“The dear old Miser!” interrupted Margaret Elizabeth.  “But why is he so unwilling to use the money himself?  It is honestly his.”

“I may not fully understand, but I think from things he has said, that as a boy he was jealous of my father.  This feeling would naturally make him, when it came to the test, not unwilling to believe in his guilt.  Then, being reticent and introspective, he magnified all this a thousandfold when the truth came out, and he realised he had profited by the unjust suspicion.  By dwelling upon it he came to feel as if he had actually obtained the money himself by unfair means.  But I am convinced that if he did encourage his uncle to believe in my father’s guilt, it was because he firmly believed it himself.  Never since the facts were known has he regarded the money as his, and not until he had almost exhausted his own means in the effort to trace the rightful owner, as he regarded him, did he use a penny of it.”

“It is so touching to see his surprise and gratitude that I do not feel resentful toward him,” added the Candy Man.  “His joy at handing over this fortune is wonderful.  He already looks a different man.”

“We must make it up to him in some way,” said Margaret Elizabeth.  “I mean for all these lonely years.  Speaking of money, I’ll tell you what I have been thinking.  When we build our house, as I suppose we shall some day, when we come back from our search for the Archaeologist——­”

“By all means.  That is one mitigating circumstance.  We can build a house,” responded the Candy Man.

“Well, as I was going to say, we must have a Little Red Chimney.  The house will be broad and low,” she extended her arms, “and with wings; I love wings.  One of them shall have a Little Red Chimney all its own.  It shall stand for our ideals.  If we should be tempted to a sort of life that separates us from our fellows, it will remind us, you, that you once sat in a Candy Wagon, me, that I fell in love with a Candy Man.  And I’ll tell you what, speaking of the Miser.  Don’t you remember?  It was he you meant that day when we were talking about the Fairy Godmother Society, and——­”

Of course the Candy Man remembered.

“Then, let’s organise and make him chief agent while we are gone.  I know of a number of things to be done.”

“So do I,” said the Candy Man.  “There is my fellow lodger, the one I told you about, a teacher in the High School.  He needs a real change this summer, he and his wife.”

“Oh, I am sure we can work it out,” cried Margaret Elizabeth.

“I am sure we can,” he assented.

“You see it will begin where organised charity leaves off, of necessity.  Also where that can’t possibly penetrate, and it will be singularly free, because secret.”

“Again you sound like the minutes of the first meeting,” said the Candy Man.

“Margaret Elizabeth!”

It was Uncle Bob’s voice at the door.  “I hate to disturb you, but that old bore at the club wants your father’s address.”