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

The first half of the scene went off perfectly. The Candy Man was
selling taffy to a nurse-maid when they approached, and if he saw who
was coming, and if his heart was in his mouth, and if he felt a wild
longing to escape from the Candy Wagon, he gave no sign. To Margaret
Elizabeth, 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 good
afternoon, Virginia advanced, a silver quarter in her palm, and demanded
chestnuts for the squirrel. The bag was filled and held out to her, and
as 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 the
glance of Miss Bentley, who immediately forgot all she had intended to
say, for these were the eyes that were not the eyes of Augustus. There
was no excuse for arguing the question. She knew it.