Dawn of the Golden Promise by BJ Hoff

been living at the old Brewery building, down at the Five Points, since Mammy died. When I heard about your house for homeless boys, I decided to look you up.”
    Evan shuddered at the mention of the old Brewery. The place was a veritable pit of squalor and immorality. A den for thieves and drunkards, even murderers.
    â€œIf I allow you to stay here, you would have to work, Oscar.”
    The boy nodded. “Oh, I wasn’t lookin’ to stay for free, Mistah Whittaker. I’m six. I can work for my keep. I’ll work hard.”
    Evan suppressed a smile. “Indeed, you will,” he said gravely. “Our b-boys here work very hard. And we study, too. You would b-be responsible for certain chores, and for your studies. There is no thievery, no cursing, and no fighting at Whittaker House. And n-no gambling,” he added, knowing the vice to be a favorite among the city’s street children.
    Oscar’s chin fell just a fraction, but his reply was quick in coming. “That’s okay, I s’pect.” He paused. “But do you reckon I could have me some supper before I go to work, Mistah Whittaker? I’m awful hungry.”
    Evan stroked his beard for a moment. “Very well, Oscar. Come along with me,” he said, motioning toward the big dining hall off to the right. “All our b-boys at Whittaker House take their meals together.”

4
Young Dreams
    I whispered, “I am too young.”
And then, “I am old enough”;
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
    W. B. YEATS (1865–1939)
    T he library was Quinn O’Shea’s favorite part of Whittaker House. The friendly oak-paneled room had become a kind of retreat to her—even more than her own bedroom, which in itself was a cozy place with ruffled white curtains, a small fireplace, and a window seat.
    During the first days of helping the family move into their quarters, there had been no time for exploring the rambling old house. Quinn had worked herself nearly to exhaustion each day. All the rooms, from the attic to basement, had to be thoroughly aired and cleaned; boxes unpacked; the pantry stocked—all this in addition to looking after Mrs. Whittaker and wee Teddy.
    The young girl, Johanna, helped whenever she was about, and the girl doted on Teddy. But she was often away at the Academy, an unusual school where they educated deaf children and taught them to speak.
    Quinn thought it remarkable entirely that a child like Johanna could learn to use her voice—and without hearing a word she said. Nothing short of a miracle, and that was the truth.
    But wasn’t her own presence here at Whittaker House also something of a miracle? She truly enjoyed being with the Whittakers—they were fine people who treated her almost like family.
    And the library—why, the library itself was a dream come true. To be given free access to such a treasure trove had at first seemed beyond belief. It had taken repeated assurances from Mr. Whittaker before Quinn finally felt at liberty to enter the room whenever she liked. Her first task had been to clean the premises thoroughly. While Daniel Kavanagh and Mr. Whittaker sorted and organized, she had dusted and scrubbed, polished and painted, until the room actually seemed to take on a luster from her efforts.
    Then, invited to choose any book on the shelves for her own reading pleasure, she had fallen onto the entire collection with an almost ravenous hunger. From the moment she had first learned to read, Quinn had loved books: the heft of them, the fine smell of the leather, the sound of their pages rustling ever so quietly as she turned each one with reverent care.
    Now as she stood in the middle of the room, she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the experience of being utterly surrounded by books. More books, she was sure, than she could read in a lifetime.
    The shelves were filled with a variety of volumes, many donated by Mr. Lewis