there was something the name fitted. Margaret Elizabeth! He loved it
already.

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 been
so, except for some subtle fairy godmother suggestion? The picture of
Margaret Elizabeth and Uncle Bob eating cherry preserves was a pleasant
one. It brought her nearer. The Candy Man was inclined to like Uncle
Bob, to think of him as a broad-minded person whose prejudices against
Candy Men, granting he had them, might in time be overcome.

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

The Miser was evidently surprised, but responded courteously, and
recalling the accident of two weeks ago, asked if the Candy Man had
heard anything of the injured chauffeur.

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

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

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

A smile slowly dawned on the face of the sad man, but quickly faded, as