Her Benny: A Story of Street Life

by Silas K. Hocking

  CHAPTER XV.

  A Terrible Alternative.

  Sow truth, if thou the true wouldst reap,-- Who sows the false shall reap the vain; Erect and sound thy conscience keep, From hollow words and deeds refrain.

  Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure; Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright; Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor, And reap a harvest home of light --Bonar.

  The days of peace and sunshine sped all too swiftly. Winter soon gaveplace to budding spring, and spring lengthened into summer. Twelvemonths had passed since that happy day in Eastham Woods, for June hadcome again; and the parks and squares were once more green, and thestreets were hot and dusty.

  It had been a strange year to Benny. Pain and pleasure had strangelycommingled. Never had he felt such sorrow, never had he known such joy.The old year had closed in sorrow and despair; the new year had openedin joy and hope.

  Benny had grown much during those twelve months, for neither thechastening of grief nor the stimulus of kindness had been lost uponhim. Both had done him good, and so the year had been to him one ofgrowth--growth in every sense. He had grown physically. He was barelytwelve yet, but he was well developed for his age; especially soconsidering how little had been the care bestowed on his childhood. Hisface was open and pleasant, and there was a frank honest expression inhis eyes that won him favour wherever he went.

  He had grown, too, mentally. Mr. Morgan had regularly set him copies,and Mr. Lawrence, discovering his eagerness to learn, had lent himbooks that would help him in the pursuit of knowledge. He became a mostdiligent student. At first he sought after knowledge as a means to anend. He believed that it would help him in the race of life. But thefarther he advanced the pleasanter became his studies, and knowledgebecame precious for its own sake. What at first he set before himself asa stern and even unpleasant duty, became at last a joy and delight.

  He was eager also to improve his manners. He was anxious to speakcorrectly, and not be a disgrace to the gentleman who employed him andthe butt of the clerks. And it was wonderful what progress he made inthis respect. It is true that he frequently forgot himself, and the oldexpressions that habit had made familiar rolled easily from his tongue.But he had made up his mind to conquer, and he was certainly succeeding.

  And last, but not least, he had grown morally. For three months he hadregularly attended the Sunday-school, and among the five hundred boysand girls that assembled regularly week after week there was not amore diligent inquirer than Benny. The spiritual discernment that JoeWrag thought he lacked was being given, and the "old, old story" wasbeginning to have a wonderful fascination for him.

  Mr. Lawrence was wonderfully pleased with his _protege_, and had decidedthat if during the next six months he made such progress as he had donein the past, he should be promoted to a higher position.

  Benny regarded his fortune as made. Never had life seemed so brightto him as, one Saturday afternoon, he was busy at work putting Mr.Lawrence's office in order. There was no one in the office but himself.Mr. Lawrence had just left, giving him instructions that he must waittill Mr. Morgan returned, who would lock up the offices, and then he(Benny) must bring up the keys to his residence.

  Benny had swept out the inner office, put the few books that were lyingabout in their proper places on the shelves, and was busy dusting thefurniture, humming to himself the song that haunted him continually--

  "There is beauty all around, When there's love at home,"

  when Mr. Lawrence came in hurriedly, and went straight to his desk andbegan to search carefully among the few papers that were lying on it;then he looked behind it, around it, and underneath it, but it wasevident, from the perplexed look on his face, that he could not findwhat he was in search of.

  "Benny," he called, "come here."

  And Benny came in from the outer office, to which he had retired on Mr.Lawrence's appearance.

  "Has Mr. Morgan returned yet?" demanded Mr. Lawrence, in a stern voice.

  "No, sir," said Benny, wondering what had happened.

  "Has any one been here since I left?"

  "No, sir."

  "You are quite sure?"

  "Yes, sir, quite sure."

  "Then will you tell me what has become of the five-pound note that Ileft lying on the desk when I went out?" And he looked straight inBenny's face.

  Benny turned pale, for he knew what the question implied, but he didnot quail before Mr. Lawrence's stern gaze, and, looking his employerstraight in the eyes, he answered,

  "I do not know, sir; I have not seen it."

  "Now, Benny," said Mr. Lawrence, "mind what you are saying."

  In a moment his face flushed crimson as he answered,

  "Did you ever know me lie, sir?"

  "No, Benny," answered Mr. Lawrence; "I never did, nor steal either.Though I can quite conceive how, in a moment of weakness, you might betempted to do both."

  "But I've done neither," said Benny, with trembling lip.

  For a moment Mr. Lawrence was silent, then he said,

  "Look here, Benny. I left a five-pound note on the desk when I went out.I am quite certain of that--as certain as I am that I stand here at thismoment. And, according to your own statement, no one but yourself hasbeen in the office since I left, and when I come back the note is gone.What am I to think?"

  "It's mighty queer, sir," said Benny, turning pale again; "but I hopeyou'll not think that I've took it."

  "I'm afraid that I must think so."

  Then there was another pause, while Benny trembled from head to foot. Atlength Mr. Lawrence spoke again.

  "I do not wish to be hard with you, Benny," he said; "and if you willonly confess that you have taken the note, I will forgive you."

  "And if I was to tell a lie and say I took it, you would ask me for itat once, and I ain't got it." And Benny burst into tears.

  "No, I will be more lenient still, for I know what a grief it will be tomy little girl when she hears about it. If you will only confess thatyou have taken it, I won't even ask you to return it. But if you willnot confess, I'm afraid the law will have to take its course."

  Poor Benny! It was a terrible moment to him, and he tried to realizehow much depended upon his answer. By telling a lie he might stillkeep his situation and the friendship of his little benefactress, andyet reach the heights to which his ambition pointed. But if he stuckto the truth, what would there be? A prison, perhaps, and then the oldlife in the streets--hunger and weariness and cold. True, if he told alie Mr. Lawrence would then have no doubt of his guilt. But, alas! hewould still believe him guilty if he told the truth, and not only Mr.Lawrence, but every one else that knew him would regard him as a thief.

  It was a terrible alternative. Tell a lie, and still go on the shiningway that for months had been opening up before him; tell the truth, andgo back to the old life, that would now seem worse than death--go backto want and disgrace.

  At one time he would not have been long in deciding the question. Butconscience had been awakened since then, and, while he hesitated,the little pale face of his dead sister rose up between him and hisemployer, and a voice within seemed to whisper, "Tell the truth, Benny,and the Lord will provide."

  It was a brief interval since Mr. Lawrence had spoken, but in those fewmoments Benny had fought the fiercest battle of his life, and had wonthe victory.

  He lifted his swimming eyes to Mr. Lawrence and said,

  "I cannot tell a lie, sir." That was all.

  Mr. Lawrence regarded him for a few moments in silence, then left theoffice with a deeply puzzled expression on his face. He did not knowwhat to think. Either Benny was honest or he was a most hardened thief,and somehow he felt that the boy could not be the latter. He had alwaysfound him so truthful and thoughtful and obliging. There seemed nothingbad about the boy. And yet where could that note be if he had not takenit?

  And again he walked back into the office, and commenced a search morecareful and diligent than before, but
all without avail: the note wasnowhere to be found.

  Sorely puzzled what to do, he left the office once more, and hadscarcely got into the street when he stumbled across Police-inspectorSharp.

  "Good afternoon," said the inspector, touching his hat.

  "Good afternoon," said Mr. Lawrence, passing on. He had not gone manysteps, however, before he turned back.

  "I don't know but that it is a fortunate thing, Sharp, that I have metyou," he said. "The fact is, I'm in a bit of a difficulty, and I don'tknow a more likely man than you to help me out."

  "I'm at your service, sir," said Mr. Sharp, "and if I can render you anyassistance, I shall be most happy to do so."

  "Well, the fact is," said Mr. Lawrence, and he went on to tell allthe circumstances connected with the missing note, and finished up bysaying, "But somehow I cannot for the life of me believe the boy hasstolen it."

  "Indeed, now," said Mr. Sharp, putting on a professional air, "I cannotfor the life of me believe that the urchin has _not_ stolen it. So yousee my difficulty is in the opposite direction, Mr. Lawrence."

  "But you don't know this lad, Mr. Sharp."

  "Well, perhaps, I don't know this particular young dog, but I know thewhole tribe of them," said Mr. Sharp, trying to look wise, "and I tellyou they are all rogues and vagabonds, from the oldest to the youngestof 'em. Bless you, it is bred in their very bones, and they couldn't behonest if they were to try ever so."

  "But this boy has been with me six months, and a nicer lad I never knew."

  "Ay, yes, Mr. Lawrence, their cunning is amazing; and they can play thehypocrite equal to old Satan himself. I tell you what, sir, if you hadhad the experience of 'em that I've had, you'd mistrust the whole tribeof 'em."

  "Well, I dare say, Sharp, you know more about them than I do, and Iconfess that it was with some amount of misgiving that I engaged theboy; but he has never taken anything before."

  "Did you ever give him the chance?"

  "Well, perhaps not," said Mr. Lawrence, looking thoughtful.

  "Just so," said Inspector Sharp. "The young dog has patiently waited hisopportunity. Oh, bless you, sir, they know their game."

  "But what had I better do?" said Mr. Lawrence, looking puzzled.

  "If you'll leave the matter to me," said Mr. Sharp, "_I'll_ work theoracle for you, and very likely restore you the missing money."

  "I'm very unwilling to prosecute," said Mr. Lawrence, in a troubled toneof voice.

  "Just so, just so. I quite understand your feeling. But you'll not haveneed to do much in that direction, I can assure you," said Mr. Sharp, ina patronizing manner.

  "Well," said Mr. Lawrence, looking like a man that had made up his mindto submit to a painful operation, "I'll leave the matter in your hands."

  Half an hour later, as Benny stood in the street waiting until Mr.Morgan had locked the doors, a police constable came forward and touchedhim on the arm.

  "You'll come with me!" he said. "I've found fresh lodgings for youto-night."

  "Did Mr. Lawrence send you?" said Benny, the tears standing in his eyes.

  "The orders came from him in the first place," said the policeman; "heintends to stop your cribbing for a week or two."

  "Oh, but I didn't steal the money," sobbed Benny, "I didn't really."

  "They all say that," laughed the constable; "but from what I can hear,you're a particular cunning dog. However, you're caught this time."

  Benny felt that it was of no use saying any more, so he walked along bythe officer's side with the calmness of despair settling down upon hisheart.

  He had no wish to resist. He knew it would be useless for him to attemptto do so. He had lost everything now, and the only thing he hoped forwas that death might come speedily, and that he might soon be laid torest by the side of his little sister, and be at peace for ever.

  He thought everybody was looking at him, as the officer led him throughthe streets, and he could not help feeling thankful now that Nelly wasdead. Such disgrace would break her heart if she were alive. And for thefirst time he felt glad that she was sleeping in her grave.

  How changed everything had become in one short day! A few hours agohe was mourning the loss of his sister; now he was glad that she wasnumbered with the dead. But one short hour before the world had neverseemed so bright, and he had thought how he should enjoy the beautifulsummer evening in Wavertree Park; now the world had never seemed socheerless and dark, and his evening was to be spent in a prison cell.

  Poor boy! it is no wonder that he wished he might die, for every hopehad been blasted in an hour.

  On arriving at the police station he was thrust into his cell withouta word. He was thankful to find that it was empty, for he wanted to bealone with his thoughts. Selecting the darkest corner, he crouched downupon the floor and rested his head upon his knees. He could not weep,his grief was too great for tears. He could only think and think, untilhis thoughts seemed to scorch his very brain. And as he crouched thus,while the hours of that summer's afternoon and evening dragged slowlyalong, his whole life passed vividly before him, he seemed to live itall over again, and he asked himself if he could go back to the old lifeof hunger and cold in the streets.

  When Nelly was with him, and they knew no other life, they were notunhappy. But he had had a glimpse of Paradise since then. He had tastedthe joys of hope and had cherished dreams of a happy future, and he feltthat it would be easier to die than to return in disgrace to what he hadthought he had left behind him for ever.

  It was very hard that just as the world seemed brightest, and hopeseemed growing into certainty--just as the path of life was gettingclear, and the end seemed certain, that he should be thus thrust down,and thrust down to a lower depth than he had known in his darkest days.

  Could it be true, he asked himself again and again, that he, who hadbeen trying so hard to be good and truthful and honest, was really inprison on a charge of theft? It had come upon him so suddenly that hethought sometimes it must be all some horrid dream, and that he wouldsurely awake some time and find the bright future still before him.

  And so the hours wore away, and the light faded in the little patch ofsky that was visible through his high grated window, and the cell grewdarker and more dismal all the while.

  At length there was a tramp of feet in the courtyard outside. The keygrated in the lock, the door flew open, and two lads were tumbled intothe cell. These were followed in half an hour by three others, and Bennybecame aware by the noises in the courtyard that other cells were beingfilled as well as the one he occupied. And, as the darkness deepened,night grew hideous with shouts, and laughter, and songs, and curses loudand deep.

  It seemed to him as if he had got to the very mouth of hell. Nothingthat he had ever heard in Addler's Hall or Bowker's Row could at allcompare with what he heard that night: now there was the sound of blows;now cries for help; now shrieks of murder, accompanied by volleys ofoaths and shouts of laughter.

  The companions of his own cell were on the whole tolerably orderly,and were evidently disposed to make the best of their situation. Theystarted several songs, but in every case broke down at the end of thesecond line, so at length they gave up trying, and settled themselvesdown to sleep.

  It was far on towards morning before all grew still, but silence diddrop down upon the prisoners at last; and Benny, weary with countingthe beats of his heart, dropped at length into a troubled sleep. It waslate in the morning when he awoke again, and for a moment he was unableto recall what had happened or where he was. Then the memory of the pastevening rushed in upon him like a flood, and he buried his face in hishands in the misery of despair.

  He wondered what granny would think of his absence, and what his teacherwould think in the Sunday-school. Alas! he should see them no more, forhow could he go to them with such a stain upon his name?

  While he was musing thus he was startled by a familiar voice addressinghim, and looking up he saw Perks looking at him, with a broad grin uponhis countenance.

&nb
sp; "Well, this are a onexpected pleasure!" he said. "I's jolly glad to seeyer, Ben. Yer see, I's of a very forgivin' natur'."

  But Benny made no reply. He only wondered if his misery would ever end.

  "In the dumps, eh?" continued Perks. "Well, I an' my mates'll help youout in quick sticks: now let's have a song all together. You ken takethe big end, that's the bass, yer know."

  "I want to be quiet," said Benny; "do let me alone."

  "In course I'll let 'e alone. I looks like it, don't I? I's a veryforgivin' natur', Mister Benjamin Bates, you knows that, though I don'tforget. But the fact is, I's so pleased to 'ave yer company agin, thatI'm bound to show my delight in some way."

  "If you don't take yourself off, Perks, you'll wish you had," said Benny.

  "Now, don't be touchy, Mr. Bates. But let's dance a cornpipe, while oneo' my mates whistles 'Pop goes the Weasel.'"

  Poor Benny! he could not escape his tormentor, so he bore throughoutthat weary Sabbath, as best he could, a series of petty persecutions. Hetried to be patient, he even tried to pray, but the only prayer he couldutter was, "O Lord, kill me at once, and put me out of misery."