"Don't bother me none," Charley offered with a shrug. It meant pulling out her hands again, and she scratched at her bare head once before catching herself. The buttons of her vest came apart, one after another, and the urchin was pretty sure they could have been here all day if that vest had just one more button. Her shirt came off easier, and when she dropped her trousers into the growing pile on top of her doffed shoes, the urchin cast one eye at the ghostly lady.

"They're not worth much, y'know?"

Except to Charley, really. She stood in front of the nurse in just her undershirt and drawers, not worried much about modesty. It was no different than changing into a costume for a play, she had done that in front of her parents' troupe often enough. She only worried about keeping an eye on her clothes, they were about the only ones she had.

There was one more shirt the urchin had stashed away, with a rip down the back she still needed to mend. A change of drawers for washing day, when she could get clean water without being chased out of the park. And her one dress she could still fit into, just a bit shabbier and tighter on her than it used to be. Charley didn't need all the finery some people walked around in, what she had was plenty good enough for her. She only wanted to keep it, and keep an eye on it.

"Lessee, today's a Sunday?" Papa always called it a Funday, for reasons he kept changing when she asked. Ambros told once it was for all the funerals on a Sunday, but that couldn't be right. What was fun about a funeral? Except hers, maybe, someone was sure to be happy for one less begging mouth to feed.

Charley held up a hand of fingers to the nurse while the other scratched idly under the fabric of her undershirt, thinking back to when she had last been itch-free. Might have been Friday, if not for the whole episode of chasing down her wayward cap on Thursday. "Thursday, prolly." Her hand was down to three fingers, then she added another. "Nope, Wednesday, for sure!"

"Why'd'y'wanna know?"

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