Neither did it strike him as incongruous that he should have seen her first in the grocery kept by Mr. Simms, who catered to the needs of such as got their own breakfasts, and whose boiled ham was becoming famous, because it was really done.  He went back to the experience, dwelling with pleasure upon each detail of it, even his annoyance at the grocer’s daughter, who exchanged crochet patterns with the tailor’s wife, after the manner of a French exercise, and ignored him.  It was early and business had not yet begun on the Y.M.C.A. corner; still he could not wait forever.  The grocer himself, who was attending to the wants of a lean and hungry-looking student, had just handed his rolls and smoked sausage across the counter, with a cheery “Breakfast is ready, ring the bell,” when the door opened and the Girl of All Others came in.

She was tallish, but not very tall, and somewhat slight.  She wore a grey suit—­the same which had suffered this afternoon from contact with the street, and a soft felt hat of the same colour jammed down anyhow on her bright hair and pinned with a pinkish quill—­or so it looked.  The face beneath the bright hair was——­ But at this point in his recollections the Candy Man all but lost himself in a maze of adjectives and adverbs.  We know, at least, how the long-legged child ran to help, and finally went off hand in hand with her, and what the Miser said of her, and after all the best the Candy Man could do was to go back to the Reporter’s phrase.

He had withdrawn a little behind a stack of breakfast foods where he could watch her, wondering that the clerks did not drop their several customers without ceremony and fly to do her bidding.  She stood beside the counter and made overtures to a large Maltese cat who reposed there in solemn majesty.  Beside the Maltese rose a pyramid of canned goods, and a placard announced, “Of interest to light house keepers.”  Upon this her eyes rested in evident surprise.  “I didn’t know there were any lighthouses in this part of the country,” she said half aloud.

[Illustration:  MARGARET ELIZABETH]

The Maltese laid a protesting paw upon her arm.  It was not, however, the absurdity of her remark, but the cessation of her caresses he protested against.  At the same moment her eyes met those of the Candy Man, across the stack of breakfast foods.  His were laughing, and hers were instantly withdrawn.  He saw her colour mounting as she exclaimed, addressing the cat, “How perfectly idiotic!”

He longed to assure her it was a perfectly natural mistake, the placard being but an amateurish affair; but he lacked the courage.

And then the grocer, having disposed of another customer, advanced to serve her, and the grocer’s daughter, it seemed, was also at leisure; and though he would have preferred to watch the Girl of All Others doing the family marketing in a most competent manner, a thoughtful finger upon her lip, the Candy Man was forced to attend to his own business.  In selecting a basket of grapes and ordering them sent to St. Mary’s Hospital, he presently lost sight of her.