by Pamela Tremblay

Created on: October 02, 2008

Gertrude had never ridden in a fancy enclosed carriage before. There was a man patiently holding the door open, waiting for her to get in. When she attempted to scramble in on her own and failed, he scooped her up like a bag of potatoes and deposited her on the smooth leather seat opposite the woman.

After the door clicked shut behind her, she realized the leather was smelly and it was very dark inside. Gertrude tried not to be scared as the carriage started with a jolt. The woman did not even glance at her, but continued to gaze out the window, so the girl slid her hand into her pocket and stroked Ernest softly to reassure herself as they raced away from the orphanage.

"Who is your friend?" the woman asked, without looking away from the window.

Gertrude gasped, "What friend?" and withdrew her hand quickly.

The woman turned her head and looked Gertrude right in the eye.

"The one you have in your pocket," she said quietly. When the little girl did not respond, the woman turned back to the window and said, "I am Madame LaTourelle. You will call me Madame for now. What do they call you?"

Gertrude wondered at this. It seemed strange that the woman would adopt her without even knowing her name.
Cautiously, she replied, "Gertrude."

"Gertrude. But they call you something else, too. Dirty Gertie, isn't that it?"

Gertrude felt very small all of a sudden. Very small and very alone. A lump rose in her throat and she nodded silently, hanging her head. She hated that name. At first it hurt her feelings when the children said it, but then she got mad and made them pay every chance she got, but she had never heard an adult say it. It hurt all over again to hear it come from Madame's lips.

Madame looked at her again and inquired, "Do you like this name?"

It was too dark to read Madame's expression. The girl could not tell if she was teasing. She was too scared to tell the woman she had wished a hundred times her name was something else. Finally she replied, "No, I don't know.
It has always been the name they called me." She hoped she didn't sound impertinent, so she added, "Ma'am."

"If you could choose a name other than this one, what name would you choose?"

The girl thought for a long time. She knew what she wanted to say, but she was afraid the woman would think she was silly. Several minutes passed and she could feel Madame looking at her, waiting.

"I read about a girl named Pursepone once," she blurted and then clapped a hand over her mouth. What an idiot she was, why did she tell her?

Silence followed, and then Madame said softly, "Do you mean Persephone?"

Gertrude moaned. She didn't even know how to pronounce the name, and now the lady would certainly think she was dim-witted.

"This is a good name, Persephone. It suits better than Gertie," mused Madame, "From this moment on, you shall be known as Persephone. Percy if a diminutive is necessary."

The girl thought she heard a smile, but she wasn't sure. Suddenly Madame's fingertips were at her temple and she heard the woman whisper, "Sleep, Persephone. It is a long journey to your new home."

Her eyelids immediately began to droop, and then she fell asleep without another thought.

When Percy opened her eyes, she was stretched out on the seat cushion with Madame's warm fur over her. The leather was still smelly, but she thought it was a rather nice smell. The carriage was no longer creaking and rocking.

She slipped her hand into her pocket to stroke Ernest, but he was gone and she sat up in alarm.

Madame was still sitting across from her, studying her closely. Coiled around the lady's hand was Ernest, looking quite contented.

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