Little Benjamin

"Then is little Benjamin their ruler."

"I think the kitty wants to come in," said Mother Golden. "I hear him crying somewhere. Won't you go and let him in, Adam?"

Adam laid down his book and went out; the whole family looked up cheerfully, expecting to see Aladdin, the great Maltese cat, enter with his stately port. There was a pause; then Adam came back with a white, scared face, and looked at his father without speaking.

"What is the matter, my son?" asked Father Golden.

"Is Kitty hurt?" asked Mother Golden, anxiously.

"Was it that dog of Jackson's?" cried Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph.

"The cat isn't there!" said Adam. "It's--it's a basket, father."

"A basket? What does the boy mean?"

"A long basket, with something white inside; and--it's crying!"

The boy had left the door open, and at this moment a sound came through it, a long, low, plaintive cry.

"My heart!" said Mother Golden; and she was out of the door in a flash.

"See there now!" said Father Golden, reprovingly. "Your mother's smarter than any of you to-day. Go and help her, some of you!"

The children tumbled headlong toward the door, but were met by Mother Golden returning, bearing in her strong arms a long basket, in which was indeed something white and fluffy that cried.

"A baby!" exclaimed Father Golden.

"A baby!" echoed Mary, Lemuel, Ruth, and Joseph.

"Well, I knew it was a baby," protested Adam; "but I didn't like to say so."

Mother Golden lifted the child out and held it in a certain way; the cries ceased, and the little creature nestled close against her and looked up in her face.

"My heart!" said Mother Golden again. "Come here, girls!"

The girls pressed forward eagerly; the boys hung back, and glanced at their father; these were women's matters.

"It's got hair!" cried Ruth, in rapture. "Mother! real hair, and it curls; see it curl!"

"Look at its little hands!" murmured Mary. "They're like pink shells, only soft. Oh! see it move them, Ruth!" She caught her sister's arm in a sudden movement of delight.

"Oh, mother, mayn't we keep it?" cried both girls at once.

Mother Golden was examining the baby's clothes.

"Cambric slip, fine enough, but not so terrible fine. Flannel blanket, machine-embroidered--stop! here's a note."

She opened a folded paper, and read a few words, written in a carefully rough hand.

"His mother is dead, his father a waif. Ask the woman with the kind eyes to take care of him, for Christ's sake."

"My heart!" said