The Loom of Destiny
that one day caused a certain sad-eyed woman in a carriage to stop at the curb where Dinney was selling his papers, and blushingly thrust a quarter into his black and dirty hand.
Dinney's heart turned on its electrics at that. Such things meant something to him, for he was always too proud to beg, though not to steal. His big eyes lighted up in a truly marvellous way, and he, carried for a moment off his guard, grinned his genuine gratefulness.
That made the sad-eyed woman in the carriage turn to her husband and say:
"Did you notice, George? He has really a bee-yew-tiful face!"
They had been watching him for weeks.
"Yes, I suppose so," answered the man, with feigned disinterestedness, "if he'd only wash it now and then."
"Do you know, George, as I pass him I often think—he he looks like poor little Albert."
The man called George had thought so, too, but did not say so. Instead, he looked up at the roofs of the buildings, for Albert
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