allowed him a glimpse of a blazing fire, and while he lingered a shadow
flitted across the curtain in its direction, and then another, until in
his mind's eye he beheld Margaret Elizabeth and Uncle Bob seated beside
the hearth. For aught he knew, it might be Augustus McAllister making
an evening call, but the Candy Man was just then too determinedly
optimistic to harbour such an idea.

[Illustration: THE MISER]

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

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

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

The Candy Man showed himself to be, when occasion demanded, a masterful
person. Without arguing the point, he supported the Miser with a firm
arm and began to urge him in the direction of his home. Mr. Knight, half
fainting as he was, submitted without a word until his door was reached;