length
he gave it up altogether, and became a "baggage-smasher," by profession,
or, as he is styled in the title of this book, a luggage boy.

Thus commences a new page in his history.

CHAPTER XII.

BEN'S HOME IN PHILADELPHIA.

Though the story of "Ben, the Luggage Boy," professes to treat of life
in the city streets, I must devote a single chapter to a very different
place. I must carry the reader to Ben's home in Pennsylvania, and show
what effect his running away had upon the family circle.

There was a neat two-story house standing on the principal street in
Cedarville, with a pleasant lawn in front, through which, from the gate,
a gravelled walk ran to the front door. Mr. Brandon, as I have already
said, was a coal-dealer, and in very comfortable circumstances; so that
Ben had never known what it was to want anything which he really needed.
He was a man of great firmness, and at times severity, and more than
once Ben had felt aggrieved by his treatment of him. Mrs. Brandon was
quite different from her husband, being gentle and kind, and it was to
her that Ben always went for sympathy, in any trouble or difficulty,
whether at home or at school.

Mrs. Brandon was sitting at the window with her work in her hand; but it
had fallen listlessly in her lap, and on her face was a look of painful
preoccupation. Opposite her sat her daughter Mary, Ben's only sister,
already referred to.

"Don't worry so, mother," said Mary; "you will make yourself sick."

"I cannot help it, Mary," said Mrs. Brandon. "I can't help worrying
about Ben. He has been gone a week now, and Heaven knows what he has
suffered. He may be dead."

"No, mother," said Mary, who had more of her father's strength than her
mother's gentleness. "He is not dead, you may depend upon that."

"But he had no money, that I know of. How could he live?"

"Ben can take care of himself better than most boys of his age."

"But think of a boy of ten going out in the world by himself!"

"There are many boys of ten who have to do it, mother."

"What could the poor boy do?"

"He might suffer a little; but if he does, he will the sooner come
home."

"I wish he might," said Mrs. Brandon, with a sigh. "I think your father
does very wrong not to go after him."

"He wouldn't know where to go. Besides, he has advertised."

"I hope Ben will not see the advertisement. Poor boy! he would feel hurt
to think that we cared so little for him as to offer only