The Little Red Chimney Part 9

She rang again with no uncertain touch upon the b.u.t.ton this time, and then, crunching across the frozen gra.s.s, peeped in at her own window, where a glimpse of smouldering fire rewarded her. She returned to the door to ring and rap, still with no response.

This was a most unusual state of affairs, for it was an inexorable decree of Dr. Prue's that the telephone must never be left alone.

Somebody must have gone to sleep. The cold and the darkness deepened and it became more and more evident that she was locked out. What should she do? After canva.s.sing the situation thoroughly, she could think of nothing for it but to seek refuge with the Miser. Her acquaintance in the neighbourhood was limited. Miss Kitty the dressmaker had gone to vespers, and her cottage was dark. The apartment house was too far away.

From the Miser's library she could watch for the light which would betoken the waking up of the delinquent one. So across the street, her nose in her m.u.f.f, ran Margaret Elizabeth.

The little housekeeper, Mrs. Sampson, who opened the door, was all solicitude. Such a cold evening to be locked out! She knew Mr. Knight would be glad to have her wait in the library. He had stepped out for a 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 it should be.

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

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

Margaret Elizabeth and the Candy Man faced each other in silence for a second or two, then she said, very gravely indeed, "I am glad to meet you, 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 distance from the fire, but as she sat down Margaret Elizabeth loosened her furs as 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 the opportunity has so unexpectedly offered." She regarded him still seriously, her hands clasped within her large m.u.f.f. "I think you owe me an explanation."

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

"Of course you are aware that you allowed me to talk to you that morning in 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--it was preposterous--but I hoped you--don't you see?--didn't mind talking to an unknown Candy Man."

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

she added.

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

"That, however, is neither here nor there," she continued, "since I did not recognise you. It was----"

"Preposterous?" he suggested.

"Yes, preposterous, to suppose that I could. Why, it was nearly dark that 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 pa.s.s, I mean."

Again Miss Bentley said "Oh!" adding: "You are also the person who laughed 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. Your resemblance to Mr. McAllister is remarkable."

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

"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 smile curled her lips, "and I think you owe it to me to tell me why you became a Candy Man."

"In return for the Fairy G.o.dmother idea?" he asked mischievously.

Miss Bentley's brows drew together. "If you knew how bitterly I have regretted 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 not laughing. I could not. If you only knew what it all meant to me. How I----"

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 in return for the Fairy G.o.dmother 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 through a bad accident that occurred at my home near Chicago--a runaway.

Speaking of grey matter, there was some doubt for a time whether mine was not permanently injured. However, I gradually recovered, but I was still 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 when you are longing to get to work is no easy job. I left home with the intention of going South, and stopped off here for no particular reason.

Perhaps I should have said that I have no family. My father died something over a year ago. Oddly enough, in front of the station here I met an Irish woman, once a servant in my father's house. She was overjoyed to see me, and poured out her troubles. Her son, who ran a candy wagon, had been taken ill with fever, and his employers would not promise 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 how the idea occurred to me. To amuse myself and keep the boy's place. And having no family or friends to be disgraced----"

"No one has intimated there was any disgrace about it," Miss Bentley interrupted. "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 was in need of some occupation, and I a.s.sure you it has been very much of a 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 that made me a Candy Man I should have missed a great deal--for one thing, a realisation of the opportunity that awaits the Fairy G.o.dmother Society."

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

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

Miss Bentley bit her lip, then decided to smile frankly. "I met Tim the 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 of praises 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 red rose, and----"

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

"Yes, I know it was my afternoon in," said Uncle Bob plaintively, while Margaret 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 there and I got to talking."

"It is quite unnecessary to explain, but I do wish, father, you would refrain from speaking as if you were required to stay in. It was your own proposition to let Nancy go. I could have made other arrangements."