The Loom of Destiny
The worst of it all was that not a scrap of letter or paper or personal property could be found to show just who "Mrs. James Brown" really was. Even the name and initials had been cut out of the dead woman's underclothing—and it was noticed at the time that they were of the very finest silk!—and the wearer of the diamond studs was in a terrible way, not so much because the infant would have to be handed over to the tender mercies of the police and the city Foundling Hospital, but because of the fact that if such a thing were done the whole story would, of course, get into the papers.
So when the Irish elevator man, not altogether from selfish interests, said that he would take the baby, for a consideration, Teddie was joyfully handed over to him, accompanied by two nice crisp ten-dollar bills. This same Irish elevator man straightway carried Teddie to his little home on Thompson Street, where for seven months his childless wife lovingly over-fed him. Then it so fell out that she had to make room for a little boy of her own. Teddie
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