"Well now, ain't that cur'us!" he muttered. "If that ain't the very gent whose portmantle I carried the night faather wolloped me so. I'll try my luck 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 his little girl were among the first to hurry on to the stage. In a moment Benny 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 had no luck to-day."
But the gentleman did not heed his tears or his pleading voice. He had been annoyed at the delay of the boat, and he was in no mood to brook further delay. So he said sternly,
"Be off with you this moment!"
Benny turned away with a great sob, for since Nelly died rebuffs had become doubly hard to bear. He did not try to get another fare, but stood looking out on the storm-tossed river, trying to gulp down the great lumps that rose continually in his throat.
"I specks I'll have to starve," he thought bitterly, "for I can't get a copper to-day nohow."
Just then he felt a touch on his arm, and turning his brimming eyes, he saw the little girl he had noticed on the boat.