of the public purse did not warrant this, the curbstone and the wares
of the Candy Wagon were cheerfully substituted. By virtue no doubt of
her long legs and masterful spirit, Virginia ruled the flock. Under her
guidance they made existence a weariness to the several janitors on
the block.

As in defiance of law and order they circled one day on their roller
skates, 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 to
talk to the Candy Man."

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

[Illustration: VIRGINIA]

"You don't look much like Tim," she volunteered, dangling her legs from
the carriage block. Her hair was dark and severely bobbed; her miniature
nose 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 disjointed
character. Unless you had great power of concentration you forgot in the
intervals what you had been talking about. When a group of High School
boys had been served and had gone their hilarious way Virginia began