Gypsy Smith tells of pushing through in the Scotland streets and feeling a tug at his sleeves. At first he thought someone was trying to get ahead. The tug came more persistently and he saw a little girl in rags, holding something wrapped in dirty paper. “What is it, my dear?”“ I want you to have my candy. ”“Why?”“Oh sir, because we have a new daddy at home. He was never sober, but last Saturday, he was sober because he sat in your meeting, and now he is so wonderful at home.” Gypsy Smith took her and the c...
