"Where does he hang up his coat when he goes to his bed?"

What on earth was a poor, distracted loafer to say? I could not deal
with Jesus, for I saw that Teddy did not understand goodness. He knew
that I was kind, and he liked to kiss my hand slily, and rub his cheek
on my knee; but abstract goodness and gentle words like those of Jesus
did not appeal to him. I was satisfied to have a queer creature that
followed me like a dog, and I am afraid that if he had lived I should
have made him a kind of heathen; but the luck was against me. Teddy's
father came on a Sunday morning, and said, "If you don't mind, his
mother'd like to 'ave him along to dinner to-morrow. We got a bit o'
pork and a horrange spesshal for him." So Teddy went home when the ditch
was in worse order than usual. He had been kept amid good air, and he
was clean--I washed him myself--and I fancy that the stenches poisoned
him simply because he could not become acclimatised to the alley again.
Anyway, he was heavy and listless when he came back, and in two days I
had to send for his father and mother. I am not going into any pathetic
details, for that is not my line. Night after night I walked the floor
with the youngster, and when the doctor said I should catch diphtheria
if I kissed him, I said I didn't care a damn, for I was wild. Then my
boy went away.

One night I was walking about the park in mad fashion while a hoarse
gale roused a deep chorus among the trees. I could have sworn that my
lad called to me. Then I went back and dropped into The Chequers. The
Ramper said, "Wot cher, yer old bugaboo?" The Wanderer shouted, "Now
let the trumpet to the kettle speak; the kettle to the cannoneer
without. He comes! He comes!"

And I went home and stayed till dawn with the Wanderer. That is the way