"Books!" he said. "We've got hundreds and hundreds, a whole library--Dickens, Mayne Reid, George Eliot, Captain Marryat, Thackeray--I've read them all." "Oh, Benjy!" said Esther, clasping her hands in admiration, both of the library and her brother. "I wish I were you." "Well, you could be me easily enough." "How?" said Esther, eagerly. "Why, we have a girls' department, too. You're an orphan as much as me. You get father to enter you as a candidate." "Oh, how could I, Benjy?" said Esther, her face falling. "What would become of Solomon and Ikey and little Sarah?" "They've got a father, haven't they? and a grandmother?" "Father can't do washing and cooking, you silly boy! And grandmother's too old." "Well, I call it a beastly shame. Why can't father earn a living and give out the washing? He never has a penny to bless himself with." "It isn't his fault, Benjy. He tries hard. I'm sure he often grieves that he's so poor that he can't afford the railway fare to visit you on visiting days. That time he did go he only got the money by selling a work-box I had for a prize. But he often speaks about you." "Well, I don't grumble at his not coming," said Benjamin. "I forgive him that because you know he's not very presentable, is he, Esther?" Esther was silent. "Oh, well, everybody knows he's poor. They don't expect father to be a gentleman." "Yes, but he might look decent. Does he still wear those two beastly little curls at the side of his head? Oh, I did hate it when I was at school here, and he used to come to see the master about something. Some of the boys had such respectable fathers, it was quite a pleasure to see them come in and overawe the teacher. Mother used to be as bad, coming in with a shawl over her head." "Yes, Benjy, but she used to bring us in bread and butter when there had been none in the house at breakfast-time. Don't you remember, Benjy?" "Oh, yes, I remember. We've been through some beastly bad times, haven't we, Esther? All I say is you wouldn't like father coming in before all the girls in your class, would you, now?" Esther blushed. "There is no occasion for him to come," she said evasively. "Well, I know what I shall do!" said Benjamin decisively; "I'm going to be a very rich man--" "Are you, Benjy?" inquired Esther. "Yes, of course. I'm going to write books--like Dickens and those fellows. Dickens made a pile of money, just by writing down plain every-day things going on around." "But you can't write!" Benjamin laughed a superior laugh, "Oh, can't I? What about _Our Own_, eh?" "What's that?" "That's our journal. I edit it. Didn't I tell you about it? Yes, I'm running a story through it, called 'The Soldier's Bride,' all about life in Afghanistan." "Oh, where could I get a number?" "You can't get a number. It ain't printed, stupid. It's all copied by hand, and we've only got a few copies. If you came down, you could see it." "Yes, but I can't come down," said Esther, with tears in her eyes.