Richard Connell

“ Thereafter young Kelly maintained a commendable sobriety. He was entirely sober the day Mr. Kurtz detected him in the act of diverting a case of canned peas to his own use.
“He isn't a bad boy; he's just weak,” Mrs. Kelly said over and over again, sitting there in Gilbert Benner's kitchen, rumpling up her apron with hands permanently red from hot suds.
“Of course he isn't bad,” Gilbert Benner agreed. “Now, run along and don't worry. I'll go down and see Mr. Kurtz and see if I can't get this thing straightened out. Perhaps I can get the lad a job down at the lumber-yard.” ”

“ Somehow there was always somebody along Cannon Street who seemed faced by a turkeyless Christmas, and so he, concealing his shyness under an elaborately offhand manner, gave the turkey away and managed to convey the impression that turkeys were a mere incident in his life. One year it was old Mrs. Lock who got the turkey, the next the eight fatherless Kellys, the next Mr. and Mrs. Wasser, since Max Wasser, that year, was out of work.
They had begun to call him “Old Gil” along Cannon Street. They always said it with affection. Gilbert Benner was a neighborly sort. ”

“ He was the sort of man who s immediately thought of for the office of treasurer (without pay) .
Professionally, Gilbert Benner was cashier down at McHarg's lumber-yard, and had been all his working life. McHarg trusted him rather more than McHarg trusted himself, and each Christmas Gilbert Benner's employer presented him with a turkey. On these occasions Gilbert Benner's throat always filled a little and his eyes watered, and he mumbled sentences in which expressions like “deeply appreciate your trust” were involved. But he never ate the turkey. ”