“Father,” said Esther, the never before received species of letter trembling in her hand, “we must go at once to see Benjy.  He is very ill.”

“Has he written to say so?”

“No, this is a telegram.  I have read of such.  Oh! perhaps he is dead.  It is always so in books.  They break the news by saying the dead are still alive.”  Her tones died away in a sob.  The children clustered round her—­Rachel and Solomon fought for the telegram in their anxiety to read it.  Ikey and Sarah stood grave and interested.  The sick grandmother sat up in bed excited.

“He never showed me his ‘four corners,’” she moaned.  “Perhaps he did not wear the fringes at all.”

“Father, dost thou hear?” said Esther, for Moses Ansell was fingering the russet envelope with a dazed air.  “We must go to the Orphanage at once.”

“Read it!  What stands in the letter?” said Moses Ansell.

She took the telegram from the hands of Solomon.  “It stands, ’Come up at once.  Your son Benjamin very ill.’”

“Tu!  Tu!  Tu!” clucked Moses.  “The poor child.  But how can we go up?  Thou canst not walk there.  It will take me more than three hours.”

His praying-shawl slid from his shoulders in his agitation.

“Thou must not walk, either!” cried Esther excitedly.  “We must get to him at once!  Who knows if he will be alive when we come?  We must go by train from London Bridge the way Benjy came that Sunday.  Oh, my poor Benjy!”

“Give me back the paper, Esther,” interrupted Solomon, taking it from her limp hand.  “The boys have never seen a telegram.”

“But we cannot spare the money,” urged Moses helplessly.  “We have just enough money to get along with to-day.  Solomon, go on with thy prayers; thou seizest every excuse to interrupt them.  Rachel, go away from him.  Thou art also a disturbing Satan to him.  I do not wonder his teacher flogged him black and blue yesterday—­he is a stubborn and rebellious son who should be stoned, according to Deuteronomy.”

“We must do without dinner,” said Esther impulsively.

Sarah sat down on the floor and howled “Woe is me!  Woe is me!”

“I didden touch ’er,” cried Ikey in indignant bewilderment.

“’Tain’t Ikey!” sobbed Sarah.  “Little Tharah wants ’er dinner.”

“Thou hearest?” said Moses pitifully.  “How can we spare the money?”

“How much is it?” asked Esther.

“It will be a shilling each there and back,” replied Moses, who from his long periods of peregrination was a connoisseur in fares.  “How can we afford it when I lose a morning’s work into the bargain?”

“No, what talkest thou?” said Esther.  “Thou art looking a few months ahead—­thou deemest perhaps, I am already twelve.  It will be only sixpence for me.”

Moses did not disclaim the implied compliment to his rigid honesty but answered: 

“Where is my head?  Of course thou goest half-price.  But even so where is the eighteenpence to come from?”