The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1890-06-05
"THE ECHO "
"Come along, Billy, and don't cry
we've only tuppence more to get"

street. Come along and gi'me your
hand"
Billy placed his pinched, benumbed
fingers in his sisters palm, and the two
ragged little figures hurried across the
dull, dimly lighted street, while the cut
ting winds blew the fast-falling snow
right in their faces and made them shiver
in every limb.
Mary was just as cold as Billy, but she
had had longer experience of life and
its hardships, and she knew it was use
less to murmur thereat Beside, Granny
had told her not to come back that night
without shilling, and they had only
got tenpence.
Only tenpencel 1t doesn't seem much;
yet they had been out for nearly, three
hours, and they had sung about home
sweet home, oh, so many times, to get
that tenpence. Sometimes they sang
this, their only song, three or four times
in succession, without obtaining single
coin. People would stop for a moment
and stare at the two i'll clad children,
then they would move on, filled with
some sort of pity, perhaps, but not re-
membering of how much more benefit a
"copper" however small, would be than
mere empty-handed sympathy; or, if re-
membering, seeking to foIget the fact
when Billy-lifted up for the purpose in
Mary's arms-had rung door bell, the
door would be opened and shut again in
their faces with the words "Be off, at
oncen
So they had sung their song over and
over again to earn tenpence, and there
was still twOpenCe to be made. Their
poor little throats were dry and sore,
and their feet were cold and weary, for
nearly all the houses had been shut up
for the night about an hour ago and
more, and the children had to traverse
long stretches of streets in order to find
houses in which light betokened that the
occupants had not yet gone to bed.
No wonder that little Billy began to
cry at last; his sister felt inclined to cry
too, only she knew she must not give
way while there was twOpence waiting
to make up her shilling. Granny's beat
ings and curses were harder to bear than
the biting winds and the driving snow.
For herself she would not have minded
the blows and harsh words so very much
either, but there was Billy, he was so
small and so pinched that Mary could
not bear to see him beaten, and Granny
was always worse on cold night; her
affection for the gin bottle always in
creased in proportion to the badness of
the weather. Mary bravely gulped down
the sob which was rising in her throat,
and hastened towards the house with the
light.
She sat Billy down on the door step
out of the way of the drifting snow, and |
she stood up alone by the side of the
foot of the pavement and sang the famil- |
lar song. The soughing wind drowned |
her notes, and the white hurricane |
10, lint hn
struggled on to the very end.
'Now, Billy, get up and ring the bell" |
Billy did not hear; he had fallen fast |
asleep from sheer exhaustion.
"Billy," she shouted, giving him a |
shake. "Billy, here's the policeman
coming" as she heard the tramp, tramp, |
close at hand and caught sight of the
CLEAN of a lantern glinting through the
mist of snow.
'Tse so tired, Mary" feebly answered |
the child, trying to rise.
''Now, then, move on!" said the mer-
ciless policeman, turning his bulls eye |
on the children.
Mary raised her little brother in her
arms and, wrapping her threadbare |
shawl around him, obeyed in silence.
Slowly enough, on account of her bur
den, she made her way through two or
three streets until she came to bril-
liantly lighted gin shop, and in front of
it she stopped and once more began her
song, still clasping Billy in her arms.
Presently half dozen men lounged
out of the door and stared at her with
dazed, drunken looks; they walked off
with unsteady gait, one of them throw
ing her the metal cap of a bottle to
mock her with its click and glitter. In
side the lights disappeared one by one,
the doors were banged and barred, and
Mary knew there was no more chance OF
money that night; the gin shops were al
ways the last places to close.
'There's no place like home,n she
ended sadly" and little Billy half whis-
pered, half sang the words with her. She
pressed his curly head close to her
shoulder and wrapped her shawl about
him, he was so cold, and with sigh that
came from her very heart, she turned her
footsteps toward hOme-her home, what
a mockery it was!-a wretched garTet in
back street near mile away. When
she reached the house she could hardly
drag herself up the four flights of mar
row, creaking stairs, her little legs were
sc weary and her whole body so racked
with pain and shivering with cold. As
for Billy, he was fast asleep, so very last
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