cost Benny a tremendous effort, for, fearing that granny would not be able to read writing, he had, to use his own words, "to print it," and he found it to be a rather slow process. The letter was to the following effect:—
"Deer Grany,—I ken never come 'ome no more. You's heerd what's took plaas, but I newer stole the money. I is 'onest for shure; I dunno wat I'll do or whair I'll go; but I meen to be 'onest or die. I wish I war ded. I is very, very, very 'bliged for ole you's don for me an' littel Nel; tel Joe I is 'bliged to 'im to. P'r'aps I'll never, see 'e no more, p'r'aps I'll go to littel Nel soon. I 'ope I may, I's very lon-ly. I put with this the money I ow's. Good nite.—Benny."
More than one scalding tear fell upon the letter while he wrote, for the tears would come despite his efforts to keep them back. Life seemed to him such an utter desolation, and hope had almost died out of his heart.
When he had carefully folded and sealed the letters, he went out again on the steps in the shadow of the great Hall, and waited for the darkness. All around him the people hurried to and fro. But had he been in the heart of Africa he could not have felt more utterly forsaken and alone.
When at length the darkness crept over the busy town, he hurried away to Tempest Court, passing Jerry Starcher's, and pushing the letter under his door on the way. His
