THE LITTLE RED CHIMNEY

[Illustration: THE CANDY MAN]

The Little Red Chimney

_Being the Love Story of a Candy Man_

BY MARY FINLEY LEONARD

Illustrations in Silhouette by KATHARINE GASSAWAY

New York--Duffield & Company--1914

Copyright, 1914, by DUFFIELD & COMPANY

 * * * * *

CONTENTS

_CHAPTER I_

In which the curtain rises on the Candy Wagon, and the leadingcharacters are thrown together in a perfectly logical manner by Fate. 

_CHAPTER II_

In which the Candy Man walks abroad in citizen's clothes, and ismistaken for a person of wealth and social importance. 

_CHAPTER III_

In which the Little Red Chimney appears on the horizon, but withouta clue to its importance. In which also the Candy Man has a glimpseof high life and is foolishly depressed by it. 

_CHAPTER IV_

In which the Candy Man again sees the Grey Suit, and Virginia continuesthe story of the Little Red Chimney. 

_CHAPTER V_

In which the double life of the heroine is explained, and AugustusMcAllister proves an alibi. 

_CHAPTER VI_

In which Margaret Elizabeth is discussed at the Breakfast Table; inwhich also, later on, she and Virginia and Uncle Bob talk before thefire, and in which finally Margaret Elizabeth seeks consolation byrelating to Uncle Bob her adventure in the park. 

_CHAPTER VII_

Shows how the Candy Wagon is visited in behalf of the Squirrel, and howpride suffers a fall; how Miss Bentley turns to Vedantic Philosophy todrown her annoyance, and discovers how hard it is to forget when youwish to. 

_CHAPTER VIII_

In which the Miser's past history is touched upon; which shows how hissolitude is again invaded, and how he makes a new friend. 

_CHAPTER IX_

Shows how Miss Bentley and the Reporter take refuge in a cave, and how, in the course of the conversation which follows, she hears somethingwhich disposes her to feel more kindly toward the Candy Man; shows alsohow Uncle Bob proves faithless to his trust and his niece finds herselflocked out in consequence. 

_CHAPTER X_

In which the Little Red Chimney keeps Festival, and the Candy Manreceives an unexpected invitation. 

_CHAPTER XI_

In which a radical change of atmosphere is at once noticed; which showshow Miss Bentley repents of a too coming-on disposition, and lends anear to the advantages of wealth. 

_CHAPTER XII_

Which shows Miss Bentley recovering from a fit of what Uncle Bob callsCantankerousness; in which a shipwrecked letter is brought to light, andDr. Prue is called again to visit the child of the Park Superintendent. 

_CHAPTER XIII_

In which the Candy Man relates his story, and the Miser comes uponVolume I of the shabby book with the funny name. 

_CHAPTER XIV_

Shows how Mrs. Gerrard Pennington, unhappy and distraught, beseechesUncle Bob to help her save Margaret Elizabeth; also how Mr. GerrardPennington comes to the rescue, and how in the end his wife submitsgracefully to the inevitable, which is not so bad after all. 

_CHAPTER XV_

In which the Fairy Godmother Society is again mentioned, among otherthings. 

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE CANDY MAN

MARGARET ELIZABETH

VIRGINIA

DR. PRUE

UNCLE BOB

THE MISER

COUSIN AUGUSTUS

MRS. GERRARD PENNINGTON

 * * * * *

 To George Madden Martin

 * * * * *

THE LITTLE RED CHIMNEY

CHAPTER ONE

_In which the curtain rises on the Candy Wagon, and the leadingcharacters are thrown together in a perfectly logical manner byFate_. 

The Candy Wagon stood in its accustomed place on the Y. M. C. A. Corner. The season was late October, and the leaves from the old sycamores, inleague with the east wind, after waging a merry war with the janitor allmorning, had swept, a triumphant host, across the broad sidewalk, to liein heaps of golden brown along the curb and beneath the wheels of theCandy Wagon. In the intervals of trade, never brisk before noon, theCandy Man had watched the game, taking sides with the leaves. 

Down the steps of the Y. M. C. A. Building sauntered the Reporter. Perceiving the Candy Wagon at the curb he paused, scrutinising itjauntily, through a monocle formed by a thumb and finger. 

The wagon, freshly emblazoned in legends of red, yellow and blue whichadvertised the character and merits of its wares, stood with itshorseless shafts turned back and upward, in something of a prayerfulattitude. The Reporter, advancing, lifted his arms in imitation, andrecited: "Confident that upon investigation you will find everything asrepresented, we remain Yours to command, in fresh warpaint. " He seatedhimself upon the adjacent carriage block and grinned widely at theCandy Man. 

In spite of a former determination to confine his intercourse with theReporter to strictly business lines, the Candy Man could not help aresponsive grin. 

The representative of the press demanded chewing gum, and receiving it, proceeded to remove its threefold wrappings and allow them to slipthrough his fingers to the street. "Women, " he said, with seemingirrelevance and in a tone of defiance, "used to be at the bottom ofeverything; now they're on top. "

The Candy Man was quick at putting two and two together. "I infer youare not in sympathy with the efforts of the Woman's Club and the OutdoorLeague to promote order and cleanliness in our home city, " he observed, his eye on the débris so carelessly deposited upon the publicthoroughfare. 

"Right you are. Your inference is absolutely correct. The foundations ofthis American Commonwealth are threatened, and the _Evening Record_don't stand for it. Life's made a burden, liberty curtailed, happinesspursued at the point of the dust-pan. Here is the Democratic party ofthe State pledged to School Suffrage. The Equal Rights Association is tomeet here next month, and--the mischief is, the pretty ones are takingit up! The first thing you know the Girl of All Others will be saying, 'Embrace me, embrace my cause. ' Why, my Cousin Augustus met a regularpeach of a girl at the country club, --visiting at the GerrardPenningtons', don't you know, and almost the first question she askedhim was did he believe in equal rights?" The Reporter paused for breath, pushing his hat back to the farthest limit and regarding the Candy Mancuriously. "It is funny, " he added, "how much you look like my CousinAugustus. I wonder now if he could have been twins, and one stolen bythe gypsies? You don't chance to have been stolen in infancy?"

This innocent question annoyed the Candy Man, although he ignored it, murmuring something to the effect that the Reporter's talents pointed tothe stump. It might have been a guilty conscience or merely impatienceat such flagrant nonsense, for surely he could not reasonably objectto resembling Cousin Augustus. The Candy Man was a well-enough lookingyoung fellow in his white jacket and cap, but nothing to brag of, thathe need be haughty about a likeness to one so far above him in thesocial scale, whom in fact he had never seen. 

The Reporter lingered in thoughtful silence while some westboundtransfers purchased refreshment, then as a trio of theological studentspaused at the Candy Wagon, he restored his hat to its normal positionand strolled away. On the Y. M. C. A. Corner business had waked up. 

For some time the Candy Wagon continued to reap a harvest from the rushof High School boys and younger children. Morning became afternoon, the clouds which the east wind had been industriously beating upgathered in force, and a fine rain began to fall. The throng on thestreet perceptibly lessened; the Candy Man had leisure once more tolook about him. 

A penetrating mist was veiling everything; the stone church, theseminary buildings, the tall apartment houses, the few old residencesnot yet crowded out, the drug store, the confectionery--all were softlyblurred. The asphalt became a grey lake in which all the colour andmovement of the busy street was reflected, and upon whose bosom theCandy Wagon seemed afloat. As the Candy Man watched, gleams of lightpresently began to pierce the mist, from a hundred windows, from passingstreet cars and cabs, from darting machines now transformed intostrange, double-eyed demons. It was a scene of enchantment, and withpleasure he felt himself part of it, as in his turn he lit up his wagon. 

The traffic officer, whose shrill whistle sounded continually above theclang of the trolley cars and the hoarse screams of impatient machines, probably viewed the situation differently. Given slippery streets, intersecting car lines, an increasing throng of vehicles andpedestrians, with a fog growing denser each moment, and the utmostvigilance is often helpless to avert an accident. So it was now. 

The Candy Man did not actually see the occurrence, but later itdeveloped that an automobile, in attempting to turn the corner, skidded, grazing the front of a car which had stopped to discharge somepassengers, then crashing into a telegraph pole on the opposite side ofthe street. What he did see was the frightened rush of the crowd to thesidewalk, and in the rush, a girl, just stepping from the car, caughtand carried forward and jostled in such a manner that she lost herfooting and fell almost beneath the wheels of the Candy Wagon, anddangerously near the hoofs of a huge draught horse, brought by itsdriver to a halt in the nick of time. 

The Candy Man was out and at her side in an instant, assisting herto rise. The panic swept past them, leaving only a long-legged childin a red tam, and a sad-faced elderly man in its wake. The Candy Manhad seen all three before. The wearer of the red tam was one of theapartment-house children, the sad man was popularly known to theneighbourhood as the Miser, and the girl, to whose assistance he hadsprung--well, he had seen her on two previous occasions. 

As she stood in some bewilderment looking ruefully at the mud on hergloves and skirt, the merest glance showed her to be the sort of girlany one might have been glad to help. 

"Thank you, I am not hurt--only rather shaken, " she said in answer tothe Candy Man. 

"Here's your bag, " announced the long-legged child, fishing it out ofthe soggy mass of leaves beneath the wagon. "And you need not worryabout your skirt. Take it to Bauer's just round the corner; they'llclean it, " she added. 

The owner of the bag received it and the accompanying advice with anadorable smile in which there was merriment as well as appreciation. The Miser plucked the Candy Man by the sleeve and asked if the younglady did not wish a cab. 

She answered for herself. "Thank you, no; I am quite all right--onlymuddy. But was it a bad accident? What happened?"

The Miser crossed the street where the crowd had gathered, toinvestigate, and returning reported the chauffeur probably done for. While he was gone the conductor of the street car appeared in quest ofthe names and addresses of everybody within a radius of ten blocks. Inthis way the Candy Man learned that her name was Bentley. She gave itreluctantly, as persons do on such occasions, and he failed to catchher street and number. 

"I'm very sorry! I suppose there is nothing one can do?" she exclaimed, apropos of the chauffeur, and the next the Candy Man knew she waswalking away in the mist hand in hand with the long-legged child. 

"An unusually charming face, " the Miser remarked, raising his umbrella. 

To the sober mind "unusually charming" would seem a not unworthycompliment, but the Candy Man, as he resumed his place in the wagon, smiled scornfully at what he was pleased to consider its grotesqueinadequacy. If he had anything better to offer, the Miser did not stayto hear it, but with a courteous "good evening" disappeared in histurn in the mist. An ambulance carried away the injured man, the crowddispersed; the remains of the machine were towed away to a near-bygarage. Night fell; the throng grew less, the rain gathered courage andbecame a downpour. There would be little doing in the way of businessto-night. 

As he made ready for early closing the Candy Man fell to thinking of thegirl whose name was Bentley. Not that the name interested him save as ameans of further identification. It was a phrase used by the Reporterthis morning that occurred to him now as peculiarly applicable to her. The Girl of All Others! He rolled it as a sweet morsel under his tongue, undisturbed by the reflection that such descriptive titles are atpresent overworked--in dreams one has no need to be original. 

Neither did it strike him as incongruous that he should have seen herfirst in the grocery kept by Mr. Simms, who catered to the needs of suchas got their own breakfasts, and whose boiled ham was becoming famous, because it was really done. He went back to the experience, dwellingwith pleasure upon each detail of it, even his annoyance at the grocer'sdaughter, who exchanged crochet patterns with the tailor's wife, afterthe manner of a French exercise, and ignored him. It was early andbusiness had not yet begun on the Y. M. C. A. Corner; still he could notwait forever. The grocer himself, who was attending to the wants of alean and hungry-looking student, had just handed his rolls and smokedsausage across the counter, with a cheery "Breakfast is ready, ring thebell, " when the door opened and the Girl of All Others came in. 

She was tallish, but not very tall, and somewhat slight. She wore a greysuit--the same which had suffered this afternoon from contact with thestreet, and a soft felt hat of the same colour jammed down anyhow on herbright hair and pinned with a pinkish quill--or so it looked. The facebeneath the bright hair was---- But at this point in his recollectionsthe Candy Man all but lost himself in a maze of adjectives and adverbs. We know, at least, how the long-legged child ran to help, and finallywent off hand in hand with her, and what the Miser said of her, andafter all the best the Candy Man could do was to go back to theReporter's phrase. 

He had withdrawn a little behind a stack of breakfast foods where hecould watch her, wondering that the clerks did not drop their severalcustomers without ceremony and fly to do her bidding. She stood besidethe counter and made overtures to a large Maltese cat who reposed therein solemn majesty. Beside the Maltese rose a pyramid of canned goods, and a placard announced, "Of interest to light house keepers. " Upon thisher eyes rested in evident surprise. "I didn't know there were anylighthouses in this part of the country, " she said half aloud. 

[Illustration: MARGARET ELIZABETH]

The Maltese laid a protesting paw upon her arm. It was not, however, theabsurdity of her remark, but the cessation of her caresses he protestedagainst. At the same moment her eyes met those of the Candy Man, acrossthe stack of breakfast foods. His were laughing, and hers were instantlywithdrawn. He saw her colour mounting as she exclaimed, addressing thecat, "How perfectly idiotic!"

He longed to assure her it was a perfectly natural mistake, the placardbeing but an amateurish affair; but he lacked the courage. 

And then the grocer, having disposed of another customer, advanced toserve her, and the grocer's daughter, it seemed, was also at leisure;and though he would have preferred to watch the Girl of All Others doingthe family marketing in a most competent manner, a thoughtful fingerupon her lip, the Candy Man was forced to attend to his own business. In selecting a basket of grapes and ordering them sent to St. Mary'sHospital, he presently lost sight of her. 

Once since then she had passed his corner on her way up the street. That was all until to-night. It seemed probable that she lived in theneighbourhood. Perhaps the Reporter would know. 

Just here the recollection that he was a Candy Man brought him up short. His bright dreams began to fade. The Girl of All Others should of coursebe able to recognise true worth, even in a Candy Wagon, but such is thepower of convention he was forced to own to himself it was more thanpossible she might not. Or if she did, her friends----

But these disheartening reflections were curtailed by the suddenappearance of a stout, grey horse under the conduct of a small boy. Theshafts were lowered, the grey horse placed between them, and, after afew more preliminaries, the Candy Wagon, Candy Man and all, were removedfrom the scene of action, leaving the Y. M. C. A. Corner to the rain andthe fog, the gleaming lights, and the ceaseless clang of the trolleycars. 

CHAPTER TWO

_In which the Candy Man walks abroad in citizen's clothes, and ismistaken for a person of wealth and social importance. _

The Candy Man strolled along a park path. The October day was crisp, thesky the bluest blue, the sunny landscape glowing with autumn's fairestcolours. It was a Sunday morning not many days after the events of thefirst chapter, and back in the city the church bells were ringing foreleven o'clock service. 

In citizen's clothes, and well-fitting ones at that, the Candy Man wasa presentable young fellow. If his face seemed at first glance a triflestern, this sternness was offset by the light in his eyes; a steady, purposeful glow, through which played at the smallest excuse a humoroustwinkle. 

After the ceaseless stir of the Y. M. C. A. Corner, the stillness of thepark was most grateful. At this hour on Sunday, if he avoided the golfgrounds, it was to all intents his own. His objective point was a rusticarbour hung with rose vines and clematis, where was to be had a view ofthe river as it made an abrupt turn around the opposite hills. Here hemight read, or gaze and dream, as it pleased him, reasonably secure frominterruption once he had possession. 

The Candy Man breathed deeply, and smiled to himself. It was a day toinspire confident dreams, for the joy of fulfilment was over the land. Was it the sudden fear that some other dreamer might be before him, ora subconscious prevision of what actually awaited him, that caused himto quicken his steps as he neared the arbour? However it may have been, as he took at a bound the three steps which led up to it, he came withstartling suddenness upon Miss Bentley entering from the other side, her arms full of flowers. Their eyes met in a flash of recognitionwhich there was no time to control. She bowed, not ungraciously, yetdistantly, and with a faint puzzled frown on her brow, and he, as helifted his hat, spoke her name, which, as he was not supposed to knowit, he had no business to do; then they both laughed at the way in whichthey had bounced in at the same moment from opposite directions. 

With some remark about the delightful day, the Candy Man, as a gentlemanshould, tried to pretend he was merely passing through, and though itwas but a feeble performance, Miss Bentley should have accepted itwithout protest, then all would have been well. Instead, she said, stillwith that puzzled half frown, "Don't go, I am only waiting here a momentfor my cousin, who has stopped at the superintendent's cottage. " Shemotioned over her shoulder to a vine-covered dwelling just visiblethrough the trees. 

"Please do not put it in that way, " he protested. "As if your being heredid not add tremendously to my desire to remain. I am conscious ofrushing in most unceremoniously upon you, and----"

Hesitating there, hat in hand, his manners were disarmingly frank. MissBentley laughed again as she deposited her flowers, a mass of pink andwhite cosmos, upon a bench, and sat down beside them. She seemed willingto have him put it as he liked. She wore the same grey suit and softfelt hat, jammed down any way on her bright hair and pinned with apinkish quill, and was somehow, more emphatically than before, the Girlof All Others. 

How could a Candy Man be expected to know what he was about? What wonderthat his next remark should be a hope that she had suffered no illeffects from the accident?

"None at all, thank you, " Miss Bentley replied, and the puzzledexpression faded. It was as if she inwardly exclaimed, "Now I know!""Aunt Eleanor, " she added, "was needlessly alarmed. I seem rather givento accidents of late. " Thus saying she began to arrange her flowers. 

The Candy Man dropped down on the step where the view--of MissBentley--was most charming, as she softly laid one bloom upon another incaressing fashion, her curling lashes now almost touching her cheek, nowlifted as she looked away to the river, or bent her gaze upon theoccupant of the step. 

"Do you often come here?" she asked, adding when he replied that thiswas the third time, that she thought he had rather an air ofproprietorship. 

He laughed at this, and explained how he had set out to pay a visit toa sick boy at St. Mary's Hospital, but had allowed the glorious day totempt him to the park. 

Below them on the terraced hillside a guard sat reading his paper;across the meadow a few golfers were to be seen against the horizon. All about them the birds and squirrels were busily minding their ownaffairs; above them smiled the blue, blue sky, and the cousin, whoeverhe or she might be, considerately lingered. 

Like the shining river their talk flowed on. Beginning like it as ashallow stream, it broadened and deepened on its way, till presentlyfairy godmothers became its theme. 

Miss Bentley was never able to recall what led up to it. The Candy Manonly remembered her face, as, holding a crimson bloom against her cheek, she smiled down upon him thoughtfully, and asked him to guess what shemeant to do when some one left her a fortune. "I have a strangepresentiment that some one is going to, " she said. 

"How delightful!" he exclaimed, but did not hazard a guess, and shecontinued without giving him a chance: "I shall establish a FairyGodmother Fund, the purpose of which shall be the distribution of goodtimes; of pleasures large and small, among people who have few or none. "

"It sounds, " was the Candy Man's comment, "like the minutes of the firstmeeting. Please explain further. How will you select your beneficiaries?"

"I don't like your word, " she objected. "Beneficiaries and fairygodmothers somehow do not go together. Still, I see what you mean, andwhile I have not as yet worked out the plan, I'm confident it could bemanaged. Suppose we know a poor teacher, for instance, who has nothingleft over from her meagre salary after the necessary things are providedfor, and who is, we'll say, hungry for grand opera. We would encloseopera tickets with a note asking her to go and have a good time, signed, 'Your Fairy Godmother, ' and with a postscript something like this, 'Ifyou cannot use them, hand them on to another of my godchildren. ' Don'tyou think she would accept them?"

Under the spell of those lovely, serious eyes, the Candy Man ratherthought she would. 

"Of course, " Miss Bentley went on, "it must be a secret society, nevermentioned in the papers, unknown to those you call its beneficiaries. In this way there will be no occasion or demand for gratitude. Noobligations will be imposed upon the recipients--that word is as bad asyours--let's call them godchildren--and the fairy godmother will haveher fun in giving the good times, without bothering over whether theyare properly grateful. "

"You seem to have a grievance against gratitude, " said the Candy Manlaughing. 

"I have, " she owned. 

"There are people who contend that there is little or none of it in theworld, " he added. 

"And I am not sure it was meant there should be--much of it, I mean. Itis an emotion--would you call it an emotion?"

"You might, " said the Candy Man. 

"Well, an emotion that turns to dust and ashes when you try toexperience it, or demand it of others, " concluded Miss Bentley withemphasis. "And you needn't laugh, " she added. 

The Candy Man disclaimed any thought of such a thing. He was profoundlyserious. "It is really a great idea, " he said. "A human agency whosebenefits could be received as we receive those of Nature orProvidence--as impersonally. "

She nodded appreciatively. "You understand. " And they were both awareof a sense of comradeship scarcely justified by the length of theiracquaintance. 

"May I ask your ideas as to the amount of this fund?" he said. 

She considered a moment. "Well, say a hundred thousand, " she suggested. 

"You are expecting a large bequest, then. "

"An income of five thousand would not be too much, " insisted MissBentley. "We should wish to do bigger things than opera tickets, youknow. "

"There are persons who perhaps need a fairy godmother, whom moneycannot help, " the Candy Man continued thoughtfully. "There's an oldman--not so old either--a sad grey man, whom the children on our blockcall the Miser. I am not an adept in reading faces, but I am sure thereis nothing mean in his. It is only sad. I get interested in people, "he added. 

"So do I, " cried his companion. "And of course, you are right. The FairyGodmother Society would have to have more than one department. Naturallyopera tickets would not do your man any good--unless we could get him tosend them. "

They laughed over this clever idea, and the Candy Man went on to saythat there were lonely people in the world, who, through no fault oftheir own, were so circumstanced as to be cut off from those commonhuman relationships which have much to do with the flavour of life. 

"I don't quite understand, " Miss Bentley began. But these young personswere not to be left to settle the affairs of the universe in onemorning. A handkerchief waved in the distance by a stoutish lady, interrupted. "There's Cousin Prue, " Miss Bentley cried, springing toher feet. 

Hastily dividing her flowers into two bunches, she thrust one upon theCandy Man. "For your sick boy. You won't mind, as it isn't far. I haveso enjoyed talking to you, Mr. McAllister. I shall hope to see you soonagain. Aunt Eleanor often speaks of you. "

This sudden descent to the conventional greatly embarrassed the CandyMan, but he had no time for a word. Miss Bentley was off like a flash, across the grass, before he could collect his scattered wits. He lookedafter her, till, in company with the stout lady, she disappeared fromview. Then with a whimsical expression on his countenance, he took aleather case from his breast pocket, and opening it glanced at one ofthe cards within. It was as if he doubted his own identity and wishedto be reassured. 

The name engraved on the card was not McAllister, but Robert DeaneReynolds. 

CHAPTER THREE

_In which the Little Red Chimney appears on the horizon, but withouta clue to its importance. In which also the Candy Man has a glimpse ofhigh life and is foolishly depressed by it. _

Starting from the Y. M. C. A. Corner, walking up the avenue a block, thenturning south, you came in a few steps to a modest grey house with agrass plat in front of it, a freshly reddened brick walk, and flowerboxes in its windows. It was modest, not merely in the sense of beingunpretentious, but also in that of a restrained propriety. You felt itto be a dwelling of character, wherein what should be done to-day, wasnever put off till to-morrow; where there was a place for everything andeverything in it. Yet mingling with this propriety was an all-pervadingcheer that appealed strongly to the homeless passerby. 

The grey house presented a gable end to the street, and stretched awing comfortably on either side. In one of these was a glass door, with"Office Hours 10-1, " which caused you to glance again at the sign on theiron gate: "Dr. Prudence Vandegrift. "

The other ell, which was of one story, had a double window, beforewhich a rose bush grew, and when the blinds were up you had sometimes aglimpse of an opposite window, indicating that it was but one room deep. From its roof rose a small chimney that stood out from all the otherchimneys, because, while they were grey like the house and its slateroof, it was red. 

Strolling by in a leisure hour the Candy Man had remarked it andwondered why, and found himself continuing to wonder. Somehow thatlittle red chimney took hold on his imagination. It was a magicalchimney, poetic, alluring, at once a cheering and a depressing littlechimney, for it stirred him to delicious dreams, which, when they faded, left him forlorn. 

It was to Virginia he owed enlightenment. Virginia was the long-leggedchild who had fished Miss Bentley's bag from beneath the Candy Wagon, the indomitable leader of the Apartment House Pigeons, as the Candy Manhad named them. 

The Apartment House did not exclude children, neither did it encouragethem, and when their individual quarters became too contracted tocontain their exuberance, they perforce sought the street. Like pigeonsthey would descend in a flock, here, there, everywhere; perching in ablissful row before the soda fountain in the drug store; or if the stateof the public purse did not warrant this, the curbstone and the waresof the Candy Wagon were cheerfully substituted. By virtue no doubt ofher long legs and masterful spirit, Virginia ruled the flock. Under herguidance they made existence a weariness to the several janitors onthe block. 

As in defiance of law and order they circled one day on their rollerskates, down the avenue and up the broad alley behind the Y. M. C. A. , round and round, Virginia issued her orders: "You all go on, I want totalk to the Candy Man. "

Being without as yet any theories, consistently democratic, she regardedhim as a friend and brother. A state of society in which the position ofCandy Man was next the throne, would have seemed perfectly logical toVirginia. 

[Illustration: VIRGINIA]

"You don't look much like Tim, " she volunteered, dangling her legs fromthe carriage block. Her hair was dark and severely bobbed; her miniaturenose was covered with freckles, and she squinted a little. 

"No?" responded the Candy Man. 

"Tim was Irish, " she continued. 

During business hours conversation of necessity took on a disjointedcharacter. Unless you had great power of concentration you forgot in theintervals what you had been talking about. When a group of High Schoolboys had been served and had gone their hilarious way Virginia beganagain. "You know the house with the Little Red Chimney?" she asked. 

The Candy Man did. 

"Well, a nice old man named Uncle Bob lives there, and I asked him whythat chimney was red, and he said because it was new. A branch of a treefell on the old one. The tree where the squirrel house is, you know. "

The Candy Man remembered the tree. 

"He said the doctor was going to have it painted, but he kind of likedit red, and so did her ladyship. "

"And who might her ladyship be?" the Candy Man inquired. 

"That's what I asked him, and he said, 'You come over and see, ' andthen he said--now listen to this, for it's just like a story. " Virginialifted an admonishing finger. "He said, whenever I saw smoke coming outof that Little Red Chimney, I might know her ladyship had come to town. You'd better believe I'm going to watch. And what do you think! I cansee it from our dining-room window!" she concluded. 

"Most interesting, " said the Candy Man politely, without the least ideahow interesting it really was. 

Virginia's gaze suddenly fastened on a small book lying on the seat ofthe Candy Wagon, and she had seized it before its owner could protest. "What a funny name, " she said. "'E p i c t e t u s. ' What does thatspell? And what made you cut a hole in this page? It looks like awindow. "

The page was a fly leaf, from which a name, possibly that of a formerowner, had been removed. Below it the Candy Man's own name was nowwritten. 

"It was so when I got it, " he answered, holding out his hand for it. Hehad no mind to have his book in any other keeping, for somewhere withinits leaves lay a crimson flower. 

Before she returned it Virginia examined the back. "Vol. I, what doesthat mean?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer she tossed itback to him, and ran to join the other pigeons. 

From this time Virginia began to be almost as constant a visitor asthe Reporter. She had a way of bursting into conversation without anypreface whatever, speaking entirely from the fullness of her heart atthe moment. 

"I'd give anything in the world to be pretty, " she remarked one day, resting her school bag on the carriage block and sighing deeply. 

"But now honestly, " said the Candy Man, regarding her gravely, "it seemsto me you are a very nice-looking little girl, and who knows but you mayturn out a great beauty some day? That is the way it happens in storybooks. "

Virginia returned his gaze steadily. "Do you really think there is anychance? You are not laughing?"

He assured her he was intensely serious. 

"Well, you are the first person who ever told me that. Uncle Harry said, 'Is it possible, Cornelia, that this is your child?' Cornelia is mymother, and she is a beauty. My brother is awfully good looking, too. Everybody thinks he ought to have been the girl. I'll tell you who Iwant to look like when I grow up. Don't you know that young lady whofell in the mud?"

Oh, yes, the Candy Man knew, and applauded Virginia's ambition. He wouldhave been pleased to enlarge on the subject, even to the extent ofneglecting business, but just as she began to be interesting Virginiaremembered an errand to the drug store, and ran away. 

That Sunday morning meeting with Miss Bentley had been reviewed by theCandy Man from every possible standpoint, and always, in conclusion, with the same questions. Could he have done otherwise? What would shethink when she discovered her mistake? Who was his unknown double?

The opportunity offering, he made some guarded inquiries of theReporter. 

"Bentley?" repeated that gentleman, as he sharpened a bright yellowpencil. "Seem to have heard the name somewhere recently. "

It was a matter of no particular importance to the Candy Man. He hadchanced to hear the name given to the conductor by the young lady whowas thrown down the night of the accident, and wondered----

The Reporter, who wasn't listening, here exclaimed: "I have it! It wasthis A. M. Maimie McHugh was interviewing Mrs. Gerrard Pennington overthe office 'phone in regard to a luncheon she is giving this week inhonour of her niece. Said niece's name me-thinks was Bentley. You willsee it all in the social notes later. Covers for twelve, decorations inpink, La France roses, place cards from somewhere. " He paused to laugh. "Maimie was doing it up brown, but she lacks tact. What does she do butask for Miss Bentley's picture for the Saturday edition! I tried to stopher, but it was too late. You should have heard the 'phone buzz. 'Myniece's picture in the _Evening Record_!' 'I don't care, mean oldthing, ' says Maimie, when she hung up. 'Nicer people than she is do it, and are glad to. 'That's all right, my honey, ' I told her, 'but thereare nice people and nice people, and it's up to you to know the varietyyou are dealing with, unless you like to be snubbed. ' Still, " theReporter added reflectively, "Mrs. Gerrard Pennington and little McHughcan't afford to quarrel. After the luncheon Mrs. G. P. Will probably sendMaimie a pair of long white gloves, and when their pristine freshnesshas departed, Maimie will wear them to the office a time or two. "

The Candy Man wished to know who Mrs. Gerrard Pennington was, anyway. 

"She, my ignorant friend, is a four-ply Colonial Dame, so to speak. Distinguished grandfathers to burn, and the dough to support them, unlike another friend of mine who possessed every qualification neededto become a C. D. Except on the clothes line. "

"The joke, " observed the Candy Man, "is old, but worth repeating. But didI understand you to say _another_ friend? And am I to infer----?"

"You are far too keen for a Candy Man, " said the Reporter, laughing. "Mrs. G. P. Is friendly with the wealthy branch of our family. Sheregards my Cousin Augustus as a son. Now I think of it, your MissBentley cannot be her niece. She could scarcely fall out of a streetcar. A victoria or a limousine would be necessary in her case. "

The Candy Man did not see his way clear to disclaim proprietorship inMiss Bentley, so let it pass. Certainly, on other grounds his MissBentley, to call her so, could not be Mrs. Gerrard Pennington's niece. Not that she lacked the charm to grace any position however high, buther simplicity and friendliness, the fact that she walked in the countrywith a stoutish relative who was intimate with the family of the parksuperintendent, the marketing he had witnessed, all went to prove hispoint. 

Yet on the occasion of a fashionable noon wedding at the stone churchnear the Y. M. C. A. Corner, all this impressive evidence was brought tonaught. In the crush of machines and carriages the Candy Wagon was allbut engulfed in high life. When the crowd surged out after the bridalparty, the congestion for a few minutes baffled the efforts of the corpsof police. 

The Candy Man, looking on with much amusement at the well-dressedthrong, presently received a thrill at the sound of a clear young voiceexclaiming, "Here is the car, Aunt Eleanor--over here. "

The haughtiest of limousines had taken up its station just beyond theCandy Wagon, and toward this the owner of the voice was piloting amajestic and breathless personage. If the Candy Man could have doubtedhis ears, he could not doubt his eyes. Here was the grace, the sparkle, the everything that made her his Miss Bentley, the Girl of AllOthers--except the grey suit. Now she wore velvet, and wonderful whiteplumes framed her face and touched her bright hair. No, there was nomistaking her. Reviewing the evidence he found it baffling. That absurdexclamation about lighthouses alone might be taken as indicating anunfamiliarity with the humbler walks of life. 

The Reporter was at this time in daily attendance upon a convention inprogress in a neighbouring hall, and he rarely failed to stop at thecarriage block and pass the time of day on his way to and fro. 

"Ah ha!" he exclaimed, on one of these occasions, after perusing insilence the first edition of the _Evening Record_; "I see my CousinAugustus, on his return from New York, is to give a dinner dance inhonour of Mrs. Gerrard Pennington's niece. "

"I appreciate your innocent pride in Cousin Augustus, but may I inquireif by chance he possesses another name?" The Candy Man spoke withuncalled-for asperity. 

"Sure, " responded the Reporter, with a quizzical glance at hisquestioner; "several of 'em. Augustus Vincent McAllister is what hecalls himself every day. "

CHAPTER FOUR

_In which the Candy Man again sees the Grey Suit, and Virginiacontinues the story of the Little Red Chimney. _

It was Saturday afternoon, possibly the very next Saturday, or at mostthe Saturday after that, and the Candy Wagon was making money. The dayof the week was unmistakable, for the working classes were getting homeearly; fathers of families with something extra for Sunday in paper bagsunder their arms. And the hat boxes! They passed the Candy Man's cornerby the hundreds. Every feminine person in the big apartment houses mustbe intending to wear a new hat to-morrow. 

There was something special going on at the Country Club--the Candy Manhad taken to reading the social column--and the people of leisure andsemi-leisure were to be well represented there, to judge by the machinesspeeding up the avenue; among them quite probably Miss Bentley and Mr. Augustus McAllister. 

This not altogether pleasing reflection had scarcely taken shape in hismind, when, in the act of handing change to a customer, he beheld MissBentley coming toward him; without a doubt his Miss Bentley this time, for she wore the grey suit and the felt hat, jammed down any way on herbright hair and pinned with the pinkish quill. She was not alone. Byher side walked a rather shabby, elderly man, with a rosy face, whosepockets bulged with newspapers, and who carried a large parcel. She waslooking at him and he was looking at her, and they were both laughing. Comradeship of the most delightful kind was indicated. 

Without a glance in the direction of the Candy Wagon they passed. Well, at any rate she wasn't at the Country Club. But how queer!

Earlier in the afternoon Virginia had gone by in dancing-school array, accompanied by an absurdly youthful mother. "I've got something to tellyou, " she called, and the Candy Man could see her being reproved forthis unseemly familiarity. 

His curiosity was but mildly stirred; indeed, having other things tothink of, he had quite forgotten the incident, when on Monday shepresented herself swinging her school bag. 

"Say, " she began, "I have found out about her Ladyship and the LittleRed Chimney. "

"Oh, have you?" he answered vaguely. 

Virginia, resting her bag on the carriage block, looked disappointed. "I have been crazy to tell you, and now you don't care a bit. "

"Indeed I do, " the Candy Man protested. "I'm a trifle absent-minded, that's all. "

Thus reassured she began: "Don't you know I told you I could seethat chimney from our dining-room, and that I was going to watch it?Well, the other day at lunch I happened to look toward the window, andI jumped right out of my chair and clapped my hands and said, 'It'ssmoking, it's smoking!' There was company, and mother said, 'Goodgracious, Virginia! what's smoking? You do make me so nervous!' ThenI was sorry I'd said anything, because she wouldn't understand, youknow. Well, after lunch I took one of Ted's balls, and went over toUncle Bob's, and I got a little darkey boy to throw it in the yard, andthen I went in to look for it. You see if Uncle Bob wasn't there andanybody asked me what I was doing, I could say I was looking for mybrother's ball. "

"I fear you are a deep one, " remarked the Candy Man. 

"No, I'm not, but I'm rather good at thinking of things, " Virginia ownedcomplacently. "And then, " she continued, "I poked around the rose bush, and peeped in at the window, and sure enough she was there, brushing thehearth. She saw me and came to the window, and when I ran away, 'causeI thought maybe she was mad, she rapped, and then opened the window andcalled: 'Come in, little girl, and talk to me. ' And now who do you thinkshe turned out to be?"

A suspicion had been deepening in the Candy Man's breast for the lastfew moments. His heart actually thumped. "Not--you don't mean----?"

Virginia nodded violently. "Yes, the lady who fell and got muddy. Andshe's perfectly lovely, and I'm going there again. She asked me to. "

Why, oh, why should such luck fall to the lot of a long-legged, freckle-nosed little girl, and not to him, the Candy Man wondered. He burned to ask innumerable questions, but compromised on one. DidVirginia know whether or not she had come to stay?

"Why, I guess so. She didn't have her hat on, and she was cleaningup--dusting, you know, and taking things out of a box. "

"What sort of things?"

"Books and sofa pillows and pictures. I helped her, and by and by UncleBob came in. "

"And what did he say?" asked the Candy Man, just to keep her going. 

"Why, he said, didn't he tell me so? And wasn't it great to have herladyship there?"

"And what did her ladyship say?"

"She said he was a dear, and I forget what else. Oh, but listen! I'llbet you can't guess what her name is. "

He couldn't. He had racked his brain for a name at once sweet enough andpossessing sufficient dignity. He had not found it for the good reasonthat no such name has been invented. 

"It's a long name, " said Virginia, "as long as mine. I am named formy grandmother, Mary Virginia, but they don't call me all of it. " Shepaused to watch two white-plumed masons on their way to the commanderyon the next block. 

"Well?" said the Candy Man. 

She laughed. "Oh, I forgot. Why, it is Margaret Elizabeth. The doctorcame in; she's a lady doctor, you know, and said, 'Margaret Elizabeth, there'll be muffins for tea. ' And she said, 'All right. Dr. Prue. ' AndDr. Prue said, 'And cherry preserves, if you and Uncle Bob want them, 'and Margaret Elizabeth said, 'Goody!' And I must go now, " Virginiafinished. "There's Betty looking for me. "

Virginia might go and welcome. He had enough to occupy his thought forthe present. Margaret Elizabeth! Such a name would never have suggesteditself to him, yet it suited her. Beneath her young gaiety and charmthere was something the name fitted. Margaret Elizabeth! He loved italready. 

Why had he not guessed that the Little Red Chimney belonged to her?Had not the sight of it stirred his heart? And why should that have beenso, except for some subtle fairy godmother suggestion? The picture ofMargaret Elizabeth and Uncle Bob eating cherry preserves was a pleasantone. It brought her nearer. The Candy Man was inclined to like UncleBob, to think of him as a broad-minded person whose prejudices againstCandy Men, granting he had them, might in time be overcome. 

From being a bit low in his mind, the Candy Man's mood became positivelyjovial. When the sad grey man known to the children as the Miser, andinvested with mysterious and awful powers, stopped to buy some hoarhounddrops, he wished him a cheery good afternoon. 

The Miser was evidently surprised, but responded courteously, andrecalling the accident of two weeks ago, asked if the Candy Man hadheard anything of the injured chauffeur. 

It chanced that he had heard the Reporter say, only yesterday, that theman was doing well and likely to recover. 

"And the young lady? I think I saw her the other day going into a houseacross the street from my own. "

"The house with the Little Red Chimney?" asked the Candy Manindiscreetly, forgetting himself for the moment. 

A smile slowly dawned on the face of the sad man, but quickly faded, asa flock of naughty pigeons tore by, screaming, "Lizer, Lizer, look outfor the Miser!" If he had been about to make a comment, he thoughtbetter of it, and turned away. 

Having identified the Little Red Chimney as the property of the Girlof All Others, the Candy Man now made a new discovery. He had a roomin one of the old residences of the neighbourhood, so many of which inthese days were being given over to boarding and lodging. Its windowsoverlooked a back yard, in which grew a great ash, and he had beeninterested to observe how long after other trees were bare this one keptits foliage. He found it one morning, however, giving up its leaves bythe wholesale, under the touch of a sharp frost; and, wonder of wonders!through its bared branches that magical chimney came into view, with acorner of grey roof. 

Not far away rose the big smoke stack belonging to the apartment houses, impressive in its loftiness, but to his fancy the Little Red Chimneyheld its own with dignity, standing for something unattainable by greatsmoke stacks, however important. 

The Candy Man, it will be seen, did not attempt to reconcile conflictingevidence. He took what suited him and ignored the rest. Was Miss Bentleythe niece of Mrs. Gerrard Pennington? She was also the niece of UncleBob. Did she ride in haughty limousines? She also rode in street cars. Was she wined and dined by the rich? She also ate muffins and cherrypreserves, and brushed up the hearth of the Little Red Chimney. 

CHAPTER FIVE

_In which the double life led by the heroine is explained, andAugustus McAllister proves an alibi. _

"Yes, " said Miss Bentley, "I liked him. He turned out to be altogetherdifferent from my first impressions. That afternoon at the CountryClub he seemed rather stiff--nice, assured manners, of course, butunresponsive. But then the way in which we bounced in upon each otherwas enough to break any amount of ice. " She laughed at the recollection, clasping her hands behind her head. 

Instead of the little grey hat jammed down anyhow, she wore this morningthe most bewitching and frivolous of boudoir caps upon her bright head, and a shimmery, lacy empire something, that clung caressingly about her, and fell back becomingly from her round white arms. Miles and miles awayfrom the Candy Wagon was Margaret Elizabeth, who had so recentlyhobnobbed down the avenue with Uncle Bob. 

Mrs. Gerrard Pennington, in a similar garb, leaned an elbow on her desk, a dainty French trifle, and gazed, perhaps a bit wistfully, at MargaretElizabeth's endearing young charms. "I am delighted that you likeAugustus. He is a young man of sterling qualities. His mother and I werewarm friends; I take a deep interest in him. Of course he is not showy;perhaps he might be called a little slow; but he is substantial, andwhile I should be the last to place an undue emphasis upon wealth, oneneed not overlook its advantages. Augustus has had unusualopportunities. "

"Is Mr. McAllister rich?" Margaret Elizabeth dropped her arms in asurprise which in its turn stirred a like emotion in her aunt's breast, for Miss Bentley put rather a peculiar emphasis, it would seem, upon theword rich. "I should never have guessed it, " she added. 

If Mrs. Pennington had been perfectly honest with herself, she wouldhave perceived that her own surprise indicated a suspicion that minushis wealth the aforesaid sterling qualities were something of a deadweight, but not for worlds would she have owned this. It would be agreat thing for Margaret Elizabeth, if she liked him. If she could bethe means of establishing dear old Richard's child in a position suchas the future Mrs. Augustus would occupy, she would feel she had doneher full duty. Mrs. Pennington was strong in the matter of duty. 

"I should never have guessed it, " Margaret Elizabeth repeated, after aminute spent in a quick review of that talk in the summer house. 

"It is not always possible, surely, to gauge a person's bank account inthe course of one conversation, " her aunt suggested. 

"I don't mean that; but don't you think, Aunt Eleanor, you can usuallytell very rich people? They are apt to be limited, in a way. Not always, of course, but often. I can't explain it exactly. Perhaps it isover-refined. "

"If to be refined is to be limited, I prefer to be limited, " Mrs. Pennington remarked. 

It was plain that unless Margaret Elizabeth went to the length ofretailing the whole of that Sunday morning conversation, which was outof the question, she could not hope to make her meaning clear. 

"What surprises me, " her aunt went on, "is that you should have metAugustus in a public park. It is very unlike him. I wonder what hethought of you?"

This brought out Miss Bentley's dimples, as she owned he had seemed notdispleased to meet her. "I explained that I was waiting for Dr. Prue, who had gone in to see one of the superintendent's children. " Shefurther assured her aunt that River Bend Park was a delightful place inwhich to enjoy nature, on Sunday morning or any other time. 

"I confess I do not choose a public park when I wish to enjoynature--except for driving, of course. Perhaps, " added Mrs. Pennington, "that is what you call over-refined. "

Margaret Elizabeth considered this thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is, " shesaid. "Not being able to enjoy things that are free to everybody. "

But Margaret Elizabeth in that frivolously-becoming cap was an antidoteto her own remarks. Mrs. Pennington smiled indulgently. Richard'sdaughter came honestly by some eccentricities, not to mention thoseVandegrifts, whose influence she greatly deplored. 

"You will outgrow these socialistic ideas, my dear, " she said. "ButI am still puzzled, the more I think of it, at your meeting Augustus onSunday morning. Was it two weeks ago? I am under the impression he leftfor New York that very day. "

"He didn't mention it, but there are afternoon trains, " answeredMargaret Elizabeth. "He merely said something about a sick boy he wasgoing to see at St. Mary's. "

This again was very unlike Augustus, but Mrs. Pennington said no more. Meanwhile the faintest shadow of a doubt was dawning in her niece'smind; so shadowy she was scarcely aware of it, until, glowing from herwalk across the park, she entered the drawing-room that afternoon. 

There is, by the way, a difference between walking in Sunset Park, theabode of the elect, with a huge St. Bernard in leash, and taking thesame exercise at River Bend, unchaperoned save by a chance guard. Anyright-minded person must see this. 

A young man, who sat talking to Mrs. Gerrard Pennington before the fire, rose at her entrance. 

"I am glad you have come, Margaret Elizabeth, " her aunt exclaimed. "I think you know Mr. McAllister? But we have rather a good joke onyou, for August says he was never in his life in River Bend Park. "

"How do you do, Miss Bentley. Awfully glad to see you. That is, exceptto motor through, don't you know, Mrs. Pennington. "

Miss Bentley's brown eyes met Mr. McAllister's blue ones, and in theperiod of one brief glance she experienced almost as many sensations, and reviewed as much past history, as the proverbial drowning man. The casual resemblance was striking. But the eyes--these were not thefriendly, merry eyes to which she had confided the fairy godmothernonsense. Fancy so much as mentioning fairy godmothers in the presenceof these steely orbs. 

Margaret Elizabeth was game, however. 

"I was mistaken, of course, " she owned lightly, as she shook hands. "I have met so many people, and am stupid at connecting names and faces. I recall Mr. McAllister perfectly. " And straightway she plunged intoNew York and what was going on there. Had he seen "Grumpy" and wasn't itdear? And so on, and so on. Margaret Elizabeth could talk, and more thanthis she could look bewitching, and did, when she slipped out of herlong coat, and with many graceful upward motions, removed her hat andfluffed her hair. 

She would make tea, she loved to, in fact she seemed bent upon luringAugustus away from the fire and Mrs. Pennington. This young gentleman, whose mental processes were not rapid, and who habitually overworked anyidea that found lodgment in his mind, was disposed to dwell upon RiverBend Park and Miss Bentley's strange mistake in thinking she had seenhim there, when actually, don't you know, he was on his way to New York. It was just as well not to have the situation complicated by thepresence of her more alert relative, whose amused glances kept the glowon Margaret Elizabeth's cheek at a most becoming pitch. Perhaps, too, the subconscious thinking concerning that same queer mistake, which wenton while she chatted so gaily, so skilfully leading the way to saferground, had something to do with it. 

Augustus, unaware that he was led, was as clay in her hands. He warmedto her expressions of pleasure in the proposed dinner dance, which wereindeed entirely genuine. A dance was a dance, and Miss Bentley wasyoung. As she poured tea her curling lashes rested now on her cheek, were now lifted in smiling glances at the complacent Augustus, much aswhen on a certain Sunday morning, while softly laying bloom againstbloom, her eyes had now and again met the eyes of the Candy Man. Therewere other callers, other tea drinkers, but to none did Mr. McAllistersurrender his place of vantage. 

"If she keeps on like this, Augustus is hers--if she wants him, "Mr. Gerrard Pennington remarked to his wife later in the evening. 

"If I could have her all to myself, " Mrs. Pennington sighed; "but anyimpression I may make is neutralised by her association with thoseVandegrifts. It is an absurd arrangement, spending half her time downthere. "

"I think you are rather in the lead, aren't you, my dear?"

Mrs. Pennington shrugged her shoulders, but there was some triumph inher smile. "She is a dear child, in spite of some absurd notions, andI long to see her well and safely settled. I don't quite know in whather charm most lies, but she has it. "

"Oh, it's her youth, and the conviction that it is all so jolly wellworth while. She is so keen about everything. " There was an odd twinklein Mr. Pennington's eyes, usually so piercing beneath their bushy greybrows. Margaret Elizabeth called him Uncle Gerry. It was amusing. Heliked it, and enjoyed playing the part of Uncle Gerry. "Of course she'sbound to get over that. Still, I shouldn't be in any haste to settleher. "

His wife thought of her brother, the Professor of Archæology, now inthe Far East. "It is queer, but Dick never has, " she said, answeringthe first part of his sentence. But when she spoke again, it was tosay energetically: "The Towers needs a mistress, and August isirreproachable. Really, I am devoted to the boy. "

Mr. Pennington found this amusing. 

"If only it were a colonial house. It is handsome, but I prefer simplerlines, " Mrs. Pennington continued meditatively. 

The Towers was a combination of feudal castle and Swiss châlet erectedthirty years before by the parents of Augustus, and occupying acommanding position on Sunset Ridge. The irreverent sometimes referredto it as the Salt Shakers. 

Margaret Elizabeth meanwhile, in the solitude of her own room, wasasking herself questions, for which she found no answers. 

"Who--oh, who was this person with the nice friendly eyes that led oneon to talk about fairy godmothers?"

She considered it in profound seriousness for a time, then suddenlybroke into unrestrained laughter. 

CHAPTER SIX

_In which Margaret Elizabeth is discussed at the Breakfast Table; inwhich also, later on, she and Virginia and Uncle Bob talk before thefire, and in which finally Margaret Elizabeth seeks consolation byrelating to Uncle Bob her adventure in the park. _

"No, she is not regularly beautiful, " remarked Dr. Prue in herdiagnostician manner as she poured her father's second cup of coffee, "but there is much that is captivating about her. Her hair growsprettily on her forehead, the firmness of her chin, the line of her lipsin repose----"

"Mercy on us! You talk like a novel, " interrupted Uncle Bob, who waslonging to get in an oar. "Now I like her best when she laughs. "

"But I was speaking of her face in repose. "

"And any way, " persisted Uncle Bob, "if she isn't a beauty, I don't knowwhat you call it. She has the witchingest ways!"

"We were speaking of features, not ways. If you dissect her----"

"Good Heavens, Prue! Find another word. "

"If you dissect her, " the doctor repeated firmly, "you will find nothingremarkable in her separate features. "

"But I insist, " Uncle Bob spoke in a loud tone, and brought his fistdown so emphatically his coffee spilled over into the saucer, "thatbeauty is a complex thing consisting of ways as well as features. "The sentence was concluded in a milder tone, owing to the coffee. 

"Nancy, give Mr. Vandegrift another saucer, " said Dr. Prue. 

"My dear, there is no need. I can pour this back, " he protested. Then, afresh saucer having been substituted, he went on: "Take a landscape----"

"I haven't time for landscapes this morning, father. I am due at thehospital at nine. You'll have to excuse me. "

"Well, what I was going to say is, that it is the combination of allher separate qualities and characteristics, manifested in ways andotherwise, that is beautiful--that constitutes beauty. The somethingthat makes her Margaret Elizabeth, that subtle--" Uncle Bob was talkingagainst time. 

"Now, father, " Dr. Prue pushed back her chair and rose, "there isnothing subtle about Margaret Elizabeth, and you know it. She is athoroughly nice, quite pretty girl, and that is all there is to it. Ifthose Penningtons don't spoil her. " With this the doctor disappeared. 

"Miss Prue and her pa do argufy to beat the band, " Nancy remarked toJenny the cook as she waited for hot cakes. 

"That's all, Nancy. I shan't want any more, " her master told her whenshe carried them into the dining-room. "You needn't wait. " As the doorclosed behind her he smiled to himself. He always enjoyed the leisurelycomfort of those last cakes. 

The morning sun shone in brightly, emphasising the pleasant, substantialappointments of the room and the breakfast table. Its glint in the oldsilver coffee pot was a joy to him; the unopened paper at his elbowspoke to him of the interests of a day, like it, not yet unfolded. UncleBob after his own fashion savoured life. .. . 

[Illustration: DR. PRUE]

The sun had travelled around the house and was looking in at the westwindow of the Little Red Chimney Room, when Virginia discovered herladyship sitting on a low stool by her hearthstone deep in meditation. "I saw the smoke, " she announced, "so I thought I'd come over. "

"I am glad to see you, " Margaret Elizabeth said, waking up. "But whatsmoke do you mean?" And now it developed that although Miss Bentley wasof course aware of the Little Red Chimney, and indeed preferred it red, she had not understood its significance. 

In amused interest she listened while Virginia explained. "That dear, ridiculous Uncle Bob!" she cried, hugging her knees. "And what fun, Virginia!"

Virginia nodded. "Like a fairy-tale, " she said. 

"So it is, " Miss Bentley agreed, and became again lost in thought. 

From the other side of the hearth Virginia watched her. Her ladyshipto-day wore a grey-blue gown with a broad white collar, and shecontrasted harmoniously with the soft browns and greens of hersurroundings. Uncle Bob should have been there to enjoy the glint ofthe sunshine in her hair. 

It was an unobtrusive room, abounding in pleasant suggestions if you satstill and let them sink in: books around the walls, a few water coloursand bits of porcelain, an open piano, a work table, a broad divan withmany cushions, ferns in the windows, and the fire. 

Virginia, however, saw nothing of this; she was looking at MargaretElizabeth. "The Candy Man wanted to know where you stayed when youweren't here, " she remarked at length. 

Miss Bentley came out of her brown study in great surprise. Who in theworld was the Candy Man?

"Why, you know the Candy Wagon on the Y. M. C. A. Corner! And don't youremember how you fell in the mud, and the Candy Man helped you up, andI gave you your bag, and the Miser was there too?" Virginia spoke inpatient toleration of Miss Bentley's strange lapse of memory. 

"Naturally I was rather shaken and didn't notice. Was it a Candy Man whopicked me up? And a miser, you say?" Chin in hand Margaret Elizabethregarded her visitor. "It is all very interesting, but why should theCandy Man wish to know about me?"

Virginia owned that she had mentioned the Little Red Chimney to him, and that when the identity of her ladyship had come to light, he hadexclaimed, "I might have guessed!"

"Well, really, " said Miss Bentley, sitting up very straight, "whatbusiness is it of his to be guessing about me?"

"He isn't Irish like Tim, " Virginia hastened to assure her. "He's verynice. He's a friend of mine. "

Margaret Elizabeth laughed. "That makes it all right, I suppose; and ifhe picked me up--But who is the Miser?"

"He lives over there, " Virginia pointed toward the front window, "inthat stone house with the vine on it. Aleck says he has rooms and roomsfull of money. "

The house she indicated was almost black with time and soot, but itsfine proportions suggested spacious, high-ceiled rooms, and whatever itspresent condition, a past of dignity and importance. 

"How extremely interesting! What a remarkable neighbourhood this seemsto be!"

"Is it like a fairy-tale where you stay when you aren't here?" Virginiaasked. 

Sudden illumination came to Margaret Elizabeth. "That is just what itisn't, " she cried. "It's splendid and beautiful, and all sorts ofthings, except a fairy-tale. I wonder why? I love fairy-tales and LittleRed Chimneys. "

"So does the Candy Man, " exclaimed Virginia, charmed at the coincidence. "It must be fun to be a Candy Man, " she continued. "It isn't much likea fairy-tale where I live. I should like to live in a sure-enough housewith stairs. "

"You talk like a squirrel who lives in a tree. And speaking of squirrels, you and I must buy some nuts for our bunny sometime, from this CandyMan. If he picked me up I suppose I ought to patronise him. All thesame, Virginia, " and now Miss Bentley spoke with great seriousness, "I wish you not to say anything about me to him. It is rather silly, you know. "

Virginia did not know, but she longed to do in every particular whatMiss Bentley desired, so she promised. 

The opal lights in the western sky were the only reminders left of thesunny day, when Uncle Bob, seated comfortably in the big armchair, listened to Margaret Elizabeth's confession, the flames dancing andcurling around a fresh log meanwhile. In size it was but a modest log, for the fireplace was neither wide nor deep like those at PenningtonPark, but the Little Red Chimney did its part so merrily and well thatupon no other hearth could the flames dance and curl so gaily. At leastso it had seemed to Margaret Elizabeth, sitting there chin in hand, after Virginia's departure. 

"And you are certain you never met him before?" Uncle Bob ran hisfingers through his hair and frowned thoughtfully. 

"Perfectly certain. You see the resemblance was remarkable, all butthe eyes, and I thought Mr. McAllister had simply waked up. Peopleare sometimes stiff when you first meet them. He knew who I was, forhe called me Miss Bentley. Naturally I thought it was some one I hadmet--particularly when he mentioned the accident. You see, in gettingout of the machine at the Country Club a day or two before I caughtmy skirt in the door and fell, striking my elbow. It didn't amount toanything, though it hurt for a minute, but Aunt Eleanor made a greatfuss. He may have been somewhere about at the time, but I didn't meethim. And it makes me furious, " Margaret Elizabeth continued, "whenI think of his not telling me. "

"Telling you that you didn't know him?" asked Uncle Bob. 

"Certainly, he should have said at the very beginning, 'Miss Bentley, you are mistaken in thinking you know me. '"

"Ha! ha!" laughed Uncle Bob. 

"Now what are you laughing at?" his niece demanded. "Honestly, don't youthink he should have?" But she laughed herself. 

"Well, perhaps, " he owned, reflecting, however, that if MargaretElizabeth looked half so alluring that morning as she did now in hergrey-blue frock, with her bright hair a bit tumbled, it was asking agood deal of human nature. 

"Now, of course, Uncle Bob, this is strictly confidential. I wouldn'thave Dr. Prue know for the world. It is bad enough to have Aunt Eleanorsmiling sarcastically, though she doesn't know half. I think I have atlength quieted her, and the great Augustus is entirely mollified. " Shepaused to laugh again, then continued tragically, "Sympathy is what Ineed now. To begin with, it was the most perfect day--the sort to makeyou forget tiresome conventions. "

Uncle Bob nodded. "Perhaps he forgot, too, " he suggested. 

Margaret Elizabeth bit her lip. "That's true. I must try to be fair. He had nice eyes, Uncle Bob--with a twinkle in them. " A smile playedover her lips, her dimple came and went. She gazed absently at thecurling flame. Suddenly she rose from her ottoman, and seated herselfbolt upright on the sofa with one of the plumpest cushions behind her. "All the same it was inexcusable in me, " she declared sternly. 

"What was?" asked her uncle. 

"The nonsense I talked. About a Fairy Godmother Society! No doubt he waslaughing in his sleeve all the time. "

"Oh, I guess not. It sounds quite original and interesting. Have youcopyrighted the idea?"

"Uncle Bob, you are a dear. Some time I'll tell you all about it--whenI get over feeling so terribly, if I ever do. "

"Now, really, " insisted Uncle Bob, "I don't see why you should worry. You are almost certain to meet him again, and----"

"I shall die if I do, " Margaret Elizabeth declared; but somehow theassertion failed to ring true. 

"From what you have said he is plainly a gentleman, and altogethermatters might be worse, " Uncle Bob concluded. 

Miss Bentley shook her head. "I don't see how they could be, " sheinsisted. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

_Shows how the Candy Wagon is visited in behalf of the Squirrel, andhow pride suffers a fall; how Miss Bentley turns to Vedantic Philosophyto drown her annoyance, and discovers how hard it is to forget when youwish to. _

"When I reflect upon the small weight attaching to true worthunsupported by personal charm, I am tempted to turn cynic. "

Dr. Prue closed her bag with a snap and lifted her arms to adjust ahatpin. 

"Youth and beauty take the trick, that's a fact. " Uncle Bob laughed asif he found it a delicious comedy. 

They stood before the office window. At the gate the Apartment Pigeonswere fluttering around Margaret Elizabeth, while her ladyship gravelyadmonished them for some piece of mischief. 

"I believe she is taming the terrors, " remarked the doctor. 

"She had them all in the other afternoon, " said Uncle Bob, "sittingcross-legged on the floor like little Orientals, while she told themstories. Margaret Elizabeth can manage them!" His tone thrilled withpride. 

"Yes, and Miss Kitty Molloy will drop anything she has on hand to workfor Miss Bentley; the market-man picks out his choicest fruit for her;and so it goes, if you call it managing. Well, I must be off. Good-by. "

As Dr. Prue went out, Margaret Elizabeth, having dismissed the pigeonsfor the time being, came in, and sat down at her desk to finish aletter. 

She wrote: "Yes, Uncle Bob and Cousin Prue argue as much as ever, andI suspect that more often than not I am the subject upon which theydisagree. I am in a state of disagreement about myself, father dear. Society is absorbing beyond anything I dreamed of, and if I had notpromised you to stop and think for at least ten minutes out of thefourteen hundred and forty, I fear I should have already become a realSociety Person. "

At this point Uncle Bob looked in. "Well, how many parties on hand now?"he asked. 

Margaret Elizabeth laid down her pen and counted them off on herfingers, beginning with a tea at five, theatre and supper afterward, andso on, till the supply of fingers threatened to become exhausted. 

"Go on, I'll lend you mine, " said Uncle Bob. "Prue says, " he added, "that it is enough to kill you, but you look pretty strong. "

"She wouldn't mind if I worked my fingers to the bone for her hospitalor the Suffrage Association, but I want a little fun first, Uncle Bob. "Margaret Elizabeth supported an adorable chin in a pink palm andregarded her relative appealingly. 

"That's what I tell Prue. It is natural you should like best to stay atPennington Park, and go about in a splendid machine. I don't blame youin the least, and I don't wish you to feel bound to come down here whenyou don't really care to. Much as I love to have you, I shall not behurt. " Uncle Bob nodded at Margaret Elizabeth with a reassuring smilethat in spite of intentions was a bit wistful too. 

"I don't believe you understand, and for that matter, neither do I. Ilove you best, and the Little Red Chimney, and this darling room. Therearen't any fairies at Pennington Park, but--I do like the whirl, thefun, the pretty things, and----"

"The admiration, Margaret Elizabeth; out with it. You'll feel better, "said Uncle Bob. 

"Well, yes, people _do_ like me, and oh, I must show yousomething!" She sprang up, and from a box lying on the sofa she took afilmy, rose-coloured fabric. "What do you think of this?" she demanded, shaking out the shimmering folds before his surprised eyes. 

He rose nobly to the occasion. "Why, it looks like a sunset cloud. Is itto wear?"

"Certainly. It is a pattern robe. Miss Kitty across the street is goingto put it together for me. She is a genius. Sunset cloud is very poetic. Thank you, Uncle Bob. And now I must finish my letter before I go overto Miss Kitty's, and then I promised the children I'd go with them tobuy some nuts for the squirrel. A bunny who has the courage to live sofar downtown should be rewarded. I wish you had been here, Uncle Bob, tojoin our society. " Margaret Elizabeth sat down with the rosy cloud allabout her, and laughed at the recollection. "Never again will they throwa stone at his bunnyship. We laid our hands together so, and swore bythe paw of the cinnamon bear and the ear of the tailless cat, to takethe part of our brother beasts and birds. It was all on the spur of themoment, or I might have done better, but they were impressed. "

[Illustration: UNCLE BOB]

"I should think so, indeed, " remarked her uncle. "You are a sort ofphilanthropist after all. "

"Yes, I have a very marked bump. That reminds me, if I don't see Dr. Prue, you tell her, please, that I am going to take Augustus McAllisterto the Suffrage meeting. "

Having returned her robe to its box, Miss Bentley sat down at her deskand wrote furiously for five minutes, then folded her letter, put itin the envelope, and addressed, stamped, and sealed it, concluding thebusiness with a resolute fist. Shortly after, in the familiar grey suit, with the little grey hat jammed down anyhow on her bright hair, she wentforth, the box containing the sunset cloud under her arm. 

Homage and admiration attended upon her within Miss Kitty's humbleestablishment, and waited outside in the persons of the adoring pigeons. Virginia, having been unable to keep the story of the Little Red Chimneyto herself, must now in consequence share her ladyship with the flock. But certain privileges were hers--to walk next to Miss Bentley and claspher disengaged hand; to carry her bag or book; to act as her primeminister in keeping order. 

Thus Miss Bentley went her triumphant way that afternoon, allunconscious that there was any triumph about it. Not that she was whollyunaware of her own charm. As she confessed to Uncle Bob, she knew peopleliked her, and the knowledge was pleasing. She was now on her way to begracious to the Candy Man, and in this connection she had rehearsed aneat little scene in which she stood by and allowed the children to maketheir purchases, and then at the right moment asked easily if there hadbeen any more accidents on the corner of late, adding something abouthis kindness in helping her up, and so on. The Candy Man would of coursetouch his cap, for from Virginia's account he was rather a nice CandyMan, and reply, "Not at all, Miss, " or "That's all right"; then shewould smile upon him and the incident would be closed. 

The first half of the scene went off perfectly. The Candy Man wasselling taffy to a nurse-maid when they approached, and if he saw whowas coming, and if his heart was in his mouth, and if he felt a wildlonging to escape from the Candy Wagon, he gave no sign. To MargaretElizabeth, as they waited, he was a Candy Man in white jacket and cap, and nothing more. 

The pigeons fluttered joyously. Miss Bentley uttered an impersonal goodafternoon, Virginia advanced, a silver quarter in her palm, and demandedchestnuts for the squirrel. The bag was filled and held out to her, andas she handed over the quarter in exchange she explained, gratuitously, "We'll perhaps eat _some_ of them ourselves. "

At this the Candy Man looked up with a smile in his eyes, and met theglance of Miss Bentley, who immediately forgot all she had intended tosay, for these were the eyes that were not the eyes of Augustus. Therewas no excuse for arguing the question. She knew it. 

The point was, after all, Margaret Elizabeth concluded in the solitudeof her own hearth-stone, not whether she had been equal to the occasionto-day--and she hadn't--but that he on a former occasion had been guiltyof base behaviour. If this were a real Candy Man, one might excuse him, but he plainly was not. There was a mystery, and she loathed mysteries. She was annoyed to the point of exasperation. She would dismiss him fromher mind now and forever. 

Uncle Bob, reading the evening paper in the dining-room while Nancy setthe table, admitting as she passed back and forth an occasional savouryodor from the kitchen region, became aware of sounds in the hall whichbetokened some one descending the stairs in haste. The next momentMargaret Elizabeth stood in the doorway. 

"Uncle Bob, " she said, as she drew a long white glove over her elbow, her face shadowed by her plumy hat, "you remember you said it might beworse, and I insisted it couldn't be? You were right, it is infinitelyworse. "

With this she was gone, and a premonitory buzz of great dignity andreserve from the street presently indicated that she was being borneaway in the Pennington car. 

And now it was that Miss Bentley discovered how impossible it is toforget when you wish to. You may assist a treacherous memory with amemorandum, but no corresponding resource offers when you wish toforget. You may succeed in diverting your thoughts for a time, butsooner or later, ten to one, in the most illogical manner, the verything you seek to avoid forces itself upon your attention. What couldhave seemed further away from the Candy Man than ancient HindooPhilosophy? And into this she plunged to drown her annoyance, andincidentally help a fellow member of the Tuesday Club. MargaretElizabeth was ever ready to fill in a breach, and when Miss Allen cameto her in despair, having been positively forbidden to use her eyes, she obligingly agreed to help her. 

The subject grew, as all subjects have a way of doing. It was aprovidential ordering, Uncle Bob remarked, enabling the writers ofpapers to take refuge from criticism in the impressive statement thatit is impossible to treat of the matter adequately in so short a space. Margaret Elizabeth laughed, and crossed out a paragraph at the bottom ofher first page, and then set out for the Public Library. 

Seated in the Reference Room, with more books than she could read in ayear on the table before her, behold Miss Bentley presently inconsolablefor lack of a certain authority she chanced to remember in the collegelibrary at home. The whole force of the Reference Room mourned with her, for Margaret Elizabeth in the part of earnest student was no lesscaptivating than in her other roles. 

"I know where there is a copy, " said the youngest and wisest of theforce, "but it won't do you any good. Mr. Knight, the man the childrencall the Miser, has one. "

"I'll go and ask him to let me see it. I'd like to know a real livemiser. " Margaret Elizabeth closed the book she had in hand and rose. 

The force gasped at her temerity. They had heard he was a horrid oldman; but the youngest observed wisely that probably he wouldn't bite. 

Miss Bentley, however, having recently developed a bump of discretion, did first consult Dr. Prue in the matter, who responded, "Why certainly, I see no objection to your asking to see the book. Mr. Knight is aharmless, studious man. I have met him on two occasions when I wascalled in to attend his housekeeper, Mrs. Sampson, and he was courtesyitself. I will go with you and introduce you, if you like. "

Virginia, hanging around and overhearing, begged to be allowed to gotoo. "I'd love to see the inside of his house, " she urged. 

She was assured she would find it stupid, but this was as nothingcompared with the glory of entering the abode of the Miser in companywith her ladyship, and the other pigeons looking enviously on outside. 

Dr. Prue, of course, had no time to waste, so Margaret Elizabethhastened to find her pad and pencil, and across the street they wentforthwith. The Miser was discovered in his library, a spacious, shabbyroom, yet not too shabby for dignity, full of valuable and even rarethings, such as old prints and engravings, and most of all of books, which overflowed their shelves in a scholarly disorder not unfamiliarto Margaret Elizabeth. 

With businesslike brevity Dr. Vandegrift presented her cousin and hercredentials to Mr. Knight, who, with a quaint and formal courtesy, washappy to oblige the daughter of an author so distinguished in his chosenfield. 

Miss Bentley in her turn presented, with suitable gravity, Miss VirginiaBrooks, who promised to be quiet as a mouse, and whose eyes betrayed herdisappointment on discovering the inside of the Miser's house to be somuch like any other. 

After the necessary stir attending upon the finding of the desiredvolume, and getting settled to work, profound quiet again rested uponthe library. Margaret Elizabeth wrote busily, her book propped upon asmall stand before her, while across the room Virginia softly turned theleaves of a huge volume of engravings, pausing now and then to rest hercheek in her palm and regard the Miser steadily for a moment. 

The master of the library had the air of having forgotten their presencealtogether. Aided by a microscope, with a grave absorbed face, hestudied and compared a series of prints spread before him. So quiet wasit all, that the crackle and purr of the coal fire in the old-fashionedgrate made itself quite audible, and the leisurely tick of the clock inthe hall marked time solemnly. 

Margaret Elizabeth's interest in Vedantic Philosophy began after a timeto wane, and she allowed her attention to wander about the room, fromobject to object, until it concentrated upon the student himself. Washe really a miser? she wondered. He did not look it. His was rather theface of an ascetic. Suddenly it flashed into her mind that here was thesad, grey man of that unforgettable conversation in the park. 

Virginia slipped down and came to her side. "Is there really a room fullof gold?" she whispered. 

Margaret Elizabeth shook her head sternly. It was time they were going. Her hand was tired. She would ask permission to come again. As shereturned her book to the shelf, she displaced a smaller one, a shabbyleather-bound book, at which she scarcely glanced, but upon whichVirginia seized. 

"The Candy Man has one like this, " she said. "Such a funny name! See?Only his is Vol. One and this is Vol. Two. "

Miss Bentley cared not at all what strange books the Candy Man owned, and said so, frowning so severely you could scarcely have believed herto be the same person who only a few minutes later was thanking theMiser with such alluring grace of manner. 

She was welcome to come when she chose, she was assured, with gravepoliteness. His library was at her disposal. 

"You have many beautiful things, " said Margaret Elizabeth. "Thisportrait above the mantel, for instance, seems to me very interesting. "

The portrait in question was rather a splendid one of a military-lookingman probably in his thirties. One of the best examples of Jouett's workit was generally considered, Mr. Knight explained, and said to have beenan admirable likeness of his uncle, General Waite, at the time it waspainted. 

It was inexplicable that as Margaret Elizabeth gazed up at the generalthe eyes beneath the stern brows should become the eyes of the CandyMan. But her exasperation at this absurd illusion passed quickly intohorrified embarrassment, when Virginia, edging toward the master of thehouse, asked explosively, "Say, have you really got a room full ofgold?"

"There is one thing certain, you can never go there with me again, " saidMiss Bentley, on their way across the street. 

"But Aleck said----" began the culprit. 

"Never mind what he said. Aleck is a very ignorant little boy. Peopledon't keep gold in rooms. If they have it they put it in the bank orsend it to the mint. "

CHAPTER EIGHT

_In which the Miser's past history is touched upon; which shows howhis solitude is again invaded, and how he makes a new friend. _

"There isn't any mystery about _him_, so far as I know, " said theReporter, who was seated as usual upon the carriage block. The CandyWagon continued to act as a magnet for him, and in season and out hisgenial presence confronted the Candy Man. 

If his emphasis upon the pronoun was noticed, it was ignored. Themystery was, the Candy Man replied, how with such a face he could be amiser. 

"Oh, he's a bit nutty, of course. My grandmother says his money came tohim unexpectedly and the shock was too much for him. They say he has anotion he is holding it in trust. He is rational enough in every otherway, a shrewd investor, in fact. His uncle, General Waite, who left himthe money, was a connection of my grandmother's. "

"The Miser is a cousin then?"

"Not on your tintype, my friend. Old Knight was a nephew of thegeneral's wife, you see. "

"And there were no other heirs?" asked the Candy Man. 

"There was an own nephew, I have heard, who mysteriously disappearedshortly before the general's death. I have heard my grandmother mentionit, but it was long before my day. Why are you interested?"

Even to himself the Candy Man could not quite explain his interest inthis sad and lonely man, except that, as he had told Miss Bentley intheir first and only conversation, he had a habit of getting interestedin people. For example, in the house where he roomed there was a youngcouple who just now engaged his sympathies. The husband, a teacher inthe Boys' High School, had been ill with typhoid, and the little wife'sanxious face haunted the Candy Man. The husband was recovering, but ofcourse the long illness had overtaxed their small resources, and--But, oh dear! weren't there hundreds of such cases? What was the good ofthinking about it! Yet suppose there were a Fairy Godmother Society?

The Candy Man was a foolish dreamer, and his favourite dream in thesedays was of some time sitting beside the Little Red Chimney hearth, anddiscussing the Fairy Godmother Society with Miss Bentley. These brightdreams, however, were interspersed by moments of extreme depression, inwhich he cursed the day upon which he had become a Candy Man; momentswhen the horrified surprise in the eyes of Miss Bentley as sherecognised him, rose up to torment him. 

It was in one of these that the Reporter had presented himself thistime, and when he was gone the Candy Man returned to his gloom. Havingnothing else to do just then he opened the shabby book with the funnyname, and looked at the crimson flower. Through the stain of the flowerhe read:

 _"If a person is fearful and abject, what else is necessary but to apply for permission to bury him as if he were dead. "_

The book had come into his possession by a curious chance not longbefore, and he treasured it, not so much for its sturdy philosophy, asbecause it was in some sort a link to the shadowy past of his earlychildhood. 

The adjectives "fearful" and "abject" brought him up short. What mannerof man was he to be so quickly overwhelmed by difficulties? As for beinga Candy Man, did he not owe to this despised position his good fortunein meeting Miss Bentley at all?

Somewhere about eight o'clock the next evening, being Sunday, he mighthave been seen strolling by the house of the Little Red Chimney. Thatparticular architectural feature had lost its identity in the shades ofevening, but he was indulging the characteristic desire of a lover togaze at his lady's window under the kindly cover of the night. 

The blind was drawn within a few inches of the sill, but these inchesallowed him a glimpse of a blazing fire, and while he lingered a shadowflitted across the curtain in its direction, and then another, until inhis mind's eye he beheld Margaret Elizabeth and Uncle Bob seated besidethe hearth. For aught he knew, it might be Augustus McAllister makingan evening call, but the Candy Man was just then too determinedlyoptimistic to harbour such an idea. 

[Illustration: THE MISER]

As he passed on he was occupied in trying to picture to himself herladyship sitting before her fire, but that familiar little grey hat, which was so entirely inappropriate, would persist, in spite of all hecould do, in getting into the picture. Only once, when curling plumestook its place, had he seen her without it, and though for an instant hewould succeed in removing it, presto! before he knew it, there it wasagain, jammed down anyhow on her bright hair. 

With odds in favour of the hat, the struggle came to a sudden pause atsight of a tall figure leaning heavily and in evident pain against oneof the ornamental iron fences which prevailed along this street. At onceproffering his assistance, he recognised Mr. Knight, the Miser. 

It was plain the sufferer would have preferred to decline help. It wouldsoon pass. It was nothing. He had had such attacks before. He spokebrokenly, adding, "I thank you, " in a tone of dismissal. 

The Candy Man showed himself to be, when occasion demanded, a masterfulperson. Without arguing the point, he supported the Miser with a firmarm and began to urge him in the direction of his home. Mr. Knight, halffainting as he was, submitted without a word until his door was reached;then, there being no response to his companion's vigorous ring, hemurmured something about the servants having gone, and began to fumblein his pocket. 

The Candy Man, taking the latch key from his trembling fingers, openedthe door, and ignoring the evident expectation conveyed in his renewedthanks, continued to assert authority, supporting the invalid into hislibrary. "I shall not leave you alone until you are relieved, " he said. 

Again Mr. Knight submitted to his captor's will, and lying back in hisarm-chair directed him to the restorative that was prescribed for theseseizures. When it had been administered he lay quiet with closed eyes. 

The Candy Man now turned his attention to the fire, which had burnedlow, coaxing it skilfully out of its sullen apathy. He was brushing uptidily, when Mr. Knight, to whose face the colour was returning, spoke. 

"You are very kind, " he said, adding as the Candy Man felt his pulse andnodded his satisfaction, "are you a physician?"

"No, " was the smiling answer. "Merely something of a nurse. My fatherwas an invalid for some years. "

The sick man said "Ah!" his eyes resting, perhaps a little wistfully, upon the vigorous young fellow before him. "Don't let me keep you, " headded. "I am quite relieved, and my housekeeper will return very shortlyfrom church. "

Instead of leaving him the Candy Man sat down. "I have nothing to dothis evening, Mr. Knight, and unless you turn me out forcibly I mean tostay with you till some member of your household comes in. "

"I fear my strength is hardly equal to turning you out, " the Miserreplied with a smile. "You are most kind. " Then after a pause he addedapologetically: "Will you kindly tell me your name? Your face isfamiliar, but my memory is at fault. "

"My name is Reynolds, Robert Reynolds, and I am at present conducting acandy wagon on the Y. M. C. A. Corner. That is where you have seen me. " Hehad no mind to sail under false colours again. 

The sick man's "Indeed!" was spoken with careful courtesy, but hissurprise was plain enough. 

The Candy Man leaned forward, an arm on his crossed knee; his eyes metthose of the older man frankly. "It is not my chosen profession, " hesaid. "I happened to be free to follow any chance impulse, and theopportunity offered to help in this way a friend in need. It may havebeen foolish. I am alone in the world, and entirely unacquainted here. I should not care for the permanent job, but there's more in it thanyou would suppose. More enjoyment, I mean. "

"I recall now you mentioned the Little Red Chimney, " said Mr. Knight. 

The Candy Man grew red. Why had he been so imprudent? The Miser's memorycertainly might be worse. 

"And now I know why your face is so familiar, " the invalid went on. "I sat opposite to you in the car going to the park one Sunday morning. My physician prescribes fresh air. And later I saw you with thatbright-faced young girl, Miss Bentley. You were talking together in thepavilion near the river. You both seemed exceedingly merry. I enviedyou. I seemed to realise how old and lonely I am. I think I envied youher friendship. "

"Your impression is natural, " answered the Candy Man, "but the truth isI do not know Miss Bentley. We met unexpectedly in the pavilion thatmorning. I did not at the time realise it, I was unpardonably dense, but she took me for some one else. On the occasion of the accident thatfoggy evening--you perhaps remember it--I overheard the name she gave tothe conductor. Well, it seems she had no idea she was talking to a CandyMan that morning in the park, and I should have known it. "

The Miser leaned his head on a thin hand, and certainly there wasnothing sordid, nothing mean, in the eyes which looked so kindly at hiscompanion. It was not perhaps a strong face, nor yet quite a weak one;rather it indicated an over-sensitive, brooding nature. "You will notalways be a Candy Man, " he said. "I have made Miss Bentley'sacquaintance recently. She is friendliness itself. "

At this moment a grey slip of a woman, with a prayer-book in her hand, entered, and was presented as Mrs. Sampson, the housekeeper. The CandyMan rose to go, but Mr. Knight seemed now in no haste to release him. 

"I should be glad to see you again, if some evening you have nothingbetter to do, " he said. "You may perhaps be interested in some of mytreasures. " He glanced about the room. "You say you too are alone inthe world?"

"Quite, " the Candy Man answered. "Everyone I know has some relative, orat least an hereditary friend, but owing to the peculiar circumstancesof my life, I have none. I do not mean I am friendless, you understand. I have some school and college friends, good ones. It is in backgroundI am particularly lacking, " he concluded. 

"I have allowed my friends to slip away from me, " confessed the Miser. "It was the force of circumstances in my case, too, though I brought itupon myself. I have been justly misunderstood. "

"'Justly misunderstood. '" The Candy Man repeated the words to himself ashe walked home in the frosty night. They were strange words, but he didnot believe them irrational. 

CHAPTER NINE

_Shows how Miss Bentley and the Reporter take refuge in a cave, andhow in the course of the conversation which follows, she hears somethingwhich disposes her to feel more kindly toward the Candy Man; shows alsohow Uncle Bob proves faithless to his trust, and his niece finds herselflocked out in consequence. _

"Let's pretend we are pursued by wild Indians and take refuge in thiscave. "

The scene was one of those afternoon crushes which everybody attends andfew enjoy. Miss Bentley, struggling with an ice, which the state of theatmosphere rendered eminently desirable, and the density of the crowdmade indulgence in precarious, addressed her next neighbour, whom shehad catalogued as a nice, friendly boy. "It's Mr. Brown, isn't it?" sheadded in triumph at so easily associating the name with the face. 

The young man's beaming countenance showed his delight. "Good for you, Miss Bentley! It would be great. Let me have your plate while yousqueeze in. "

This corner behind a mass of greens seemed to have been left with theintention of protecting an elaborate cabinet that occupied a shallowrecess. However it might be, here was a refuge, difficult of access, but possible. Margaret Elizabeth held on to her hat and dived in. 

"Grand!" she cried. "This is beyond my wildest hopes, " and she perchedherself on a short step-ladder, left here no doubt by the decorators, and held out her hands for the plates. Mr. Brown found a more lowly seatbeneath a bay tree. They looked at each other and laughed. 

"My position is a ticklish one, so to speak, " he observed, vainly tryingto dodge the palm leaves to the right of him; "but I think we arereasonably safe from pursuit. "

"I haven't the remotest idea where my aunt is, " Margaret Elizabethremarked, eating her ice in serene unconcern. 

"Say, Miss Bentley, I have heard my cousin speak of you--AugustusMcAllister, you know. "

"Are you Mr. McAllister's cousin?" Miss Bentley's tone and smile leftit to be inferred that this fact above any other was a passport to herfavour. It must be regretfully recognised, however, that it would havebeen the same if Mr. Brown had mentioned the market-man. 

Having thus successfully established his claim to notice, the Reporter, as was his custom, went on to explain that he belonged to the moneylessbranch of the family. 

Margaret Elizabeth assured him, in a grandmotherly manner, that it wasmuch better for a young man to have his way to make in the world than tohave too much money. 

The Reporter owned this seemed to be the consensus of opinion. How thestrange notion had gained such vogue he could not understand, but therewas no use kicking when you were up against it. 

"Of course, it must be hard work, but it must be interesting. Don't youhave exciting experiences?" Miss Bentley asked. 

Oh, he had, certainly, and met such queer people, too. There was afellow who ran a Candy Wagon on the Y. M. C. A. Corner, for instance. "Youought to meet him, really, Miss Bentley, though, of course, you couldn'tvery well. He's a character, and I have puzzled my brains to discoverwhat he's doing it for. "

Miss Bentley was interested and requested further enlightenment. 

"Well, I have two theories in regard to him. He is an educated man, anda gentleman, so far as I can tell, and I think he is either studyingsome social problem, or he is a detective on some trail. "

"I never thought----" began Margaret Elizabeth. "I mean, " hastilycorrecting herself, "I should never have thought of such anexplanation. "

"He's up to something, you may be sure, " Mr. Brown continued. "I like totalk to him, and do, every chance I get. "

Margaret Elizabeth certainly showed a flattering interest in all theReporter had to say. "Some day when you have become a great editor, " sheassured him at parting, "I shall refer proudly to the afternoon when wesat together in a cave and ate ice cream. "

"Oh, now, Miss Bentley, " the Reporter protested in some embarrassment, "I'm sure I shall always think of it with pride, whatever I get to be, though that probably won't be much. "

This conversation was not without its influence upon Miss Bentley'ssubsequent attitude toward the Candy Man. That some one else had foundhim a unique and interesting personality was reassuring, and thethought that he might be engaged on some secret mission was novel andsuggestive. She began to reconsider and readjust, and in future, although she still avoided the Y. M. C. A. Corner, she allowed her thoughtsto turn once in a while in that direction. 

Meanwhile she paid two more visits to the Miser's library, on theseoccasions laying deliberate siege to his reserve with all the charm ofher bright friendliness. She asked questions about his beloved prints;intelligent questions, for Margaret Elizabeth had grown up in anatmosphere of appreciation for things rare and fine. She chatted abouther father and his work, and even ventured some wise advice about freshair and its tonic effect. Indeed, it is a cause for wonder that she wasable at the same time to collect the material which took shape later inthat most erudite paper. 

Under this invasion of youth and gaiety, the sombre, student atmospherebecame charged with a new, electric current. It was not owing solely toMiss Bentley, however, for Sunday evening now frequently found the CandyMan dropping in sociably to chat with Mr. Knight in his library. 

In these days the Miser often sat leaning his head on his hand, ameditative, half whimsical expression on his face, as if he found bothwonder and amusement in the chance that had so strangely brought theseyoung people across his threshold. 

One Sunday afternoon the Pennington motor, having deposited MargaretElizabeth at the Vandegrift gate, with a scornful snort went on itsswift way to more select regions. It was the first really cold weatherof the season, and while she waited at the door Margaret Elizabethexamined the thermometer, and then buried her nose in her muff. "Dear me!" she exclaimed impatiently. "Why doesn't somebody come?"

She rang again with no uncertain touch upon the button this time, andthen, crunching across the frozen grass, peeped in at her own window, where a glimpse of smouldering fire rewarded her. She returned to thedoor to ring and rap, still with no response. 

This was a most unusual state of affairs, for it was an inexorabledecree of Dr. Prue's that the telephone must never be left alone. Somebody must have gone to sleep. The cold and the darkness deepened andit became more and more evident that she was locked out. What shouldshe do? After canvassing the situation thoroughly, she could think ofnothing for it but to seek refuge with the Miser. Her acquaintance inthe neighbourhood was limited. Miss Kitty the dressmaker had gone tovespers, and her cottage was dark. The apartment house was too far away. From the Miser's library she could watch for the light which wouldbetoken the waking up of the delinquent one. So across the street, hernose in her muff, ran Margaret Elizabeth. 

The little housekeeper, Mrs. Sampson, who opened the door, was allsolicitude. Such a cold evening to be locked out! She knew Mr. Knightwould be glad to have her wait in the library. He had stepped out fora little walk, though she had warned him it was too cold. Thus saying, Mrs. Sampson ushered her in, and followed to see if the fire was all itshould be. 

It was, for the Candy Man had just given it a vigorous poking and put onfresh coal. The room was full of its pleasant light. 

Mrs. Sampson was surprised to find him there. "Miss Bentley, this isMr. Reynolds, a friend of Mr. Knight's, " she explained, adding that MissBentley was locked out, and wished to sit by the window and watch forher uncle to come back. "And if you'll excuse me, Miss Bentley, the cookhas her Sunday evenings out, and I get supper myself, " she added as shewithdrew. 

Margaret Elizabeth and the Candy Man faced each other in silence for asecond or two, then she said, very gravely indeed, "I am glad to meetyou, Mr. Reynolds. "

"Thank you, Miss Bentley. May I give you a chair?" he asked. 

"Thank you, I will sit here by the window. " The window was some distancefrom the fire, but as she sat down Margaret Elizabeth loosened her fursas if she felt its heat. 

The Candy Man waited, uncertain what course he should pursue. 

"Please sit down, Mr. Reynolds. I should like to talk to you, now theopportunity has so unexpectedly offered. " She regarded him stillseriously, her hands clasped within her large muff. "I think you owe mean explanation. "

"I am not sure I understand. " The Candy Man's heart was beating in anabsurd and disconcerting way, but he would keep his head and follow herlead. 

"Of course you are aware that you allowed me to talk to you that morningin the park, in a--most unsuitable manner, without even----"

"How could I?" cried the Candy Man entreatingly. "I did not know. "

"Did not know what?" demanded Miss Bentley sternly, as he hesitated. 

"I thought perhaps--I was dreadfully lonely, you see, and I thought--itwas preposterous--but I hoped you--don't you see?--didn't mind talkingto an unknown Candy Man. "

"Oh! was that it?" exclaimed Margaret Elizabeth in a tone difficult tointerpret. Did she think it preposterous, or not? It seemed to indicateshe found something preposterous. "Then you were disappointed in me, "she added. 

Never would the Candy Man admit such a thing. He had realised since thenwhat a cad he must have seemed, but----

"That, however, is neither here nor there, " she continued, "since I didnot recognise you. It was----"

"Preposterous?" he suggested. 

"Yes, preposterous, to suppose that I could. Why, it was nearly darkthat afternoon, and I----"

"Please don't rub it in. I know. You see I knew you so well. "

"Me?" cried Margaret Elizabeth. 

"I had seen you pass, I mean. "

Again Miss Bentley said "Oh!" adding: "You are also the person wholaughed when I made an idiotic remark about lighthouses in the grocery. "

The Candy Man protested. He had not laughed. 

"Your eyes laughed. That is how I first discovered my mistake. Yourresemblance to Mr. McAllister is remarkable. "

"So I have been told. " The Candy Man shrugged his shoulders, ever solittle. 

"However, to go back, I think you owe me an explanation, Mr. Reynolds, considering how you allowed me to talk to you under a false impression. I am not absolutely lacking in grey matter, " she added, while a smilecurled her lips, "and I think you owe it to me to tell me why you becamea Candy Man. "

"In return for the Fairy Godmother idea?" he asked mischievously. 

Miss Bentley's brows drew together. "If you knew how bitterly I haveregretted all the foolish things I said that day, you would not laugh, "she cried. 

"Do not say that, please, Miss Bentley. I beg your pardon, and I am notlaughing. I could not. If you only knew what it all meant to me. HowI----"

His distress was so genuine that Margaret Elizabeth was touched. "Well, never mind now. It can't be helped, and I am willing to have it inreturn for the Fairy Godmother nonsense, if you choose to put it so. "

And now perforce the Candy Man must explain himself. 

"You see, " he began, "I had been knocked out of everything througha bad accident that occurred at my home near Chicago--a runaway. Speaking of grey matter, there was some doubt for a time whether minewas not permanently injured. However, I gradually recovered, but I wasstill forbidden for another six months at least to do any brain work, and ordered by my doctor to loaf in the fresh air. Doing nothing whenyou are longing to get to work is no easy job. I left home with theintention of going South, and stopped off here for no particular reason. Perhaps I should have said that I have no family. My father diedsomething over a year ago. Oddly enough, in front of the station hereI met an Irish woman, once a servant in my father's house. She wasoverjoyed to see me, and poured out her troubles. Her son, who ran acandy wagon, had been taken ill with fever, and his employers would notpromise to keep the place for him, and altogether she was in hard lines, this boy being the main support of a large family. So now you see howthe idea occurred to me. To amuse myself and keep the boy's place. Andhaving no family or friends to be disgraced----"

"No one has intimated there was any disgrace about it, " Miss Bentleyinterrupted. "At worst it can be called eccentric. It was also very, very kind. "

"Oh, now, Miss Bentley, thank you, but I can't let you overrate that. Any help I have given was merely by the way. You must remember I wasin need of some occupation, and I assure you it has been very much ofa lark. "

"Yes?" said Miss Bentley. "Then no doubt before long you will be writing'The Impressions of a Candy Man, ' or 'Life as Seen from a Candy Wagon. 'It will be new. "

"Thanks for the suggestion, I'll consider it. But for the chance thatmade me a Candy Man I should have missed a great deal--for one thing, arealisation of the opportunity that awaits the Fairy Godmother Society. "

"But Tim will soon be about again, " said Margaret Elizabeth. 

"Then I must look out for another job; but your remark implies somefurther knowledge of Tim. I was not aware I had mentioned his nameeven. "

Miss Bentley bit her lip, then decided to smile frankly. "I met Timthe other day, " she said. "My cousin, Dr. Vandegrift, often visits St. Mary's, and I sometimes go with her. Tim is a nice boy, and full ofpraises for the kind gentleman who has done so much for him. "

"And also, let me add, for the lovely young lady who gave him a redrose, and----"

Margaret Elizabeth laughed. There was no getting ahead of this CandyMan. Had he known all along, or had he just guessed? "I see a light atlast, " she said, rising. "I must go, or they will be wondering what hasbecome of me. " . .. 

"Yes, I know it was my afternoon in, " said Uncle Bob plaintively, whileMargaret Elizabeth made toast at the grate and Dr. Prue set the table. "I merely ran over to the drug store for a second, but Barlow was thereand I got to talking. "

"It is quite unnecessary to explain, but I do wish, father, you wouldrefrain from speaking as if you were required to stay in. It was yourown proposition to let Nancy go. I could have made other arrangements. "Dr. Prue was aggrieved. There was no telling how many telephone callshad been unanswered. 

Margaret Elizabeth laughed. "You are absolutely untrustworthy, UncleBob. Hereafter I shall carry a latch key. "

"By the way, who was that young man who brought you home?" the doctorasked. 

"His name is Reynolds. He is a stranger here. I have met him once ortwice. " This casual explanation was accompanied by side glances whichindicated to Uncle Bob that there was more in it than appeared on thesurface. 

Margaret Elizabeth had been extremely reserved upon the subject of theCandy Man. Uncle Bob had not heard a word of it till now, when, besidethe Little Red Chimney hearth, supper having been cleared away, and Dr. Prue resting with a book on the office lounge, she told him the wholestory. 

"You don't say so! That beats anything I ever heard. Well, I said itwould come out all right, didn't I?" Margaret Elizabeth's narrative waspunctured, as Mrs. Partington would have said, with many exclamationssuch as these. 

"I own you were right. It isn't as bad as it seemed. He is really verygentlemanly and nice. Still, it is a bit awkward too, " she addedthoughtfully. 

It is possible she was thinking of Mrs. Gerrard Pennington at themoment. 

CHAPTER TEN

_In which the Little Red Chimney keeps Festival, and the Candy Manreceives an unexpected Invitation. _

The Candy Man, letting himself in at his lodging house, one gloomySunday afternoon, stumbled upon a deputation of pigeons, in a stateof fluttering impatience. 

"She said to wait, and we thought you were never, never coming!" wastheir chorus. 

"Never is a long day, " said the Candy Man. "What will you have?"

It appeared they were the bearers of a missive which read briefly andto the point: "Her ladyship requests the pleasure of the Candy Man'spresence at the Pigeons' Christmas Tree, at four o'clock thisafternoon. "

It had seemed to the Candy Man that he was altogether outside theholiday world, that for him Christmas had ended with his visit to thehospital that afternoon. He had ventured to send a basket of fruit tohis fellow lodgers, the invalid professor and his wife, and had playedSanta Claus to two or three newsboys who frequented the Y. M. C. A. Cornerand to the small Malones, and the state of his exchequer scarcelywarranted anything more. The social calendar in the morning paperoverflowed with festivities for the week, and he had pleased his fancyby picturing Miss Bentley, radiant and lovely, in the midst of them. He, the lonely Candy Man, without the pale, could yet enjoy her pleasure inimagination. And lo! this lonely Candy Man was bidden to a tree onChristmas Eve, by her ladyship. He could not believe his eyes. 

"It takes you a long time to read it, " said Virginia. "You'd bettercome. It's late. "

Dark was beginning to fall outside, but the Little Red Chimney room wasfull of firelight when the Candy Man was ushered in, in the wake of thechildren, by cordial Uncle Bob. It was a frolicsome, magical light thatplayed about a row of red stockings hanging from the shelf above it;that advanced to the farthest corner and then retreated; that coaxed anddared the unlighted Christmas tree by the piano to wake up and do itspart; that gleamed in Miss Bentley's hair as she seated the pigeons ina semicircle on the rug. 

Was it the magic of the firelight, or the absence of the grey hat, orthe blue frock with its deep white collar, or, or--The Candy Man got nofurther with his questions, for just then Margaret Elizabeth turned andgave him her hand, explaining that they were so much stiller when theysat on the floor. She added that it was very good of him to come--apurely conventional and entirely inaccurate statement. He was alsoinstructed to sit on the sofa with Uncle Bob. 

"And now, " began Miss Bentley, standing with her back to the row of redstockings and looking into the upturned faces, "we are going to berather quiet, for this, you know, is both Christmas Eve and Sunday. First, we'll sing 'While Shepherds Watched, ' very softly. "

She sat down at the piano and struck a few chords, then her voice rose, clear and sweet, the pigeons following her lead, a bit quaveringly atfirst, but doing wonderfully well considering they were not song birds. "She's been training them for weeks, " Uncle Bob whispered. 

After this came "Stille Nacht, " and Uncle Bob joined in, and then theCandy Man, and presently the entrance of Dr. Prue was proclaimed by avigorous alto. The effect was most gratifying to the performers, andfrom the piano Margaret Elizabeth murmured, "Very good. "

When the singing was over she took her seat on a low ottoman in themidst of the children, who drew closer. "Next, " she said, patting thehand Virginia slipped within her arm, "comes the story, which onChristmas Eve everybody should either hear or read for himself. "

Stillness fell on the Little Red Chimney room, the pigeons listened inbreathless absorption, while, forgetting herself and her audience, herhands loosely clasped on her knees, Margaret Elizabeth began the storywhich, as often as it may be told, yet throbs with tenderness andwonder. As she went on her eyes grew dark and deep, and in her faceshone something more than the sweetness and charm hitherto so endearing. Was it a prophecy? A glimpse into the unsounded heart of her?

Dr. Prue shaded her eyes with her hand; Uncle Bob wiped his glasses; theCandy Man's soul was stirred within him, but he gave no sign. 

"And they brought gifts, gold, frankincense and myrrh, to the littleChild in the manger; so now in keeping his birthday, we give each othergifts and are happy because of the wonderful night so long ago, " endedMargaret Elizabeth. 

After that it was no longer still in the Little Red Chimney room. UncleBob set the tree alight, and her ladyship distributed the red stockings. Nobody was left out, not even the Candy Man, or Nancy and Jenny hoveringin the background. 

Upon occasions like the Pigeons' Christmas Tree we long to linger, butthey are evanescent. The Candy Man must see the children home after afew brief words with Miss Bentley. 

"The Fairy Godmother Society must have been organised, and my nameentered among its beneficiaries, " he told her. 

"I am glad if you liked it, " she replied. "I thought you would. To-morrow I am going to Pennington Park to stay till after New Year's, but Christmas Eve belonged by rights to the Little Red Chimney. " Shesmiled, and the Candy Man nodded understandingly. 

This much in the midst of the chatter that accompanied the putting on ofsmall coats and leggings. 

"And I may hope that I am forgiven?" he had a chance to add as she gavehim her hand at parting. 

Miss Bentley's eyes twinkled. "It will do no harm to hope, " she toldhim. 

The Candy Man, his red stocking protruding from his overcoat pocket, conducted the noisy flock to their homes, then turning southward hewalked on and on toward the edge of the town. As is fitting on ChristmasEve, a fine snow had begun to fall, sifting silently over everything, transforming even the ugly and pitiful with a mantle of beauty. 

The Candy Man, striding on through the night, felt an unreasoning joy ashe thought of Margaret Elizabeth telling the story with the firelight onher face. The world seemed throbbing with expectancy. Who could tellwhat splendid event awaited its near fulfilment?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

_In which a radical change of atmosphere is at once noticed; whichshows how Miss Bentley repents of a too coming-on disposition, and lendsan ear to the advantages of wealth. _

The Christmas fire was not cold upon the hearth of the Little RedChimney before Miss Bentley was whisked away to other scenes, into anatmosphere so different that of necessity things took on another aspect. 

Mrs. Gerrard Pennington found intense satisfaction in her niece's socialsuccess. Given every advantage, she pointed out, one could never tellhow a girl would take, and Dick had brought up his daughter in such anodd way. Yet in spite of everything, even this awkward arrangement ofliving in two places, Margaret Elizabeth was popular beyond her fondesthopes. 

There were not wanting those who remarked that it would be a marvel ifshe were not spoiled. Probably they were right, and Margaret Elizabeth, at the flood tide of her social career, courted, fêted, the kingdoms ofthis world at her feet, was in danger. 

"And who sent this?" Mrs. Pennington demanded. 

It was Christmas Day, and "this" was an Indian basket of holly andmistletoe, conspicuous, among many costly floral offerings, by itssimplicity. The card which accompanied it read, "To her Ladyship, fromthe Candy Man, " but this Mrs. Pennington had not seen. 

"Oh, " answered her niece, "I don't know how to tell you who he is. He isa stranger here--a Mr. Reynolds. I met him at Mr. Knight's, where youremember I went to get some material for my paper for the Tuesday Club. "

This was all true, and, unaccompanied by a heightened colour, mighthave allayed her aunt's lurking suspicions, born of that unexplainedinterview in the park with some one who was not Augustus. 

Only once had Mrs. Pennington referred to this, asking half jokingly ifMargaret Elizabeth had ever discovered the identity of that person;putting a somewhat disdainful emphasis upon "person. "

"Never, " Margaret Elizabeth could at that time assure her, and sheadded, "I do not expect to, and certainly do not wish to. "

Mrs. Pennington, however, had her intuitions in regard to this unknownindividual. She anticipated his reappearance, and, like a wise general, in time of peace prepared for war. Keeping her vague fears to herself, she increased her vigilance. 

Annoyed because of that uncalled-for blush, far away from the Little RedChimney, with fairy-tales forgot, Margaret Elizabeth repeated her aunt'squestion. After all, who was Mr. Reynolds? That which had so latelyseemed an adventure compounded of kindliness and fun, she now beheldonly as an awkward situation. She began to feel that she had oversteppedthe bounds in asking him to the Christmas tree; and the red stocking!What nonsense! Why should she have felt concerned over his loneliness?Were there not many lonely people in the world? Might he not infer fromit all a rather excessive interest in him and his affairs? Her interviewwith Tim at the hospital, for instance, though it had come about by thepurest chance, looked on the surface as if she had been bent uponinvestigating him. 

The Candy Man's offering, which she at first found so happilysignificant and appropriate, now began to seem almost a piece ofpresumption. It lay ignored if not forgotten, till its brown andwithered contents were tossed into the fire by one of the maids. DidMiss Bentley wish her to save the basket?

No, Miss Bentley cared nothing for it. Or, wait--she liked sweet grass, and on second thought she would keep it. 

Never had the holiday season been so gay. There was not time for aminute's connected thought. Margaret Elizabeth honestly tried to keepher promise to stop and reflect for at least ten minutes a day, buteither she went to sleep, or fell into a waking dream that bore smallrelation to the sober realities upon which she was supposed to dwell. 

There were guests at Pennington Park for the holidays--English friendsof her uncle and aunt, persons of a broader culture than MargaretElizabeth had ever before encountered. They afforded her an objectlesson of the best that accrues from wealth and tradition, and is onlyto be attained by means of them. Within herself she was aware of anaptitude of her own for these things. 

But half divining her niece's mood, Mrs. Gerrard Pennington skilfullyand subtly fostered it, and Augustus McAllister, with unexpected tact, followed her lead. 

Augustus was genuinely in love, and it brought out the best that wasin him. For the first time in his life something resembling humilitymanifested itself, a humility which sat gracefully upon the possessorof variously estimated millions. It seemed to say: "Here is one who, although not brilliant, may be led into any desirable path. " And withhis other substantial attractions he combined his full share of goodlooks. 

To be unresponsive was not in Miss Bentley's make-up, and the attentionsof Augustus assumed in these days a delicate and pleasing character. What girl could be indifferent to the prestige born of the generallyaccepted opinion that the position of mistress of the Towers was hersfor the word?

In truth, all this homage--and Augustus was far from being alone init--was to Margaret Elizabeth an exciting game, that need not be takentoo seriously. It was only when she thought of the Candy Man that shebecame serious and annoyed. How impossible, in the atmosphere ofPennington Park, appeared any explanation or justification of so absurda position as his!

[Illustration: COUSIN AUGUSTUS]

When, after a morning recital by the Musical Club, Miss Bentley was seenwalking down the avenue with Augustus McAllister, society seized upon itas confirming an interesting rumour. It was absurd, of course. MargaretElizabeth did it quite innocently. She really felt the need of exercisein the open air, and could not very easily dismiss Mr. McAllister, whohad accompanied her aunt and herself to the concert, and who also feltthe need of air. 

Did she think of the Candy Man when they passed the Y. M. C. A. Corner?Yes, she did. Though she gave not so much as half a glance in thedirection of the Candy Wagon, she hoped he was not too busy to observe. It might counteract possible false impressions in the past. 

A few days later there appeared in a column of the _Evening Record_, given up to such matters, an item regarding the soon-to-be-announcedengagement of a certain charming and beautiful girl, only recently aresident of the city, and a young man of wealth and social position. 

It brought Miss Bentley up short. She disliked newspaper gossipextremely, and an allusion so faintly veiled that everyone mustunderstand, was under the circumstances most embarrassing, for the truthwas she had not been asked. Her cheeks burned. Yet it was thanks only tosome clever fencing on her part, and perhaps some words of caution toAugustus from his mentor, that she had not been, and she knew in herheart it must come soon. 

Just when you were having a good time and did not wish to be bothered, it was tiresome to have to decide momentous questions, she told herselfalmost fretfully, as she was borne swiftly and smoothly downtown oneafternoon. There was the usual detention at the Y. M. C. A. Corner, andMargaret Elizabeth looked out and almost into the Candy Wagon before sheknew it. But there was no cause for alarm. Beneath the white cap of theCandy Man shone the round Irish countenance of Tim Malone. 

Was it Tim after all who had viewed her triumphal walk down the avenue?The question brought not a hint of a smile to Miss Bentley's lips; andthis was a very grave symptom. 

If Uncle Bob had been within reach! But he wasn't. He had run down toFlorida to look after his orange grove, and Dr. Prue was up to her eyesin grip cases. There was every reason why Margaret Elizabeth should stayon at Pennington Park. 

So the Little Red Chimney had no chance to get in its work. In vainVirginia looked from the dining-room window for its curling smoke. Invain did the invalid sister of Miss Kitty, the dressmaker, dream of thebeautiful young lady who brought her roses. In vain did the postman andthe market-man inquire of Nancy when Miss Bentley was coming back. Tothe Miser alone, who from his study window had also noted the deadnessof the Little Red Chimney, was the privilege of a word with theenchantress accorded. It came about through Mrs. Gerrard Pennington'sinterest in the furnishing of the new quarters of the Colonial Dames. 

Hearing of a desirable print owned by Mr. Knight, which it wasunderstood he might be induced to part with, she drove thither tocanvass the matter, accompanied by her niece. On the way they pickedup Augustus, who knew nothing of prints, but was pleased to join theexpedition. 

The Miser, beneath his grave courtesy, seemed taken aback by thisinvasion of his solitude. Mrs. Pennington's conventional suavity plainlyembarrassed him. He smiled indeed at Margaret Elizabeth, remarking as hespread out his engravings that it had been long since he last saw her. 

The impulse was strong upon her to follow him to his desk and ask if hehad any news of the Candy Man. There were moments when she thought itstrange she had had no word. These were but fleeting moments, however;for the most part she succeeded, or thought she succeeded, in dismissinghim to the limbo of the past. So now she resisted the impulse to asknews of him. 

When it came to negotiations Margaret Elizabeth and Augustus, leavingMrs. Pennington to conduct them, moved about the room, viewing theMiser's curios. 

"Do you care for mezzotints?" she asked him. 

"I don't know the first thing about them, " Augustus owned. "In factnever saw one. "

She laughed. "Oh, yes, you have. Ever so many of the Reynolds and Romneyportraits were reproduced in mezzotint. If I am not mistaken there isone hanging in your own hall. "

Augustus gazed at her in undisguised admiration. "I don't see how youlearn so much, Miss Bentley. I have no doubt I have a lot of things youcould help me to appreciate. "

From this dangerous ground she moved hastily, calling attention to theportrait above the mantel. Mr. McAllister was more at home here. 

"A rattling good picture. General Waite, by the way, " he informed her, "was own cousin to my grandmother on my mother's side. My greatgrandfather and his father were brothers, don't you know. "

"Indeed!" said Margaret Elizabeth, politely. The relationship didnot interest her, but she wondered, in annoyance, why the cousin ofAugustus, on his mother's side, should look down on her with the eyes ofthe Candy Man. Stern eyes they were, with a sparkle of humour behind thesternness. 

On the way home Mrs. Pennington was stirred to reminiscence. "One ofthe first parties I ever attended was in that old house, " she said. "It must have been thirty-five years ago. I was a very young girl--barelyseventeen. General Waite was a most courtly man, and his wife was quitefamous for her beauty. It was there I met Mr. Pennington. He and thegeneral's nephew, Robert Waite, were great friends. They went to collegetogether. He disappeared strangely. I remember Gerrard was dread fullyupset about it at the time. It was just before our marriage. "

To all this Margaret Elizabeth only half listened. The eyes of thegeneral lingered reproachfully with her, and perhaps were at the bottomof that policy of postponement with which Augustus was met when theinevitable moment came. 

Just a little time was all she asked. Mr. McAllister was talking of atrip to Panama; let him go, and on his return he should have his answer. 

Miss Bentley was very sweet as she spoke thus; eminently worth waitingfor. So Augustus went to Panama, and she was left to argue matters withherself. 

During the process she grew pale. Mixed up with her arguments was thatfoolish idea that she ought to have heard something from the Candy Man. Had he seen that item in the _Evening Record_?

Mrs. Pennington noticed the pallor, but treated it lightly. MargaretElizabeth was tired out, but now Lent was here she would rest. She wasworn to death herself, but she would recuperate, and surely her niece, who was years younger, could do the same. She failed to take intoconsideration the complications lacking in her own case. In fact, havingbrought matters to the present status, Mrs. Pennington allowed herselfto relax. 

Mr. Gerrard Pennington looked at Margaret Elizabeth from beneath hisbushy brows. Confound them, what were they doing to her? She had a wayof joining him in the library, and sitting with a book in her lap, whichshe seldom read. 

One day, laying down his paper, and after a cautious glance over hisshoulder, he remarked: "Did it ever occur to you, Margaret Elizabeth, that you don't have to marry anybody?"

She stared at him with surprised eyes, in which a smile slowly dawned. "Why, Uncle Gerry, what do you mean? Of course I don't have to. "

"There is a great deal in suggestion, " continued Mr. Pennington. "Keeptelling people a certain thing, confront them with it on all occasions, and they will be influenced in spite of themselves; and it has occurredto me----"

"Yes?" said Margaret Elizabeth. 

"Well, that it applies in your case. " Mr. Pennington cleared his throat. "A certain person whom we know has behaved very well of late; betterthan I thought was in him, but--unless you are pretty sure you can'tlive without him--Now this is rank treason on my part, but don't be toosoft-hearted, Margaret Elizabeth. "

Mr. Pennington returned to his stock-market reports, and silencereigned, but presently two hands rested on his shoulders, and a velvetcheek touched his for a moment. "Thank you, Uncle Gerry, " said MargaretElizabeth. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

_Which shows Miss Bentley recovering from a fit of what Uncle Bobcalls Cantankerousness; in which a shipwrecked letter is brought tolight, and Dr. Prue is called again to visit the child of the ParkSuperintendent. _

"And he turned into a splendid prince (he had been one all the timereally, you know), and he laid all his riches at Violetta's feet, andmade her a princess, because she had been true to him through thick andthin. "

Virginia's voice rose in triumphant climax. 

"That's all very fine in a fairy-tale, Virginia, and it is an extremelygood one for a little girl like you to make up out of her own head. Butyou know in real life it is different. " Margaret Elizabeth gazedpensively into the fire. 

Virginia, prone upon the hearth-rug, was disposed to argue what she didnot understand. "How different?"

"Well, in a fairy-tale you can have things as you want them, but inreal life you get tangled up in what other people want, and with dutyand common sense; and when you determine to follow your--" MargaretElizabeth was going to say "heart, " but changed to "intuitions, " "youare left high and dry on a desert island. "

Virginia was to be excused if she failed to make head or tail of this. "I wish the Candy Man would come back, " she remarked irrelevantly. "Hewas much nicer than Tim. He liked fairy-tales. He said he was comingsome time. "

"Oh, did he?" said Miss Bentley. 

The reference to a desert island, and a disposition to quarrel withfairy-tales, go to show that while she was decidedly more like herselfthan in the last chapter, her recovery was not yet complete. In factMargaret Elizabeth was suffering from the irritability that so oftenaccompanies convalescence. Cantankerousness was Uncle Bob's word for it, and he defended it with all the eloquence of which he was master, hisfinger on the page in the dictionary where it was to be found in goodand regular standing. 

It really did not matter what you called it; the point was, that in anargument with her aunt, Margaret Elizabeth had gone further than sheintended; had said what had better have been left unsaid. This sheconfessed to Dr. Prue. 

"Let me see your tongue, " commanded that professional lady, regardingher searchingly. 

Margaret Elizabeth displayed the unruly member, laughing as she did so. 

"What did you say to Mrs. Pennington?"

"We were speaking, " Margaret Elizabeth answered meekly, "of gratitude, and Aunt Eleanor said, as you are always hearing people say, that thereis little or none of it in the world. You see, in some matter which cameup in the Colonial Dames, Nancy Lane sided against her. 'And after allI've done for her!' cried Aunt Eleanor. I said I thought gratitude wasan overrated virtue anyway, and that to expect a person to vote your waybecause you had been good to her, was a kind of graft. "

"Humph!" said Dr. Prue. 

"I know it was a dreadful, dreadful thing to say. " Tears were inMargaret Elizabeth's eyes. "When she has been loveliness itself to me. There it is, you see. I have thought about it, and thought about it, until I'm all mixed up. "

"What did your aunt say?"

"She was very dignified. She had not expected to hear such a thing fromme. Then she walked away. "

"I hope you asked her pardon. "

"I had no chance. She has gone to Chicago--was on her way to the stationthen. I will, of course. "

"For a young thing your ideas are not bad, though your problem isentangled in foolish convention, personal pride and so on. But neitheryou nor I was born to set the world right. Now cheer up and think nomore about it for the present. Be ready at two o'clock to go to the parkwith me. The superintendent's child is ill again. "

Having delivered her prescription, Dr. Prue left, and her patientreturned to her hearth-stone and an endeavour to be honest withherself. Virginia had interrupted this most difficult process with herfairy-tale. While it could not be said to bear upon the situation, aftershe had left Margaret Elizabeth was conscious of a faint lightening ofthe fog. 

As they sped smoothly toward the park, in the new electric, MargaretElizabeth driving, Dr. Prue exclaimed, "There, I'm forgetting thatletter again. " Unfastening her bag she held it open while she continued, "I hope you'll forgive whoever is to blame, but when the hall was beingcleaned yesterday, James fished this out of the umbrella jar. Dear knowshow it got there or when; it looks as if it had been in a shipwreck. "She produced a stained and sorry-looking missive from her bag. "You canjust make out the address, the postmark is quite gone, " she added, laying it in her companion's lap. "You haven't missed an importantletter, have you?"

"Not that I know of, " Margaret Elizabeth replied with a laugh that wasa bit unsteady. "It is probably nothing of value. " She kept her gaze onthe road ahead. "Just slip it in my pocket, please. "

All the rest of the way to the park her heart thumped uncomfortably. Could it be? Of course not, it was an advertisement. Why get excited?Meanwhile she chatted pleasantly with Dr. Prue. 

"All you need is fresh air and a simple life for a while. Your colourhas come back wonderfully, " the doctor remarked as they drew up at thecottage gate. "Will you wait for me here?"

"If you don't mind, I think I'll go into the park, and if I'm not backby the time you are ready, don't wait. I can take the street car. "

Turning in at the entrance to the park, Margaret Elizabeth was for afleeting moment aware of a Candy Wagon standing at the curb a few yardsaway. There was nothing unusual in this except the odd way in which itfitted into the situation, and the next moment she had forgotteneverything but the letter in her hand. 

She walked slowly down the path. The April sunshine sifted through afaint and feathery greenness overhead, the air was clear and fresh. Shewas thinking that she had seen just one little scrap of the Candy Man'swriting--on the card accompanying the Christmas basket; and this on theletter was blurred and stained, yet she was sure of it. He had written. She had been sure he would. She was glad. She would be honest withherself. She wanted him for a friend. In many ways she liked him betterthan any one she had met this winter. She wanted to know more about him. 

She tried to tear the letter open, but for all it was so damaged thepaper had remained tough. She would wait to read it till she reached thesummer house. That little vine-hung arbour had been in her thought eversince Dr. Prue proposed to bring her down to the park. She had a foolishdesire to sit there and look at the river, and go on being honest withherself. 

Margaret Elizabeth, mounting the steps and looking at her letter as shedid so, was confronted by somebody who started up in surprise from thebench where she had sat with her flowers that autumn day. 

For one surprised moment she and the stranger faced each other, thenMiss Bentley exclaimed, "I saw the wagon at the gate, but I didn't knowit was yours. " And then the mischief faded into simple honest gladnessas she held out her hand. "I certainly did not expect to see you, " sheadded, "but you are an unexpected sort of person. "

"Nothing so wonderful as the chance of meeting you occurred to me for amoment, " the Candy Man assured her. "In fact I was not certain you caredto see me. " Those same pleasant eyes, so emphatically not the eyes ofAugustus, looked into hers questioningly. 

Margaret Elizabeth held up the letter. "It was shipwrecked, " she said. "I got it only a few minutes ago. I haven't read it. I thought it wasyou who didn't care to be friends. "

The Candy Man did not exactly understand how a letter could beshipwrecked in an overland journey of ten hours, but he dismissed it asof no importance. "It isn't worth reading now, " he said. "It was justto make my adieus and ask if some time when I had lived down my past, "here he smiled, "I might come back and tell you my strange story. I wascounting on your willingness to be friends. You remember you said itwould do no harm to hope. "

"Oh, did I? And when you did not hear from me, what did you think?Honestly, " asked Margaret Elizabeth. 

"I thought of course there must be a reason. A shipwreck did not occurto me. "

"Do you mean a reason for not being friends? But you came. "

"The suspense was too much for me. I haven't many friends; and besides, this is on the way to Texas. "

"So you are going to Texas this time?"

It seemed the Candy Man had heard of an opening there. 

Margaret Elizabeth wanted to ask why he had come to the park, butsomething told her not to; instead she said, looking away to the shiningriver, "I know of no reason why we should not be friends. So I am readyto hear the story you speak of. Is it more strange than the adventuresof a Candy Wagon?" Her eyes came back and met his as they had done theday when the conversation turned upon fairy godmothers. MargaretElizabeth was not spoiled. 

"It is more serious, " was his reply. "In fact, it is very serious. The Candy Wagon was a mere episode. What I wish to tell you now goesdeeper. "

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

_In which the Candy Man relates his story, and the Miser comes uponVolume I of the shabby book with the funny name. _

"I want you to know all about me, " began the Candy Man, taking from hispocket the shabby little book Virginia had once remarked on, "so theremay be no more wrong impressions. "

They sat in the sunshine on the top step of the little pavilion, facingthe river. Margaret Elizabeth, supporting her chin in her hand, regardedhim gravely. The west wind was cool on their faces. 

"I have often imagined myself telling you, " he went on. "Not that thereis much to it, besides its strangeness. In fact, to be brief, I don'tknow who I am. "

The surprise in Miss Bentley's eyes caused him to add quickly: "Not thatI am a foundling. But my father and mother were lost at sea when I wasthree years old. We were coming from Victoria to San Francisco, when thesteamer went down. Only a few of the passengers were saved, I amongthem. "

"How sad and terrible!" cried Margaret Elizabeth. "Can you remember it?How lost and lonely you must have been! Poor little child!"

"I recall it only in a vague way, " he answered, "confused with what hassince been told me. When it was known that my parents were lost, a manand his wife, fellow passengers, offered to adopt me. Beyond the name'Robert Deane, Wife and Child, ' on the list at the ship's office, theywere unable to learn anything about me, and I was too young andbewildered to give any clue. "

"That is very strange, " said Margaret Elizabeth. "Your new father andmother were kind to you?"

"So kind I soon forgot the terror and loneliness, and grew happy andcontent. Everything was done to make me forget, and I think while theymade every effort to find out something about me, they were glad whenthey failed. I wish now that my childish memories might have beenfostered, for I find myself reaching back into a mist full of vagueshapes. 

"My new father was a civil engineer, whose work took him here, there andeverywhere throughout the broad West. I never knew a permanent home. Myadopted mother died when I was twelve. After that came boarding schooland college. About the time I left college my father's health failed, and for several years he was helpless and very dependent upon me, soI gave up my plan of entering a mining school. 

"It was during his illness that he began to speak to me of my ownparents. He had talked to them on several occasions during the voyage, and he described them as young people of refinement and education. Mymother, he thought from her speech, was English. They rather held aloof, he said, and seemed disinclined to mention their own affairs. While hewas ill the news came to us of the finding in a storage warehouse in SanFrancisco of an old trunk which it seemed probable had belonged to myparents. Without going into detail, I may say it was through an oldacquaintance of my adopted father's, who knew the circumstances of myadoption, that we heard of it. He had some interest in the warehouse, which was about to be torn down and rebuilt. This trunk was found insome forgotten corner where it had lain for twenty-five years. "

"And did it throw any light?" asked Margaret Elizabeth. 

"Not much, it rather deepened the mystery. There was little ofsignificance in it, but this book and a package of letters. From them Ilearned nothing definite, but gathered the unwelcome probability that myfather was under some sort of cloud, and was not using his real name. This was a matter of inference--of deduction, largely, but it was plainhe had left his home in some sort of trouble. 

"It is not easy to piece together scattered allusions, when you have noclue. The letters were most of them written by my father to my mother, just before and soon after their marriage, with one or two from her tohim. One of these, which I found between the leaves of this little book, I want you to read. It concludes my story, and to my mind lightens it alittle. "

The letter the Candy Man held out to Margaret Elizabeth was written onthin paper, in a delicate angular hand. 

"Ought I to read it?" she demurred. "Are you sure she would like it?"

"Somehow I am very sure, " he answered. "And I feel that it will be agrip on our friendship. I have told you the worst, I wish you to knowthe best of me. "

She acquiesced, and, an elbow on her knee, shading her eyes with herhand, she read the letter, whose date was thirty years ago. Far backin the past this seemed to Margaret Elizabeth, yet it was a girl likeherself who wrote. 

The first sentences were almost meaningless, so strong was the feelingthat she had no right to be reading it at all, but as she went on sheforgot her scruples. It was evidently a reply to a letter from her loverin which he had spoken of the cloud that hung over his name, and it wasa confession of her faith in him, girlish, sweet and tender. "I trustyou, Robert, " it said. "It is in you to do heedless things, to bereckless, if only because you are young and eager and strong; but itis not in you to be dishonourable; of this I am as certain as I am ofanything in life. Some day the truth will be known and you will becleared, but whether it is or no, I choose to walk beside you. I chooseit gladly, happily. I write the words again, gladly, happily, Robert. Yours, Mary. "

"Oh!" cried Margaret Elizabeth, lifting a glowing face, "I love Mary. "

"She was brave and unselfish, " said the Candy Man. 

Margaret Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, that is one side of it. Still, you see, she was sure, and it was, as she says, a joy to cast in her lot withhim. 'Gladly, happily. '" Her eyes shone. She gazed far away down theriver. The wind blew little tendrils of bright hair across her cheek. "It must be so when you care very much, " she went on. 

"But, " argued the Candy Man, "under the stress of very noble feelingpeople sometimes do foolish things, do they not?"

"But this was not. Do you think for a moment Mary ever regretted it?I see what you mean by the best of you. It is something to have suchcredentials. " Margaret Elizabeth's gaze met the Candy Man's, and hereyes were deep as they had been on Christmas Eve, in the firelight. 

Oh, Margaret Elizabeth, it is your own fault, for being so dear, sounworldly! Could you, can you, cast in your lot with an unknown CandyMan? He has no business to ask you. He did not mean to, but only toprepare the way. He knows he is no great catch, even from the point ofview of a Little Red Chimney. These are not the precise words of theCandy Man, but something like them. .. . 

So absorbed was Margaret Elizabeth in the thought of Mary, she was a bitslow in taking in their meaning. She gave him one startled glance, andthen looked down, as it happened, upon the shabby little book which layon the step between them. Absently she drew it toward her, and withfingers that trembled, opened it, as if to find her answer in its pages. Then a smile began faintly to curl about her lips, and she read aloudfrom the book:

 _"What we find then to accord with love and reason, that we may safely pronounce right and good. "_

"Judged at the bar of reason I fear my case is hopeless, " protested theCandy Man, putting out his hand to close the book. 

But Margaret Elizabeth clasped it to her breast. "I see nothingunreasonable in it, " she declared stoutly. As she spoke a faded crimsonflower fell in her lap. 

Somewhat later in the afternoon, Miss Bentley and the Candy Man, walking together along the river path, had they not been so engrossedin their own affairs, might have recognised the tall, stooping figureof the Miser strolling slowly ahead of them. It was for a minute only, for near a turn in the path he bent forward and disappeared in a thicketof althea bushes. At this season it was not a dense thicket, and Mr. Knight, poking in the soft mould with his cane in search of a certaintiny plant, had no thought of hiding, but, as it chanced, was unobservedby his friends. 

"Oh, Margaret Elizabeth, " her companion was saying as they passed, "youare so dear! I have no business to be telling you so, but indeed I can'thelp it. "

And she with a little laugh replied: "I am glad you can't, Candy Man. "And the next moment they were gone around the turn. 

That was all, but it was enough. What rarer flower was likely to comethe Miser's way, on this or any day?

He stood and looked after them. These two had brought into his greylife the touch of golden youth. He began to tremble under the forceof a wonderful thought. He sought a bench and sank upon it. It wouldbe a solution of his problem. He had come out to-day into the springsunshine, feeling his burden more than he could bear, for in his pocketwas a letter which put an end to the hope he had long cherished of atlength righting a great wrong. 

There must be a way of doing what he wished. The consent of the CandyMan once gained, that hateful fortune, which through these years hadbeen slowly crushing him, might become a minister of joy and well being, might make possible for others those best things of life that he hadmissed. 

The thought thrilled him. He rose and walked on, back to the pavilion, where he paused again to rest. There on the step lay the shabby bookwith the funny name and the small oval bit cut from the fly leaf, beneath which was the Candy Man's name, Robert Deane Reynolds. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

_Shows how Mrs. Gerrard Pennington, unhappy and distraught, beseechesUncle Bob to help her save Margaret Elisabeth; also how Mr. GerrardPennington comes to the rescue, and how in the end his wife submitsgracefully to the inevitable, which is not so bad after all. _

When Mrs. Gerrard Pennington was shown into the room of the Little RedChimney, there was nobody there. A chilly wind outside, which dashedthe rain against the windows, only served to call attention to thepleasantness within. It was indeed an aggressively cheerful room, entirely out of keeping with Mrs. Pennington's mood. The open piano, the row of thrifty ferns on the window-sill, the new novel on the tablewith a foreign letter between its leaves, and the work basket besideit--which, by the way, was of sweet grass--all sang the same song tothe accompaniment of the fire's quiet crackle. 

The burden of the song was Margaret Elizabeth. You saw her sitting boltupright on the sofa, being very intense about something, or lost inthought, elbows on knees, on the ottoman beside the hearth, or occupiedwith that bit of embroidery, her curling lashes almost on her cheek. Oh, Margaret Elizabeth, how could you? How could you?

Mrs. Pennington, pacing uneasily back and forth, glanced at the music onthe piano rack. 

 "Oh, stay at home, my heart, and rest, Home-keeping hearts are happiest, "

it admonished her. In this disarming atmosphere she began to feelherself the victim of some wretched dream. Yet here in her bag wasMargaret Elizabeth's note, found awaiting her on her return from Chicagoan hour ago. 

In it her niece apologised contritely for the inexcusable manner inwhich she had spoken, and continued: "It makes me unhappy, dearestAunt Eleanor, to think of disappointing you, for you have been thekindest aunt in the world, but I have discovered in the last fewdays what I ought to have known all along, that I cannot marry Mr. McAllister. The reason is there is some one else. He is neither richnor of distinguished family, but there are things that count for more, at least to me. I shall see you very soon, and explain more fully. In the meantime think kindly, if you can, of your niece, MARGARET ELIZABETH. "

[Illustration: MRS. GERRARD PENNINGTON]

This as it stood was bad enough, wrecking her dearest hopes at themoment when they had seemed most secure; but taken in connection witha story related in artless innocence by her travelling companion ofyesterday, Teddy Brown, to use one of that gentleman's cherishedphrases, it spelled tragedy. 

The Reporter had not been bent on mischief. Far from it. He was merelygrappling bravely with the task of being agreeable to the great lady. Surely it was but natural that in the course of a long conversation theCandy Man's curious resemblance to Augustus should suggest itself as atopic; and given a gleam of something like interest in his companion'seyes, it was easy to continue from bad to worse. 

He lived in the same apartment house as Virginia, and from her hehad heard of the Christmas tree, and the Candy Man's presence on theoccasion; also of that old accident on the corner in which the CandyMan had figured as Miss Bentley's rescuer. No wonder those intuitionsregarding a person who was not Augustus should have risen to tortureMrs. Pennington. All this circumstantial evidence was very black againstMargaret Elizabeth, seemingly so honest and frank. No wonder Mrs. Pennington was distraught. 

Meanwhile, wherever her heart might be, Margaret Elizabeth herselfwas out. Uncle Bob, coming in, paper in hand, to greet the visitorcordially, could not imagine where she had gone, and peered around theroom as if after all she might have escaped their notice. If she wasn'tin, he was confident she would be, in the course of a few minutes, whichconfidence was not a logical deduction from known facts, but merely anuntrustworthy inference, born of his surprise at finding her out at all. 

Placing a chair for Mrs. Pennington, he took one himself and regardedher genially. Some minutes of polite conversation followed, in thecourse of which Mrs. Pennington, concealing her agitation, spoke of herjourney to Chicago in quest of colonial furnishings. Mr. Vandegrift inhis turn brought forward Florida and orange groves. 

But Margaret Elizabeth delayed her coming, and Mrs. Pennington couldstand it no longer. "Mr. Vandegrift, " she began, after the silence thatfollowed the last word on oranges, "I regret that my niece is not here, yet it may be as well to speak to you first. I may say, to make anappeal to you. You are, I am sure, fond of Margaret Elizabeth. " Sheplayed nervously with the fastening of her shopping bag. 

Uncle Bob looked at her in surprise, then at the toe of his shoe. "Ithink I may safely admit it, " he owned, crossing his knees and noddinghis head. 

"Then, Mr. Vandegrift, I beseech you, with all the feeling of which I amcapable, to unite with me in saving this misguided girl. " At this pointall her intuitions and fears rallied around Mrs. Pennington, and gave aquiver to her voice. 

Uncle Bob was astonished at her tone, and said so. 

"I assure you, Mr. Vandegrift, I have her own word for it. " She produceda note from her bag. 

"Her word for what?" he asked. 

"Why, for--oh, Mr. Vandegrift, let us not waste time in futile fencing. You must know that Margaret Elizabeth has deceived me; has been guiltyof base ingratitude; has been meeting clandestinely a person--a mereadventurer. I can scarcely bring myself to say it. My brother Richard'sdaughter!" Mrs. Pennington had recourse to her handkerchief. 

Uncle Bob uncrossed his knees and sat bolt upright. "Madame, " heexclaimed, "I am sorry for your distress, whatever its cause, but let meassure you, you are under some grave mistake. My niece has met no oneclandestinely, and is incapable of deceit and treachery. "

"Do I understand then that it was with your connivance?"

"I have connived at nothing, Madame, and I know of no adventurer. " UncleBob took his penknife from his pocket and tapped on the table with it. His manner was legal in the extreme. He was enjoying himself. 

Mrs. Pennington looked over her handkerchief. "But she says, herself----"

"Says she has been guilty of deceit and treachery? Has been meeting anadventurer clandestinely? Pardon me, but this is incredible. "

"What is incredible, Uncle Bob?" came a voice from the half-open door, unmistakably that of the accused. "I'll be there as soon as I get off myraincoat, " it added. 

"It is hopeless to try to make you understand, " Mrs. Pennington almostsobbed, the while sounds from the hall indicated that some one besideMargaret Elizabeth was removing a raincoat. A horrible dread suddenlysmote her, lest it be that person. A sleepless night and her distresshad unnerved her. She felt herself unequal to the encounter. 

She glanced about helplessly for a way of escape, but there was none. "Tell him not to come in. I cannot see him now, " she begged tragicallyof Uncle Bob, who, honestly mystified now, stood between her and thedoor, looking from it to her. 

"She says not to come in, " he repeated to Margaret Elizabeth'scompanion, who was following her in. 

"Why, Aunt Eleanor, I didn't know it was you! They told me your trainwas late. And oh, what is the matter? What are you crying about? Is itI?" Margaret Elizabeth, with raindrops on her hair, knelt beside heraunt and embraced her, pressing a cool cheek against that lady'sfevered one. 

Mrs. Pennington, her face hidden in her hands, continued to murmur, "Icannot see him. I cannot see him. "

"In the name of heaven, Eleanor, why can't you see me? Why must I notcome in?" demanded a familiar voice which brought her to with a shock. 

"Gerrard!" she cried, in her surprise revealing a sadly tear-stainedcountenance. 

Uncle Bob beat a retreat into the hall, where he paused, chuckling tohimself. 

"Certainly it is I. Who should it be?" said her husband, taking a seatbeside her. "Why are you making such a sight of yourself, my dear? WhenI telephoned out to know if you had arrived, they said you had and hadgone out again immediately, no one knew where. I came out to talk oversome business with William Knight, and when I was leaving I saw your carover here, and thought I'd join you; but if my presence is unbearable, I will withdraw. " Mr. Pennington smiled at Margaret Elizabeth. 

"Don't be silly, please, I have had a most trying day. I don't expectyou to understand. "

Mrs. Pennington was recovering her poise. There was somethingirresistibly steadying in her husband's matter-of-fact statement, and inthe sight of her niece sitting back on her heels and looking up at herwith lovely, solicitous eyes. Treachery and deceit became meaninglessterms in such connection. 

"You haven't given us a chance to understand, Eleanor. What is thetrouble?" Mr. Pennington demanded. 

"Uncle Gerry, I am afraid it is I, " said Margaret Elizabeth, picking upthe note from the floor where it had fallen. "I am sorry, you know I am, that I can't do as she wishes, but you understand that I can't. Tellher, please, that I did honestly try to think I could, but it wasn't ofany use. "

"Oh, come now, Eleanor, if that is it, of course we wanted MargaretElizabeth up at the Park; but the young people of this generation liketo manage their own affairs, as we did before them. " Mr. Penningtonlooked quizzically at his niece. "She's been getting up a bit ofmelodrama for our benefit, that's all. If you will pardon thesuggestion, my dear, I think possibly it is you who do not understand. "

Margaret Elizabeth, rising from her lowly position, threw him a kissover her aunt's head. 

"How can I be expected to, with everything shrouded in mystery?" criedMrs. Pennington. "Why have I never heard of this person before? Why wasI left to be told dreadful things by a reporter?"

"A reporter!" cried Margaret Elizabeth, in her turn aghast. 

"Nonsense! If you heard anything dreadful you know Margaret Elizabethwell enough to know it was not true. But how in the world could areporter have got hold of it?"

"You speak so confidently, Gerrard, tell me, what do you know about thisman?" Mrs. Pennington looked from her niece to her husband. "MargaretElizabeth seems to have completely won you to her side, " she added. 

"It is really a very strange story, Eleanor, and to begin at the end ofit, we have quite sufficient evidence, in my opinion, to prove that heis the son of my old comrade, Robert Waite. "

Mrs. Pennington fixed surprised eyes upon her husband. MargaretElizabeth sat down and folded her hands in her lap. 

"You recall how Rob disappeared, without a word to any of his friends?It was not till some years after the general's death that I had theleast clue to it; then William Knight came to me to know if I couldgive any help in tracing him. He owned that there had been some troublebetween General Waite and Robert, and that the latter had been unjustlytreated. I couldn't give him any assistance, and I never discussed itwith him again. Knight was always close-mouthed, and it was only theother day that I learned what the trouble was. It seems the generalsuspected his nephew of taking a large sum of money from the safe in hislibrary. It was one of those cases of complete circumstantial evidence. Rob was known to have lost money on the races. He was the only onebeside the general himself who had access to the safe, and who knew thatthis money, several thousand dollars, was there at this time. That is, so it was supposed. 

"Knowing them both, one can easily understand the outcome. Robertdisappeared, and a few years later, when the general died, he left hisfortune to William Knight, his wife's nephew. Then after some littletime the real thief turned up. I won't go into that, further than tosay that it was through a deathbed confession to a priest. Since thenKnight has been searching far and wide for some trace of Robert, onlyto receive last week the evidence of his death twenty-five years ago. And now comes the strange part of the story. The very day on whichhe received this news, Knight came by chance upon a book which herecognised as once the property of Robert Waite. The owner's name wascut from the fly leaf, but below it was written the name of a youngman whose acquaintance he had made last winter, Robert Deane Reynolds. Deane was Rob's middle name, so naturally it led to an investigation. "

Mr. Pennington looked over at Margaret Elizabeth. "Have I told astraight story?" he asked. 

"There were letters, you know, " she prompted. 

"Oh, yes. This young man had letters which I could have identifiedanywhere. "

Mrs. Pennington was interested. She asked questions. That absurd storyabout a Candy Wagon was untrue then? But how had Margaret Elizabeth metthis person? She still referred to him as a person. And somehow theunited efforts of Margaret Elizabeth and Mr. Pennington failed to clearup the mystery, though they did their best. 

Even if the Candy Wagon episode was to be regarded as humorous, thoughit did not present itself in that light to Mrs. Pennington, how couldMargaret Elizabeth have asked a Candy Man to her Christmas tree?

"But you see, by that time I knew he wasn't real, Aunt Eleanor, andanyway--"

"Now go slow, Margaret Elizabeth, " cautioned her uncle. "At heart youare a confounded little socialist, but take my advice and keep it toyourself. " He was thinking of what she had said to him only the daybefore: "You see, Uncle Gerry, you can't have everything. You haveto choose. And while I like bigness and richness, I like Little RedChimneys and what they stand for, best. I want to be on speaking termswith both ends, you see. "

"It is odd, " Mr. Pennington went on, "the tricks heredity plays, andthat this young man and Augustus McAllister should both hark back to acommon ancestor for their general characteristics of build and feature. I was struck with the resemblance, myself. "

"It was what first attracted me, " owned Margaret Elizabeth demurely. 

The name of Augustus still had painful associations for Mrs. Pennington. She rose. "Really we must be going, " she said. At some future time shefelt she might be able to meet Mr. Reynolds or Waite, or whatever hisname was, with equanimity, but now she was thankful to hear he had goneback to Chicago for some papers. 

She received Margaret Elizabeth's farewell embrace languidly. "Sincethere is such weight of authority in your favour, and matters havedeveloped so strangely, there is nothing for me to say. I dislikemystery, and prefer to have things go on regularly and according toprecedent. It is your welfare I have at heart. "

Mr. Pennington's good-by was different. 

"I don't wonder you like it down here, Margaret Elizabeth--this room, you know, " he said. 

As they drove homeward Mrs. Pennington was engaged in mentallyreconstructing affairs. "Of course, " she heard herself saying, "it wasa disappointment to me, but romantic girls are not to be controlled bycommon-sense aunts, and really it might be worse. " And she remarkedaloud: "The fact that he is a nephew of General Waite means something. "

"That's so, " assented her husband. "Something like half a million. Old Knight is determined to hand it all over. " He smiled to himself, then added: "He came to see me--the young man, I mean. I liked him. He suggested Rob a little without resembling him. Very gentlemanly;nice eyes. "

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

_In which the Fairy Godmother Society is again mentioned, among otherthings_. 

"But it is really embarrassing when I had made up my mind to marry apoor Candy Man to have it turn out so. I rather liked defying commonsense, " said Margaret Elizabeth. 

The Candy Man had made a hurried journey to Chicago, and was back beforethe rain was over, and while it was still cold enough for a fire, sothat his old dream of sometime sitting by the Little Red Chimney'shearth was coming true. Margaret Elizabeth in the blue dress, byrequest, though she declared it wasn't fit to be seen, occupied theottoman, her elbows on her knees, the firelight playing in her brighthair. 

"It is the way it happens in fairy-tales, " urged the Candy Man. "And Ireally couldn't help it. "

"Of course you are right, " she agreed. "As Virginia's story runs, 'Heturned into a prince, and because Violetta had been true to him throughthick and thin, he made her a princess. ' Anyhow, Candy Man, I'm glad Ichose you before your good fortune came. "

"It was an extremely venturesome thing to do, Girl of All Others, asI have told you before, though immensely flattering to me. I have totake the money, there is no way out of it. I believe it would break ourMiser's heart if I refused. Do you know what he was proposing to dobefore he found the book?"

"What?" asked Margaret Elizabeth. 

"To adopt me. You see we had come to be pretty good friends lastwinter, and I think he suspected from the start that I had rather loftyaspirations for a Candy Man. In a Little Red Chimney direction--youunderstand?"

"Perfectly--go on. "

"Well, he saw us in the park----"

"And his suspicions were confirmed, I suppose, " put in MargaretElizabeth, coolly. 

"Exactly. And knowing from what I had told him previously that I hadmy fortune to seek, it occurred to him that as the channel he had beenhoping for had been closed, the next best thing would be to make itpossible for two young persons to----"

"The dear old Miser!" interrupted Margaret Elizabeth. "But why is he sounwilling to use the money himself? It is honestly his. "

"I may not fully understand, but I think from things he has said, thatas a boy he was jealous of my father. This feeling would naturally makehim, when it came to the test, not unwilling to believe in his guilt. Then, being reticent and introspective, he magnified all this athousandfold when the truth came out, and he realised he had profited bythe unjust suspicion. By dwelling upon it he came to feel as if he hadactually obtained the money himself by unfair means. But I am convincedthat if he did encourage his uncle to believe in my father's guilt, itwas because he firmly believed it himself. Never since the facts wereknown has he regarded the money as his, and not until he had almostexhausted his own means in the effort to trace the rightful owner, ashe regarded him, did he use a penny of it. "

"It is so touching to see his surprise and gratitude that I do not feelresentful toward him, " added the Candy Man. "His joy at handing overthis fortune is wonderful. He already looks a different man. "

"We must make it up to him in some way, " said Margaret Elizabeth. "Imean for all these lonely years. Speaking of money, I'll tell you whatI have been thinking. When we build our house, as I suppose we shallsome day, when we come back from our search for the Archæologist----"

"By all means. That is one mitigating circumstance. We can build ahouse, " responded the Candy Man. 

"Well, as I was going to say, we must have a Little Red Chimney. Thehouse will be broad and low, " she extended her arms, "and with wings;I love wings. One of them shall have a Little Red Chimney all its own. It shall stand for our ideals. If we should be tempted to a sort of lifethat separates us from our fellows, it will remind us, you, that youonce sat in a Candy Wagon, me, that I fell in love with a Candy Man. AndI'll tell you what, speaking of the Miser. Don't you remember? It was heyou meant that day when we were talking about the Fairy GodmotherSociety, and----"

Of course the Candy Man remembered. 

"Then, let's organise and make him chief agent while we are gone. I knowof a number of things to be done. "

"So do I, " said the Candy Man. "There is my fellow lodger, the one Itold you about, a teacher in the High School. He needs a real changethis summer, he and his wife. "

"Oh, I am sure we can work it out, " cried Margaret Elizabeth. 

"I am sure we can, " he assented. 

"You see it will begin where organised charity leaves off, of necessity. Also where that can't possibly penetrate, and it will be singularlyfree, because secret. "

"Again you sound like the minutes of the first meeting, " said the CandyMan. 

"Margaret Elizabeth!"

It was Uncle Bob's voice at the door. "I hate to disturb you, but thatold bore at the club wants your father's address. "

"You aren't disturbing. Come in and hear about the Fairy GodmotherSociety. "

"You don't mean really?" Uncle Bob stood before the hearth and lookedfrom his niece to the Candy Man. 

"Indeed we do, " she answered. "You see we have ten times as much moneyas we thought we had. So why not?"

"Quite correct, as we thought we hadn't any, " murmured the Candy Man. 

Uncle Bob rubbed his hands in delight. "I told Prue you'd do somethingof the sort; that you wouldn't just settle down to be ordinary richpeople. But Prue says riches bring caution. "

Margaret Elizabeth, going to her desk for the address, laughed. "Wearen't going to forget our humble beginning, " she said; "and we'll actquickly before we are inured to our new estate. "

"But then, you know, there is another side to it, " her uncle interposed, in a sudden access of prudence. "You must consider the matter carefullywith an eye to the future. For instance now, there may be heirs. "

A silence fell. The fire crackled, and the clock ticked with unusualdistinctness. Then Margaret Elizabeth spoke. 

"Here's the address, " she said. "I'll put it in your pocket, where youcan't forget it. " And as she tucked it in, she added, stoutly, with alovely deepening of the colour in her cheek: "If there are, Uncle Bob, they will be fairy god-brothers and sisters, so it will be all right. "

It was after the door had closed upon Uncle Bob, and Margaret Elizabethwas back on her low seat again, that the Candy Man left his chair andsat on the rug beside her. "Girl of All Others, is there any one elsein the world as happy as I?" he asked. 

Margaret Elizabeth smiled at him with eyes that answered the questionbefore she spoke. Then she said, slipping her hand into his, "Oneother. "

THE END