boy looked thoughtful again. "I think today he's stakin' out the base of the bridge."

"Thank you!" Jocelyn said exuberantly, trying to keep herself somewhat calm. She was now THAT much closer to finding Bumlets. She pressed a quarter into the boy's hand. "What's your name?"

"Adam," he replied. When he saw her slightly surprised look, he went on to explain. "Dey ain't thought of a nickname for me yet. I jus' got 'ere two weeks ago."

"Oh," Jocelyn said, nodding. "Thank you again."

"Sure thing, lady."

Adam watched her curiously as she took off running towards the bridge, her cloak and skirts fluttering furiously behind her. He shook his head slightly. He rationalized that she must be a little crazy.

**************

Jocelyn slowed to catch her breath as she neared the bridge and she could already see Jack, selling his last paper to a business man in a dark suit.

"Jack!" she called loudly.

Her voice barely carried over the howl of the wind as it began to pick up, preparing Manhattan for another storm. Jack caught his name, though, and turned just as Jocelyn stopped in front of him. It took him a moment, for the hood of her cloak shadowed her face and the dimness of the daylight added to that shadow. Then he recognized her.

"Joy!" he exclaimed, nearly crushing her in a hug. "God, where've ya been?" he asked as he released her.

She shook her head. "Everywhere, but that isn't important. I'm here now and I have to find Bumlets."

Jack's face sobered slightly. "I don't know if dat's a good idea, Joy," he said gently.

"Why?" she asked, her voice suddenly smaller. "Is...is there someone else?" she asked with difficulty.

"It ain't dat," he said and she looked relieved.

"Then what?"

"I don't know...he was hurt somethin' awful when ya left...I don't know if he's over it yet."

Jocelyn closed her eyes for a long moment, then reopened them. "I didn't come all this way to give up," she said. "I didn't quit and then come here for nothing."

"Quit?!" Jack asked, shocked. "Ya mean...quit...dancin'?"

Jocelyn looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, in a way. I still love it---I always will---but no more traveling. No more Paris, no more London, no more Italy. I don't want to leave here again," she said, her voice growing softer as she spoke.

Jack looked bewildered and he slowly shook his head. "Whoa, Joy," he said, sighing. "I neva expected dat."

"Neither did my mother," she said, with a wry smile playing at her lips.

"Where's she?" Jack asked.

Jocelyn shrugged. "When I left her, she was in Venice," she answered. "There's no telling where she is now."

"Well, I guess ya really mean it, huh?" Jack said, not expecting an answer. "Bumlets quit the newsies for a real job," he told her.

Jocelyn looked surprised. "Where?" she asked.

"A store on Broome Street. It's jus' down from Medda's," he said. "It's the on'y one on dat street so it shouldn't be any trouble ta find."

"Thank you!" Jocelyn cried, throwing her arms around his neck, then pulling away and running in the direction of Broome Street. Jack watched her run until he could no longer see her. Then he glanced up at the sky and realized he had better hurry back to the Lodging House before the storm hit.

**************

Jocelyn found the store easily, but her hopes plummeted when she saw that it was dark inside. She approached the door anyway, and peered in through the glass door as she rapped loudly on it. When no one answered after a moment, she closed her eyes against the tears and let her head fall on the doorframe as she tried to gather herself together. After all the waiting, she had gotten so close---and come to a dead end, at least for tonight. She wondered if she could last until the next morning. When she realized that the next day was Sunday---and the store would not be opening---she fell deeper into despair. Monday seemed decades away.

Turning from the door, she wiped away the single tear that had escaped and pulled her hood closer around her face, starting down the sidewalk to New Irving Hall to see if Medda would give her a place for the night.

The sound of tiny bells jingling made Jocelyn turn around, several yards from the store, and she saw through the snow that had begun to fall, that Bumlets stood in the doorway of the store. The rest of the street was empty and his voice echoed quietly against buildings and in alleys.

"Did ya need somethin' Miss?" he asked, not recognizing her from underneath the concealing cloak.

Jocelyn's voice and breath caught raggedly in her throat and she swallowed hard, trying to speak. "Yes!" she called back and saw him pause slightly as he heard her voice. "You."

She hurried back to the store and stood on the stoop, in front of him.

Disbelieving, Bumlets pushed the hood of her cloak back slightly. "Joy," he whispered, stunned.

"Can...can I come in?" she asked hesitantly.

Suddenly realizing how cold it was and how wet the falling snow felt, Bumlets motioned her inside. "Sure," he said.

He followed her in and closed the door behind him, relocking it. Then he turned to face her. She had pushed the hood back all of the way and it shocked him again to realize that it was truly her who stood in front of him.

"How have you been?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"Neva terrific," he answered truthfully and he saw her bite her lower lip, guiltily. "Ya cold? Ya want some coffee?" he asked, changing the subject for the time being.

"If you don't mind," she said, after taking a deep breath.

She followed him through a doorway and down a narrow flight of stairs. Underneath the store, she discovered, was a small, but neat and comfortable-looking room. A sink, a stove, a table and two chairs resided in one corner, while a bed and a chest of drawers rested in another. Bumlets filled a pot of water and then set it on the stove, which was already burning, keeping the room toasty warm. Two gas lamps were on the back wall and filled the room with a warm golden light.

"Is this where you live now?" she asked and he nodded, still turned away from her.

"The guy who owns the place lives above the store an' he's outta town for the weekend. He's visitin' his sister in Connecticut. I getta run the place while he's gone."

"Oh," Jocelyn said, not being able to think of anything else.

Bumlets finally turned towards her and gestured to one of the two chairs. "'Ave a seat," he offered.

Jocelyn nodded and unbuttoned her cloak. She had just started to take it off when Bumlets' hands took it from her, helping her off with it. She smiled slightly to herself. "Thank you," she said, sitting down and watching him hang the cloak carefully on a peg near the staircase.

"Sure," he said. The coffee started to boil and Bumlets took it off of the stove, pouring it into two cups and handing one to her.

She smiled her thanks and savored the warmth that seeped from the inside of the cup to the outside and to her numb hands.

Bumlets sat in the chair across from hers and they both were silent for a long time, concentrating on their coffee.

"Why?" he asked, unexpectedly.

"Why what?"

"Why'd ya come back?" he asked.

Jocelyn tried not to let the remark hurt, but it did anyway. Had he wished she would never return? "To find you," she said. Then she took a deep breath. "I quit."

Bumlets' gaze jerked up from his coffee to her. "Ya ain't dancin' anymore?"

"Only for myself," she said. "No longer for my mother. You told me a long time ago that I should do that, remember?" she asked, nostalgically.

He nodded. "Was she real mad? Did she come wid ya?"

"Yes, she was quite furious and no, she didn't come with me," Jocelyn answered. "I left her in Venice."

"Venice," he repeated, finding it hard to imagine being so far. "I guess it was a nice place."

Jocelyn shook her head slightly. "It was empty," she said, her voice low.

"Empty? How?" All she was doing was confusing him. It had been six months and suddenly she had reappeared, saying that she had quit dancing, left her mother, and that Venice wasn't a nice place.

"Because you weren't there," she answered, quickly and truthfully.

"Yeah, New York's sorta been like dat too, widout ya," he admitted, his heart lifting for the first time since she had left.

"Really?" she asked, sounding hopeful but trying to hide it.

"Yeah, really," he confirmed, holding her gaze. "I've missed ya, Joy."

"I've missed you too," she said, her voice higher now, due to the tears that were filling her eyes. "I couldn't walk away and stay away," she went on. "When I said that I loved you, those weren't just words, Bumlets, they were true feelings. I realized so late that I could never be happy in any city that you weren't in."

He stood and took her hand, pulling her from her seat and into his arms. As he held her close, her tears began to fall. She had tried to keep this feeling of being so near to him with her for all those months, but the real thing was twenty times more fabulous than anything in her imagination.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice nearly cracking with each word. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he whispered, soothingly. "Jus' don't leave again."

"I promise. Never."

When he kissed her they both found that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder and that their love had never been completely gone, only put to a hard test that was now over.

"Ya gotta place ta stay?" Bumlets asked her when he broke the kiss, still holding her close.

"I was going to see if Medda had a room available," Jocelyn said.

"Don't do dat," he said, quietly.

"Why?" But she had an inkling of what he was getting to and could hardly keep from smiling.

"It gets pretty lonely 'ere," he hinted. "Especially at night."

Jocelyn ran her finger along the edge of his collar. "In my opinion, I'm still pretty good company," she whispered, then grinned.

"I'll be the judge of dat," he teased, then kissed her again. "Maybe I jus' don't wanna let ya outta my sight so soon," he confessed after the kiss.

"So don't let me go," she replied, then grew serious. "Ever."

"I ain't gonna make dat same mistake again," he assured her, then kissed her again before her rapidly forming tears could fall.

**************

Bumlets awoke late that night to find that Jocelyn was across the room, knelt down in front of the stove, her cloak wrapped around her tightly. "What're ya doin'?" he called quietly and she turned quickly.

"The fire had burned out," she explained, whispering. She looked back to where the new newspapers and logs had started burning. She looked back to him. "It's back now."

"So why don't you come back now?" he replied and she grinned, hurrying across the cold floor. Since the fire had gone out, about an hour previous, the room had turned to the chilly side. She pulled yet another quilt over them and turned to face him, staying as close as possible, easy to do since he seemed reluctant to take his arm from around her again.

"I forgot ta ask what ya had done wid your bags an' things," he said.

"They're being held for me at the station," she whispered back. "I can get them tomorrow."

"How 'bout Monday?" he asked, grinning again.

"Still don't want to let me out of your sight, I see," she teased.

Bumlets became serious again. "I jus' don't wanna wake up wid another note next ta me instead of you."

A look of pain and guilt crossed her face. "I'm sorry...I-I just didn't know how I would tell you---the note seemed so easy, but it was the coward's way out. I knew that all along."

He kissed her forehead and she closed her eyes at his touch. "It's okay now," he said, his voice even lower than before.

"Do you think Mother will come after me to try and bring me back?" Jocelyn asked.

"If she does then she's gonna 'ave a bit of a problem unless she wants ta take your husband AN' you," he answered, then waited for her reaction. He didn't have to wait long.

"What are you saying?" she asked, excitement beginning to light in her eyes as she looked over at him.

"I think I'm askin' ya ta marry me, even though I ain't got a real apartment or a job dat pays more'n two bucks a day an'---"

She interrupted him when she kissed him.

"So...is dat a 'yes'?" he asked when she finally pulled away.

She nodded. "It's a 'yes' that I've wanted to say for months."

"What 'bout ev'rything I jus' said?"

"Who cares?" she asked in return. "We'll work on it together."

"Together, huh?" he asked with a grin. "Well, it's 'bout time we tried life dat way."

**************

The owner of the store, Mr. Wilford, was supposed to return late Monday morning, but as the hours stretched by into afternoon, he still wasn't back and Bumlets was beginning to worry slightly. He had been the old man's only company for the past few months and for a young man without a father and an old man without a son, they got along wonderfully.

"Don't worry, I'm sure his train is just late," Jocelyn told him. "Or maybe he decided to stay an extra day or two."

Bumlets nodded, but didn't look as though her comments had helped any. Jocelyn sighed and hugged him as he stood at the cash register, waiting for Mr. Wilford to walk through the front door.

"Do you want something to eat?" she asked. "It's past lunchtime."

"Sure, but I don't wanna leave the store jus' yet," he answered.

"Of course not," she said. "I'll get something from the kitchen up here."

"Thanks," he said, a little more gratefully and gave her a kiss before she left the room.

Bumlets looked up quickly as the door opened, but it was only a stranger. The man was tall, with gray hair and a bushy mustache and beard.

"Can I help ya with anything today, sir?" Bumlets asked as the man approached the counter.

"Maybe, son," he answered. "Are you Louis Covello?"

"Yes, sir, I am," Bumlets answered, a little surprised to hear his real name. Mr. Wilford had grown accustomed to the newsie nickname, as everyone else had.

"I received a telegram from Mr. Wilford today with instructions to show it to you," the man said. "I am his lawyer, Jacob Larkson."

Bumlets' eyes widened a little. "Do you know Medda Larkson?" he asked.

The man looked surprised. "She's my sister," he replied. "Why?"

"An' ya 'ave an ex-wife named Mary an' a daughter named Jocelyn, right?" he asked.

"Yes, but I haven't seen any of them in years. How did you know that?" the man asked, confused.

"Wait 'ere," Bumlets replied. He turned towards the kitchen door. "Sweetheart, can ya come in 'ere a minute?"

"Sure," Jocelyn called in return.

Bumlets nodded, and waited, ignoring the curious looks Jacob was giving him. Jocelyn entered a moment later, preparing to ask Bumlets something else, when she took a second look at the man who stood on the other side of the counter and then she stopped with a gasp.

"Papa!" she exclaimed, still not yet able to move.

Jacob suddenly recognized her. "Joy?" he asked, hardly able to believe that this tall, beautiful woman---who some man had just called 'sweetheart'---was his little girl.

Finally Jocelyn was able to tear her rooted feet from the floor and she launched herself into her father's arms, hugging him tightly around his neck. "It's been so long! Why haven't you tried to find me?" she asked, still hugging him. Bumlets only watched from the counter, grinning wildly.

"I have, I have, but your mother would never answer my letters or give you any of the ones I sent to you and---oh, Joy, I tried!" he exclaimed, finally letting her setting her down.

She wiped away the few tears that she had shed, then looked over at Bumlets. "How did...why---" But she couldn't complete the thought.

"He's Mr. Wilford's lawyer an' came in 'ere a few minutes ago wid somethin' for me an' I recognized the name," Bumlets answered her, then looked over at Jacob. "What was it Mr. Wilford sent again?"

"Oh, yes, it's a telegram I received this morning," Jacob answered, handing it to Bumlets, then putting an arm around his daugher's shoulders and hugging her close.

Bumlets read the long telegram and his mouth dropped open momentarily before he could recover from the shock.

"What is it?" Jocelyn asked, a little concerned as she slipped from her father's arm to walk around the counter and read the telegram herself. "Oh my God," she whispered. She looked up to her father. "He really wants to sell the store?"

Jacob nodded. "His sister isn't in the best of health and he wants to move to Connecticut to be closer to her."

"So dere goes my job, I guess," Bumlets said, handing the telegram back to Jacob. He looked over at Jocelyn. "Nobody'd pay me as well as Mr. Wilford does." He sighed. "We're gonna hafta put the weddin' off for awhile 'till I can find another job. I'm sorry, Joy."

"It's okay," she said, trying to not appear as disappointed as she was. She put her hand on his arm as a comforting gesture and swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. She knew that Bumlets had only lucked into such a good job and finding one to even come close to this one was going to be difficult, given his lack of formal education.

"Mr. Wilford sent a more detailed letter that arrived before the telegram that included this among many other things. That's why I only brought what I did, but he expressed that he'd prefer that the store be bought by someone he knows and trusts. You."

Bumlets shook his head. "Dat's real nice but I ain't got dat kinda money."

"He also said that if you'd like, you can buy it from him a little at a time. It may take a year or more, but he's willing to sell it quite cheap," Jacob encouraged.

Bumlets looked over at Joy, but she shrugged a little. He looked back at Jacob. Before he could speak, Jacob did. "Why don't you talk it over together. Can I come by later this evening?"

"Let me think 'bout it a lil' alone first, okay?" Bumlets asked. "Joy, why don't ya go 'ave lunch wid your dad an' when ya get back, we'll talk. You two 'ave some things of your own ta talk 'bout, ya know."

Jocelyn nodded and gave him a quick kiss. "I'll try not to be long."

After they left, Bumlets went to the desk in the back room and unlocked a lower drawer. Inside it was a secret drawer that he had discovered when he was cleaning out the desk for Mr. Wilford. The old man didn't have anything in it and so the next chance he got, Bumlets had stored his money there. He pushed the button to trigger it and counted the bills that were stashed away inside. It was everything he had saved since starting to work there---and it was just about enough to buy a ring for Jocelyn, or enough to make the first payment on the store.

**************

The first thing he did when Jocelyn returned, was close the store for lunch. Rather than eating, though, he brought her into the back room and showed her the money.

"Dis is all I've got in the world, Joy," he said, sitting in the desk chair while she stood in front of him. "I was gonna use it ta buy ya a ring."

"The store's more important than a ring," she said.

"Not ta me. I wanted ta be able ta give ya dat much, at least," he said, tossing the bills onto the desktop, "but I don't wanna hafta wait forever ta marry you."

She hesitated, then moved to sit in his lap and lay her cheek against his shoulder. "I don't want to wait to marry you any longer than we have already. As far as I'm concerned, I should have married you instead of going to Venice." She laughed a little sadly, then went on. "I can wait for a ring, but I can't wait to marry you."

He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. "I love ya, Joy," he whispered into her hair. "For a lot of reasons. I'll buy the store from Mr. Wilford lil' by lil', if you're sure."

She nodded. "I'm positive."

*************

They told Jacob their decision when he returned that evening and he looked relieved. "Mr. Wilford will enjoy hearing this," he assured them, then accepted the invitation to dinner.

At the end of their meal, someone knocked at the front door and Jocelyn went to answer it. She was a little surprised to find her mother standing on the other side, though not greatly. She unlocked the door and opened it.

"Mother. Fancy seeing you here," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It took me forever and a day to find out where you were!" Mary snapped. "And then what do I find out, but that you're living here, with that newsboy---unchaperoned!"

Jocelyn looked slightly amused. "Who told you?" she asked.

"Another one of those newsboys. Someone called him 'Cowboy'. What kind of ridiculous name is that?!"

"His name is Jack, Mother," Jocelyn corrected.

"Well at least that's a little better. Now I suppose you have an explanation for what you're doing here?" Mary asked.

"Actually, I do. First of all, I'm not living here 'with a newsboy', as you so eloquently put it, I'm living here with my fianc‚, a FORMER newsboy, who does have a name. Louis Covello, as a matter of fact. Secondly, he is buying this store from the owner and the owner's lawyer, a Mr. Jacob Larkson. You ARE familiar with him, aren't you, Mother?"

Mary's face had gone ashen at the mention of her ex-husband and she let out a strangled cry as he and Bumlets entered the store.

"Hello, Mary," Jacob said cooly. "It's been a long time."

"Not long enough!" she shot back, having recovered quickly. Then she turned her glare to Bumlets. "Fianc‚, I'm sure! I knew you would only be trouble for my daughter from the first time I saw you. Either you're marrying her for her money---not that she has much of it left, after running back here and leaving me to pay the bills in Venice---or you're marrying her because you've gone and gotten her in a fix."

Bumlets started to retort, but Jocelyn put her hand on his arm, stopping him. "I am NOT expecting a baby, Mother. We're going to be married for love. Or have you forgotten what that is?"

Mary only sighed in exasperation. "After all I've done for you, this is how you repay me, Jocelyn? By running away from a promising career to marry a---a store keeper?!"

"I don't owe you anything, Mother," she shot back. "And my name is 'Joy'. How many times must you hear it? I'm not 'Jocelyn' to anyone who truly cares."

"Then I wash my hands of you!" Mary exclaimed to her daughter. Then she turned on her ex-husband. "This is all on your shoulders, you know!" she said, her voice shrill. "You've always been responsible for her outlandish ways and I hope you're satisfied!"

She stormed out of the store and they watched her stalk down the street, each breathing sighs of relief as she disappeared for good.

*************

Because of the low price Mr. Wilford sold his store for and because of the large profit it continued to take in, Bumlets was able to own it in full six months later, with enough money left over to buy Jocelyn her ring, and only five months after the wedding. The short time it took Bumlets to buy the store and the half carat diamond ring that he astonished Jocelyn with weren't the only surprises, however. It seems as though Jocelyn had told a tiny lie to her mother that evening, though she couldn't have possibly known it when she did.

Nine months after that evening, Bumlets was permitted upstairs after an agonizing three hours to see his wife and new baby boy, whose red hair was exactly like his mother's. They named him after his father and grandfather, calling him Jacob Louis Covello. They did send a telegram to Mary once, telling her about Jacob's birth, but she never replied and that was the last time they attempted contact. More important to Bumlets than even his store was seeing Joy dance on the stage again, and on Jacob's first birthday, she did, performing the lead in the new ballet. The last thing she did, though, before leaving the stage, was to blow a single kiss to Bumlets, then grin and dart into the wings.