in his lap. But Benny, notwithstanding his occasional day-dreams, was sufficiently matter-of-fact to know that if he was to win any success in life, it must be by hard work.
He was already able to read very creditably. But now a new desire seized him—he would learn to write as well. But how was he to begin? He had to confess that that was a poser, for neither granny nor Joe could give him any assistance. Still he had set his heart upon learning to write, and he was not to be defeated.
So one day he said to one of Mr. Lawrence's clerks—
"Does yer think, Mr. Morgan, that I could learn to write if I was to try very hard?"
"Of course you could, Benny," said Mr. Morgan, looking kindly down into the dark earnest-looking eyes of the office boy. For Benny had done several little things for Mr. Morgan, and so that gentleman was disposed to be kind to the little waif.
"But how is I to begin?" said Benny eagerly.
"I'm busy now," said Mr. Morgan, "but if you will wait till to-morrow, I'll bring you a slate and pencil and will set you a copy, and then you'll be able to begin right off."
Just then Mr. Lawrence called Benny from the inner office, and sent him with a note to Mrs. Lawrence, with instructions to wait for an answer.
"You know the way, Benny?"
"Yes, sir."
"But you've never been to the house?"
"No, sir."
