"Then how do you know the way?"
"It's where you has the music an' 'love at home,' sir, ain't it?"
Mr. Lawrence smiled and said—
"You are on the right track, Benny, I think. Go to the house, and give this note to the servant that opens the door, and say that you have to wait for an answer."
"Yes, sir," said Benny, bowing very politely, and hurrying out of the office.
Benny had often longed to listen under the window of Mr. Lawrence's house, that he might hear again the song that had so touched his heart, and see again the little angel face through whose intercession he owed his good fortune; for Mr. Lawrence had hinted as much as that to him. But even if nothing had ever been said, he would still have connected Mr. Lawrence's kindness to him with his little daughter, who had spoken so kindly to him in the hour of his sorrow and despair, and whose bright shilling he still kept, and regarded with almost superstitious reverence.
But he had never dared to listen under the window again; he felt somehow as if he had no business in that neighbourhood, no right to look upon the face of his little benefactress; so he kept away and spent his long winter evenings by granny's fireside, poring over the few books that she and Joe were able to procure for him.
Benny could not help wondering, as he hurried along the streets, holding the letter very carefully in his hand, whether he would see again the little face at the window
