Her Benny: A Story of Street Life

by Silas K. Hocking

  CHAPTER XIII.

  The Tide turns.

  Be what thou seemest: live thy creed, Hold up to earth the torch divine; Be what thou prayest to be made; Let the great Master's steps be thine. --Bonar.

  How Benny lived through the next few weeks he never knew. It seemed tohim as if the world had become suddenly dark. The one little being whohad been the sunshine of his life was buried up in the damp cold grave,and now there seemed nothing to live for, nothing to work for, nothingeven to hope for; for what was all the world to him now his little Nellwas gone?

  He missed her everywhere, and was continually fancying he saw herrunning to meet him as he drew near the church where they had regularlymet for so long a time; and sometimes he would turn round with a suddenstart, and with the word "Nelly" on his lips, as he fancied he heard thepattering of her little feet behind him.

  He grew despondent, too. While Nelly lived there was some one to workfor, some one to bear rebuffs and insults for; but now what did itmatter whether he sold his matches or not? He could go hungry; he didnot mind. In fact, he did not seem to care what became of him. Thereseemed to him nothing to fight the world for--nothing.

  But for Joe he would have moped his life away in some dark corner whereno one could see him. But Joe taught him to believe that his littlesister was not lost, only gone before, and that perhaps she looked downupon him from heaven, and that it might grieve her to see him frettingso.

  So he tried to sell his matches or earn a penny in some other way in alistless, hopeless manner. But it was very hard work. And when eveningcame he would drag himself wearily to his little corner under granny'sstairs, and generally sob himself to sleep. He missed his littlecompanion in the evenings almost more than at any time, and wished thathe had died with her.

  Sometimes he went out to the cemetery to see her grave; and no one knewwhat the little fellow suffered as he knelt there with clasped hands,dropping scalding tears upon the cold earth that hid his little sisterfrom his sight.

  He seemed to take no comfort in anything, not even in the story-booksthat granny had hunted up for him, and which he was beginning to read sonicely. He was proud of his learning while Nelly lived; but all that waschanged now.

  And so the weeks wore away, and winter came in dark and cold. But peoplegenerally did not seem to mind the darkness nor the cold, for Christmaswas drawing near, and they were anticipating a time of mirth andmerrymaking, of friendly greetings and family gatherings.

  The trains began to be crowded again with homecomers for their holidays;shopkeepers began to vie with each other as to which could presentin their windows the grandest display; the streets were crowded withwell-dressed people who were getting in a stock of Christmas cheer; andeverywhere people seemed bent on enjoying themselves to the utmost oftheir ability.

  All this, however, only seemed to make Benny sadder than ever. Heremembered how the Christmas before Nelly was with him, and he was ashappy and light-hearted as he well could be. Yet now the very happinessof the people seemed to mock his sorrow, and he wished that Christmaswas gone again.

  One bitterly cold afternoon he was at his old place, waiting for therailway boat to come up to the stage, in the hope that some one ofits many passengers would permit him to carry his or her bag, whenhe noticed a gentleman standing against the side of the boat with aportmanteau in his right hand, and holding the hand of a little girl inhis left.

  The boat was a long time coming to, for a heavy sea was running at thetime, and the gentleman seemed to get terribly impatient at the delay.But Benny was rather glad of it, for he had abundant opportunity oflooking at the little girl, whose pleasant, smiling face reminded himmore of his little dead sister than any face he had ever seen.

  "Golly, ain't she purty!" said Benny to himself; "and don't that woollystuff look hot round her jacket! And what long hair she have!--a'most aslong as little Nell's," and he brushed his hand quickly across his eyes."An' she looks good an' kind, too. I specks the gent is her par."

  And Benny regarded the gentleman more attentively than he had hithertodone.

  "Well now, ain't that cur'us!" he muttered. "If that ain't the very gentwhose portmantle I carried the night faather wolloped me so. I'll try myluck agin, for he's a good fare, an' not to be sneezed at."

  By this time the gangway had been let down, and the gentleman and hislittle girl were among the first to hurry on to the stage. In a momentBenny had stepped forward, and touching his cap very respectfully, said,

  "Carry yer bag, sir?"

  "No," said the gentleman shortly, and hurried on.

  "Oh, please, sir, do!" said Benny, his eyes filling with tears. "I's hadno luck to-day."

  But the gentleman did not heed his tears or his pleading voice. He hadbeen annoyed at the delay of the boat, and he was in no mood to brookfurther delay. So he said sternly,

  "Be off with you this moment!"

  Benny turned away with a great sob, for since Nelly died rebuffs hadbecome doubly hard to bear. He did not try to get another fare, butstood looking out on the storm-tossed river, trying to gulp down thegreat lumps that rose continually in his throat.

  "I specks I'll have to starve," he thought bitterly, "for I can't get acopper to-day nohow."

  Just then he felt a touch on his arm, and turning his brimming eyes, hesaw the little girl he had noticed on the boat.

  "What's the matter, little boy?" she said, in a voice that sounded likemusic to the sad-hearted child.

  They were the first kind words that had been spoken to him for the day,and they completely broke him down.

  At length he stammered out between his sobs,

  "Oh, I's so hungry an' cold, an' little Nelly's dead; an' all the worldis agin me."

  "Have you no father?" she said.

  "No; I's no father, nor mother, nor sister, nor nobody. Nelly was all Ihad in the world, an' now she's dead."

  "Poor boy!" said the kindly little voice. "And how do you get yourliving?"

  "Oh, I sells matches or carries gents' portmantles when they'll let me,or anything honest as turns up."

  "Well, don't think papa is unkind because he spoke cross to you, but hehad been annoyed. And here is a shilling he gave me to-day; you need itmore than I do, so I will give it to you. Are you here every day?"

  "Ay, I's mostly here every day," said Benny, closing his fingers aroundthe bright shilling as one in a dream.

  The next moment he was alone. He looked everywhere for the little girl,but she was nowhere visible.

  "Golly!" said Benny, rubbing his eyes, "I wonder now if she wur ahangel. Nelly said as 'ow the Lord 'ud provide. An' mebbe He sent herwith that bob. I wish I had looked more particler to see if she hadwings, 'cause Nelly said as how hangels had wings."

  More than twenty times that afternoon Benny looked at the bright newshilling that had been given him; the very sight of it seemed to do himgood. It seemed to turn the tide, too, in his favour, for before darkhe had earned another shilling; and that evening he trudged to his homewith a lighter heart than he had known for many a week.

  The weather on Christmas Eve was anything but orthodox. There wasneither frost nor snow; but, on the contrary, it was close and sultry.Benny had been out in the neighbourhood of Edge Hill with a big bundlefor a woman, who dismissed him with three halfpence, and the remark thatyoung vagabonds like he always charged twice as much as they expected toget. So Benny was trudging home in a not very happy frame of mind. Hehad been tolerably fortunate, however, during the early part of the day,and that compensated him to some extent for his bad afternoon's work.

  As he was passing along a street in the neighbourhood of Falkner Squarehe was arrested by the sound of music and singing. Now, as we havehinted before, Benny was very sensitive to the influence of music, and,in fact, anything beautiful had a peculiar charm for him. The window ofthe house before which he stopped stood slightly open, so that he wasnot only able to hear the music, but also to distinguish the words thatwere being s
ung.

  It was a pure childish voice that was singing to a simple accompanimenton the piano,--

  "There is beauty all around, When there's love at home; There is joy in every sound, When there's love at home. Peace and plenty here abide, Smiling sweet on every side; Time doth softly, sweetly glide, When there's love at home."

  Benny waited, as if rooted to the ground, until the song ended; waiteda minute longer in the hope that the singer would begin again. And inthat minute the little singer came to the window and looked out and sawour hero; and Benny, looking up at the same moment, saw the face of hisangel, and hurried away out of sight, as if he had been guilty of somewrong.

  The little singer was Eva Lawrence, the daughter of a well-to-do man ofbusiness in the town. She was not ten years of age by several months,but she was unusually thoughtful for her age, and was as kind-hearted asshe was thoughtful.

  As soon as Mr. Lawrence had finished his tea that evening, and hadbetaken himself to his easy chair, little Eva clambered upon his knee,and, putting her arms about his neck, said,

  "Papa, what do you think?"

  "Oh, I think ever so many things," he replied, laughing.

  "Now, you naughty man, you're going to tease again. But I've begun wrongway about, as usual. I want to ask a favour."

  "I expected as much, Eva," said her father, smiling. "But how many moreChristmas presents will you want?"

  "But this is not a present exactly."

  "Oh, indeed," he said, pretending to look serious.

  "Now, don't be a tease," she said, pulling his whiskers, "for I'm quiteserious. Now listen."

  "I'm all attention, my dear."

  "You want a little boy to run errands and sweep out the office, and dolittle odd jobs, don't you?"

  "Well, who has been telling you that?"

  "Nobody, papa; I only wanted to know, you see. So you do, don't you?"

  "Well, I shall the beginning of the year, for the boy I have is leaving.But what has that to do with my little girl?"

  "Well, papa, our teacher is always telling us that we ought to be littlemissionaries, and lend a helping hand to the needy whenever possible,and do all the good we can."

  "Quite right, my dear; but I can't see yet what my little girl isdriving at."

  "Well, she was telling us only last Sunday that lots of people wouldbe better if they had better surroundings; and that if something couldbe done to get those little street Arabs more out of the reach oftemptation, they might grow up to be good and honest men and women."

  "Well, Eva?"

  "Well, papa, I should like for you to give one of those little streetboys a chance."

  "Who do you mean?"

  "That poor boy I gave the shilling to on the landing-stage the otherday, don't you remember--when you called me a silly girl?"

  "And were you not silly, Eva?"

  "No, papa, I don't think I was; for I am sure the boy is not bad, he hassuch honest eyes. And he said he had no father, nor mother, nor brother,nor sister, and he seemed in such trouble."

  "Well, my child?"

  "You know now what I mean, papa. I confess I had quite forgotten thepoor boy till this afternoon I saw him standing in front of the house. Ihad been singing 'Love at Home,' and he had been listening, I think; andI fancy it had made him sad, for his eyes were full of tears, but whenhe saw he was noticed he hurried away as quickly as possible."

  "And suppose I should decide to employ this boy, Eva, where should Ifind him?"

  "Oh, he said he was nearly always on the landing-stage. He sold matchesthere, except when he was running errands."

  "Well, I will think about it, Eva."

  "Oh, promise, papa, there's a good man."

  "I don't believe in making rash promises, Eva," said Mr. Lawrencekindly; "and, besides, I have very little faith in those street boys.They are taught to be dishonest from their infancy, and it is adifficult matter for them to be anything else; but I'll think about it."

  And Mr. Lawrence was as good as his word; he did think about it, and,what is more, he decided to give the little boy a trial.

  Benny was on the landing-stage on New Year's Day when Mr. Lawrence wasreturning from Chester. He had scarcely left the railway boat whenseveral lads crowded around him with "Carry yer bag, sir?" Benny amongthe number.

  He quickly recognized our hero from the description Eva gave, and placedhis bag in Benny's hand, giving him the address of his office. Arrivedthere, much to Benny's bewilderment, he was invited inside, and Mr.Lawrence began to ply him with questions, all of which he answered in astraightforward manner, for there was little in his life that he caredto hide.

  Mr. Lawrence was so much impressed in the boy's favour that he engagedhim at once, promising him two shillings a week more than he hadintended to give.

  When Benny at length comprehended his good fortune--for it was some timebefore he did--he sobbed outright. Looking up at length with streamingeyes, he blurted out, "I can't tell 'e how 'bliged I is," and ran out ofthe office and hurried home to tell granny the news, not quite certainin his own mind whether he was awake or dreaming.

  Granny was upstairs when Benny burst into the room, and when she camedown the first thing she saw was Benny standing on his head.

  "Oh, granny," he shouted, "I's made my fortin! I's a gent at last!"

  Granny was a considerable time before she could really discover fromBenny what had happened; but when she did discover she seemed as pleasedas the child. And a bigger fire was made up, and a more sumptuous supperwas got ready in honour of the occasion.