ell--what else did he say?"

"That he took the little duffer to New York and raised him."

"RAISED him?"

She fairly screamed the words, springing to her feet trembling from head
to foot.

"Till he was big enough to kick into the streets to shuffle for
himself."

"The scoundrel said he was dead."

Her voice was far away and sank into dreamy silence. She was living the
hideous, lonely years again with a heart starved for love.

Jim's voice broke the spell:

"Then you didn't desert him?" The man's eyes held hers steadily.

She stared at him blankly and spoke with rushing indignation:

"Desert him--my baby--my own flesh and blood? There's never been a
minute since I looked into his eyes that I wouldn't 'a' died fur him."

She paused and sobbed.

"He had such pretty eyes, stranger. They looked like your'n--only they
wuz puttier and bluer."

She lifted her faded dress, brushed the tears from her cheeks and went
on rapidly:

"When I found his drunken brute of a daddy was a liar and had another
wife, I wouldn't live with him. He tried to make me but I kicked him
out of the house--and he stole the boy to get even with me." Her voice
broke, she dropped her head and choked back the tears. "He did get even
with me, too--he did," she sobbed.

Jim watched her in silence until the paroxysm had spent itself.

"You think you'd know this boy now if you found him?"

She bent close, her breath coming in quick gasps.

"My God, mister, do you think I COULD find him?"

"He lives in New York; his name is Jim Anthony."

"Yes--yes?" she said in a dazed way. "He called hisself Walter
Anthony--he wuz a stranger from the North and my boy's name was Jim."
She paused and bent eagerly across the table. "New York's an awful big
place, ain't it?"

"Some town, old gal, take it from me."

"COULD I find him?"

"If you've got money enough. You said you'd know him. How?"

"I'd know him!" she answered eagerly. "The last quarrel we had was about
a mark on his neck. He wuz a spunky little one. You couldn't make him
cry. His devil of a daddy used to stick pins in him and laugh because
he wouldn't cry. The last dirty trick he tried was what ended it all. He
pushed a live cigar agin his little neck until I smelled it burnin' in
the next room. I knocked him down with a chair, drove him from the house
and told him I'd kill him if he ever put his foot inside the door agin.
He stole my boy the next night--but he'll carry that scar to hi