tion:

"An unknown Mother. Died August 9th. 1903."

Teeny-bits remembered well the story of that tragic day as told him by
the man whom he had always fondly known as Dad,--old Dad Holbrook with
the white hair and the limp. On that long-ago day a train had crawled
slowly into the station at Hamilton. There was a hot box on one of the
cars, and while the train waited for the heated metal to cool, a woman
with a small child--a boy of about a year and a half--stepped down to
the track to find relief from the stifling air of the car. The Chicago
express had come hurtling down the track at fifty miles an hour. Warning
shouts had gone up, but the young woman had appeared oblivious of her
danger. Those who saw the tragedy were convinced that she was deaf. At
any rate every one agreed that she was unaware of the oncoming express
until too late. Then, sensing the danger or hearing at last the shriek
of the whistle behind her, she snatched up the child and tried to leap
to safety. The realization that she was too late must have come upon
her, for in the last fraction of a second she tossed the child to one
side. The express, grinding all its brakes in a vain endeavor to stop,
had instantly killed her. The baby escaped with a few scratches.

The matter of identifying the unfortunate mother had at first seemed not
too difficult, but a search of the bag that she had left in her seat in
the car revealed nothing that in any way offered a clue as to who she
was or whence she had come. Daniel Holbrook had attended to the burial
of the unknown mother and had taken the child home, thinking their
relatives would soon appear to claim him. But no one had ever come for
the boy and none of the notices that the Holbrooks had put in the
newspapers had brought a claimant. After a year the Holbrooks had
adopted the child and had put a stone over the unnamed grave in the
cemetery.

When Teeny-bits finished telling his story, Snubby Turner's eyes were
round with wonder. Instead of detracting from the prestige of
Teeny-bits, the story had the effect of enhancing it, and if the person
who put the paper on the bulletin board intended it to effect an injury,
his attempt defeated itself, for the true story of Teeny-bits rapidly
spread by word of mouth and, instead of bringing him into disrepute,
cast about him a certain air of mystery that caused the boys in other
dormitories to seek him out to make his acquaintance. Thus, through no
effort of hi