Something amazing had been revealed to her--something so
amazing that she could scarcely comprehend its full significance.
Bud--never for a minute did she doubt that it was Bud, for she
knew his handwriting too well to be mistaken--Bud was sending
for clothes for a baby boy!
"3 Dig in the mud suits, 3 yr--" it sounded, to the hungry
mother soul of her, exactly like her Lovin Child. She could see
so vividly just how he would look in them. And the size--she
certainly would buy than three-year size, if she were buying for
Lovin Child. And the little "Buddy tucker" suit--that, too,
sounded like Lovin Child. He must--Bud certainly must have him
up there with him! Then Lovin Child was not drowned at all, but
alive and needing dig-in-the-muds.
"Bud's got him! Oh, Bud has got him, I know he's got him!" she
whispered over and over to herself in an ecstasy of hope.
"My little Lovin Man! He's up there right now with his Daddy
Bud--"
A vague anger stirred faintly, flared, died almost, flared
again and burned steadily within her. Bud had her Lovin Child!
How did he come to have him, then, unless he stole him? Stole him
away, and let her suffer all this while, believing her baby was
dead in the river!
"You devil!" she muttered, gritting her teeth when that thought
formed clearly in her mind.
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