"Father," said Esther, the never before received species of letter trembling in her hand, "we must go at once to see Benjy. He is very ill."
"Has he written to say so?"
"No, this is a telegram. I have read of such. Oh! perhaps he is dead. It is always so in books. They break the news by saying the dead are still alive." Her tones died away in a sob. The children clustered round her—Rachel and Solomon fought for the telegram in their anxiety to read it. Ikey and Sarah stood grave and interested. The sick grandmother sat up in bed excited.
"He never showed me his 'four corners,'" she moaned. "Perhaps he did not wear the fringes at all."
"Father, dost thou hear?" said Esther, for Moses Ansell was fingering the russet envelope with a dazed air. "We must go to the Orphanage at once."
"Read it! What stands in the letter?" said Moses Ansell.
She took the telegram from the hands of Solomon. "It stands, 'Come up at once. Your son Benjamin very ill.'"
"Tu! Tu! Tu!" clucked Moses. "The poor child. But how can we go up? Thou canst not walk there. It will take me more than three hours."
His praying-shawl slid from his shoulders in his agitation.
"Thou must not walk, either!" cried Esther excitedly. "We must get to him at once! Who knows if he will be alive when we come? We must go by train from London Bridge the way Benjy came that Sunday. Oh, my poor Benjy!"