Her Benny: A Story of Street Life

by Silas K. Hocking

"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; "he intends 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 by the officer's side with the calmness of despair settling down upon his heart.

He had no wish to resist. He knew it would be useless for him to attempt to do so. He had lost everything now, and the only thing he hoped for was that death might come speedily, and that he might soon be laid to rest 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 through the streets, and he could not help feeling thankful now that Nelly was dead. Such disgrace would break her heart if she were alive. And for the first time he felt glad that she was sleeping in her grave.

How changed everything had become in one short day! A few hours ago he was mourning the loss of his sister; now he was glad that she was numbered with the dead. But one short hour before the world had never seemed so bright, and he had thought how he should enjoy the beautiful summer evening in Wavertree Park; now the world had never seemed so cheerless 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 hope had been blasted in an hour.

On arriving at the police station he was thrust into his cell without a word. He was thankful to find that it was empty, for he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Selecting the darkest corner, he crouched down upon 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, until his thoughts seemed to scorch his very brain. And as he crouched thus, while the hours of that summer's afternoon and evening dragged slowly along, his whole life passed vividly before him, he seemed to live it all over again, and he asked himself if he could go back to the old life of hunger and cold in the streets.