If she recalled correctly, his name was Phillip Cavendish, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember his title. Setting her tray down on a ston... bench, she approached the boy with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon…” she started, desperately trying to remember if he was a ‘Lord,’ a ‘Sir,’ or a ‘Mister.’ Frustrated, she gave up and finished with, “Good afternoon, Lord Cavendish,” at least if she’d guessed wrong it wouldn’t be an insult to his rank. The boy smiled at her, and the expression. .. unexpected ... even awkward. Her dainty feet outgrew her size one shoes ... all one hundred pair of tiny dress up, almost adult but not quite shoes almost over night. She mourned their passing as she took the three big bags of shoe boxes down to the redistribution center ... they put them in the children’s section. The dressy dresses, the redistribution center took those to “the awkward side of town“ and passed them out to stunted growth girls with the admonition to pass them on when out. More

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