CHAPTER NINE
_Shows how Miss Bentley and the Reporter take refuge in a cave, andhow in the course of the conversation which follows, she hears somethingwhich disposes her to feel more kindly toward the Candy Man; shows alsohow Uncle Bob proves faithless to his trust, and his niece finds herselflocked out in consequence._
"Let's pretend we are pursued by wild Indians and take refuge in thiscave."
The scene was one of those afternoon crushes which everybody attends andfew enjoy. Miss Bentley, struggling with an ice, which the state of theatmosphere rendered eminently desirable, and the density of the crowdmade indulgence in precarious, addressed her next neighbour, whom shehad catalogued as a nice, friendly boy. "It's Mr. Brown, isn't it?" sheadded in triumph at so easily associating the name with the face.
The young man's beaming countenance showed his delight. "Good for you,Miss Bentley! It would be great. Let me have your plate while yousqueeze in."
This corner behind a mass of greens seemed to have been left with theintention of protecting an elaborate cabinet that occupied a shallowrecess. However it might be, here was a refuge, difficult of access,but possible. Margaret Elizabeth held on to her hat and dived in.
"Grand!" she cried. "This is beyond my wildest hopes," and she perchedherself on a short step-ladder, left here no doubt by the decorators,and held out her hands for the plates. Mr. Brown found a more lowly seatbeneath a bay tree. They looked at each other and laughed.
"My position is a ticklish one, so to speak," he observed, vainly tryingto dodge the palm leaves to the right of him; "but I think we arereasonably safe from pursuit."
"I haven't the remotest idea where my aunt is," Margaret Elizabethremarked, eating her ice in serene unconcern.
"Say, Miss Bentley, I have heard my cousin speak of you--AugustusMcAllister, you know."
"Are you Mr. McAllister's cousin?" Miss Bentley's tone and smile leftit to be inferred that this fact above any other was a passport to herfavour. It must be regretfully recognised, however, that it would havebeen the same if Mr. Brown had mentioned the market-man.
Having thus successfully established his claim to notice, the Reporter,as was his custom, went on to explain that he belonged to the moneylessbranch of the family.
Margaret Elizabeth assured him, in a grandmotherly manner, that it wasmuch better for a young man to have his way to make in the world than tohave too much money.
The Reporter owned this seemed to be the consensus of opinion. How thestrange notion had gained such vogue he could not understand, but therewas no use kicking when you were up against it.
"Of course, it must be hard work, but it must be interesting. Don't youhave exciting experiences?" Miss Bentley asked.
Oh, he had, certainly, and met such queer people, too. There was afellow who ran a Candy Wagon on the Y.M.C.A. corner, for instance. "Youought to meet him, really, Miss Bentley, though, of course, you couldn'tvery well. He's a character, and I have puzzled my brains to discoverwhat he's doing it for."
Miss Bentley was interested and requested further enlightenment.
"Well, I have two theories in regard to him. He is an educated man, anda gentleman, so far as I can tell, and I think he is either studyingsome social problem, or he is a detective on some trail."
"I never thought----" began Margaret Elizabeth. "I mean," hastilycorrecting herself, "I should never have thought of such anexplanation."
"He's up to something, you may be sure," Mr. Brown continued. "I like totalk to him, and do, every chance I get."
Margaret Elizabeth certainly showed a flattering interest in all theReporter had to say. "Some day when you have become a great editor," sheassured him at parting, "I shall refer proudly to the afternoon when wesat together in a cave and ate ice cream."
"Oh, now, Miss Bentley," the Reporter protested in some embarrassment,"I'm sure I shall always think of it with pride, whatever I get to be,though that probably won't be much."
This conversation was not without its influence upon Miss Bentley'ssubsequent attitude toward the Candy Man. That some one else had foundhim a unique and interesting personality was reassuring, and thethought that he might be engaged on some secret mission was novel andsuggestive. She began to reconsider and readjust, and in future,although she still avoided the Y.M.C.A. corner, she allowed her thoughtsto turn once in a while in that direction.
Meanwhile she paid two more visits to the Miser's library, on theseoccasions laying deliberate siege to his reserve with all the charm ofher bright friendliness. She asked questions about his beloved prints;intelligent questions, for Margaret Elizabeth had grown up in anatmosphere of appreciation for things rare and fine. She chatted abouther father and his work, and even ventured some wise advice about freshair and its tonic effect. Indeed, it is a cause for wonder that she wasable at the same time to collect the material which took shape later inthat most erudite paper.
Under this invasion of youth and gaiety, the sombre, student atmospherebecame charged with a new, electric current. It was not owing solely toMiss Bentley, however, for Sunday evening now frequently found the CandyMan dropping in sociably to chat with Mr. Knight in his library.
In these days the Miser often sat leaning his head on his hand, ameditative, half whimsical expression on his face, as if he found bothwonder and amusement in the chance that had so strangely brought theseyoung people across his threshold.
One Sunday afternoon the Pennington motor, having deposited MargaretElizabeth at the Vandegrift gate, with a scornful snort went on itsswift way to more select regions. It was the first really cold weatherof the season, and while she waited at the door Margaret Elizabethexamined the thermometer, and then buried her nose in her muff."Dear me!" she exclaimed impatiently. "Why doesn't somebody come?"
She rang again with no uncertain touch upon the button this time, andthen, crunching across the frozen grass, peeped in at her own window,where a glimpse of smouldering fire rewarded her. She returned to thedoor to ring and rap, still with no response.
This was a most unusual state of affairs, for it was an inexorabledecree of Dr. Prue's that the telephone must never be left alone.Somebody must have gone to sleep. The cold and the darkness deepened andit became more and more evident that she was locked out. What shouldshe do? After canvassing the situation thoroughly, she could think ofnothing for it but to seek refuge with the Miser. Her acquaintance inthe neighbourhood was limited. Miss Kitty the dressmaker had gone tovespers, and her cottage was dark. The apartment house was too far away.From the Miser's library she could watch for the light which wouldbetoken the waking up of the delinquent one. So across the street, hernose in her muff, ran Margaret Elizabeth.
The little housekeeper, Mrs. Sampson, who opened the door, was allsolicitude. Such a cold evening to be locked out! She knew Mr. Knightwould be glad to have her wait in the library. He had stepped out fora 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 itshould be.
It was, for the Candy Man had just given it a vigorous poking and put onfresh coal. The room was full of its pleasant light.
Mrs. Sampson was surprised to find him there. "Miss Bentley, this isMr. Reynolds, a friend of Mr. Knight's," she explained, adding that MissBentley was locked out, and wished to sit by the window and watch forher uncle to come back. "And if you'll excuse me, Miss Bentley, the cookhas her Sunday evenings out, and I get supper myself," she added as shewithdrew.
Margaret Elizabeth and the Candy Man faced each other in silence for asecond or two, then she said, very gravely indeed, "I am glad to meetyou, 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 distancefrom the fire, but as she sat down Margaret Elizabeth loosened her fursas if she felt its heat.
The Candy Man waited, uncertain what course he should pursue.
"Please sit down, Mr. Reynolds. I should like to tal
k to you, now theopportunity has so unexpectedly offered." She regarded him stillseriously, her hands clasped within her large muff. "I think you owe mean explanation."
"I am not sure I understand." The Candy Man's heart was beating in anabsurd and disconcerting way, but he would keep his head and follow herlead.
"Of course you are aware that you allowed me to talk to you that morningin 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--itwas preposterous--but I hoped you--don't you see?--didn't mind talkingto an unknown Candy Man."
"Oh! was that it?" exclaimed Margaret Elizabeth in a tone difficult tointerpret. Did she think it preposterous, or not? It seemed to indicateshe found something preposterous. "Then you were disappointed in me,"she added.
Never would the Candy Man admit such a thing. He had realised since thenwhat a cad he must have seemed, but----
"That, however, is neither here nor there," she continued, "since I didnot recognise you. It was----"
"Preposterous?" he suggested.
"Yes, preposterous, to suppose that I could. Why, it was nearly darkthat 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 pass, I mean."
Again Miss Bentley said "Oh!" adding: "You are also the person wholaughed 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. Yourresemblance to Mr. McAllister is remarkable."
"So I have been told." The Candy Man shrugged his shoulders, ever solittle.
"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 smilecurled her lips, "and I think you owe it to me to tell me why you becamea Candy Man."
"In return for the Fairy Godmother idea?" he asked mischievously.
Miss Bentley's brows drew together. "If you knew how bitterly I haveregretted 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 notlaughing. I could not. If you only knew what it all meant to me. HowI----"
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 inreturn for the Fairy Godmother 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 througha bad accident that occurred at my home near Chicago--a runaway.Speaking of grey matter, there was some doubt for a time whether minewas not permanently injured. However, I gradually recovered, but I wasstill 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 whenyou are longing to get to work is no easy job. I left home with theintention of going South, and stopped off here for no particular reason.Perhaps I should have said that I have no family. My father diedsomething over a year ago. Oddly enough, in front of the station hereI met an Irish woman, once a servant in my father's house. She wasoverjoyed to see me, and poured out her troubles. Her son, who ran acandy wagon, had been taken ill with fever, and his employers would notpromise 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 howthe idea occurred to me. To amuse myself and keep the boy's place. Andhaving no family or friends to be disgraced----"
"No one has intimated there was any disgrace about it," Miss Bentleyinterrupted. "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 wasin need of some occupation, and I assure you it has been very much ofa 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 thatmade me a Candy Man I should have missed a great deal--for one thing, arealisation of the opportunity that awaits the Fairy Godmother Society."
"But Tim will soon be about again," said Margaret Elizabeth.
"Then I must look out for another job; but your remark implies somefurther knowledge of Tim. I was not aware I had mentioned his nameeven."
Miss Bentley bit her lip, then decided to smile frankly. "I met Timthe 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 ofpraises 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 redrose, and----"
Margaret Elizabeth laughed. There was no getting ahead of this CandyMan. Had he known all along, or had he just guessed? "I see a light atlast," she said, rising. "I must go, or they will be wondering what hasbecome of me." ...
"Yes, I know it was my afternoon in," said Uncle Bob plaintively, whileMargaret 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 thereand I got to talking."
"It is quite unnecessary to explain, but I do wish, father, you wouldrefrain from speaking as if you were required to stay in. It was yourown proposition to let Nancy go. I could have made other arrangements."Dr. Prue was aggrieved. There was no telling how many telephone callshad been unanswered.
Margaret Elizabeth laughed. "You are absolutely untrustworthy, UncleBob. Hereafter I shall carry a latch key."
"By the way, who was that young man who brought you home?" the doctorasked.
"His name is Reynolds. He is a stranger here. I have met him once ortwice." This casual explanation was accompanied by side glances whichindicated to Uncle Bob that there was more in it than appeared on thesurface.
Margaret Elizabeth had been extremely reserved upon the subject of theCandy Man. Uncle Bob had not heard a word of it till now, when, besidethe Little Red Chimney hearth, supper having been cleared away, and Dr.Prue resting with a book on the office lounge, she told him the wholestory.
"You don't say so! That beats anything I ever heard. Well, I said itwould come out all right, didn't I?" Margaret Elizabeth's narrative waspunctured, as Mrs. Partington would have said, with many exclamationssuch as these.
"I own you were right. It isn't as bad as it seemed. He is really verygentlemanly and nice. Still, it is a bit awkward too," she addedthoughtfully.
It is possible she was thinking of Mrs. Gerrard Pennington at themoment.
The Little Red Chimney: Being the Love Story of a Candy Man Page 10
