The Little Red Chimney: Being the Love Story of a Candy Man

by Mary Finley Leonard

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  _Which shows Miss Bentley recovering from a fit of what Uncle Bobcalls Cantankerousness; in which a shipwrecked letter is brought tolight, and Dr. Prue is called again to visit the child of the ParkSuperintendent._

  "And he turned into a splendid prince (he had been one all the timereally, you know), and he laid all his riches at Violetta's feet, andmade her a princess, because she had been true to him through thick andthin."

  Virginia's voice rose in triumphant climax.

  "That's all very fine in a fairy-tale, Virginia, and it is an extremelygood one for a little girl like you to make up out of her own head. Butyou know in real life it is different." Margaret Elizabeth gazedpensively into the fire.

  Virginia, prone upon the hearth-rug, was disposed to argue what she didnot understand. "How different?"

  "Well, in a fairy-tale you can have things as you want them, but inreal life you get tangled up in what other people want, and with dutyand common sense; and when you determine to follow your--" MargaretElizabeth was going to say "heart," but changed to "intuitions," "youare left high and dry on a desert island."

  Virginia was to be excused if she failed to make head or tail of this."I wish the Candy Man would come back," she remarked irrelevantly. "Hewas much nicer than Tim. He liked fairy-tales. He said he was comingsome time."

  "Oh, did he?" said Miss Bentley.

  The reference to a desert island, and a disposition to quarrel withfairy-tales, go to show that while she was decidedly more like herselfthan in the last chapter, her recovery was not yet complete. In factMargaret Elizabeth was suffering from the irritability that so oftenaccompanies convalescence. Cantankerousness was Uncle Bob's word for it,and he defended it with all the eloquence of which he was master, hisfinger on the page in the dictionary where it was to be found in goodand regular standing.

  It really did not matter what you called it; the point was, that in anargument with her aunt, Margaret Elizabeth had gone further than sheintended; had said what had better have been left unsaid. This sheconfessed to Dr. Prue.

  "Let me see your tongue," commanded that professional lady, regardingher searchingly.

  Margaret Elizabeth displayed the unruly member, laughing as she did so.

  "What did you say to Mrs. Pennington?"

  "We were speaking," Margaret Elizabeth answered meekly, "of gratitude,and Aunt Eleanor said, as you are always hearing people say, that thereis little or none of it in the world. You see, in some matter which cameup in the Colonial Dames, Nancy Lane sided against her. 'And after allI've done for her!' cried Aunt Eleanor. I said I thought gratitude wasan overrated virtue anyway, and that to expect a person to vote your waybecause you had been good to her, was a kind of graft."

  "Humph!" said Dr. Prue.

  "I know it was a dreadful, dreadful thing to say." Tears were inMargaret Elizabeth's eyes. "When she has been loveliness itself to me.There it is, you see. I have thought about it, and thought about it,until I'm all mixed up."

  "What did your aunt say?"

  "She was very dignified. She had not expected to hear such a thing fromme. Then she walked away."

  "I hope you asked her pardon."

  "I had no chance. She has gone to Chicago--was on her way to the stationthen. I will, of course."

  "For a young thing your ideas are not bad, though your problem isentangled in foolish convention, personal pride and so on. But neitheryou nor I was born to set the world right. Now cheer up and think nomore about it for the present. Be ready at two o'clock to go to the parkwith me. The superintendent's child is ill again."

  Having delivered her prescription, Dr. Prue left, and her patientreturned to her hearth-stone and an endeavour to be honest withherself. Virginia had interrupted this most difficult process with herfairy-tale. While it could not be said to bear upon the situation, aftershe had left Margaret Elizabeth was conscious of a faint lightening ofthe fog.

  As they sped smoothly toward the park, in the new electric, MargaretElizabeth driving, Dr. Prue exclaimed, "There, I'm forgetting thatletter again." Unfastening her bag she held it open while she continued,"I hope you'll forgive whoever is to blame, but when the hall was beingcleaned yesterday, James fished this out of the umbrella jar. Dear knowshow it got there or when; it looks as if it had been in a shipwreck."She produced a stained and sorry-looking missive from her bag. "You canjust make out the address, the postmark is quite gone," she added,laying it in her companion's lap. "You haven't missed an importantletter, have you?"

  "Not that I know of," Margaret Elizabeth replied with a laugh that wasa bit unsteady. "It is probably nothing of value." She kept her gaze onthe road ahead. "Just slip it in my pocket, please."

  All the rest of the way to the park her heart thumped uncomfortably.Could it be? Of course not, it was an advertisement. Why get excited?Meanwhile she chatted pleasantly with Dr. Prue.

  "All you need is fresh air and a simple life for a while. Your colourhas come back wonderfully," the doctor remarked as they drew up at thecottage gate. "Will you wait for me here?"

  "If you don't mind, I think I'll go into the park, and if I'm not backby the time you are ready, don't wait. I can take the street car."

  Turning in at the entrance to the park, Margaret Elizabeth was for afleeting moment aware of a Candy Wagon standing at the curb a few yardsaway. There was nothing unusual in this except the odd way in which itfitted into the situation, and the next moment she had forgotteneverything but the letter in her hand.

  She walked slowly down the path. The April sunshine sifted through afaint and feathery greenness overhead, the air was clear and fresh. Shewas thinking that she had seen just one little scrap of the Candy Man'swriting--on the card accompanying the Christmas basket; and this on theletter was blurred and stained, yet she was sure of it. He had written.She had been sure he would. She was glad. She would be honest withherself. She wanted him for a friend. In many ways she liked him betterthan any one she had met this winter. She wanted to know more about him.

  She tried to tear the letter open, but for all it was so damaged thepaper had remained tough. She would wait to read it till she reached thesummer house. That little vine-hung arbour had been in her thought eversince Dr. Prue proposed to bring her down to the park. She had a foolishdesire to sit there and look at the river, and go on being honest withherself.

  Margaret Elizabeth, mounting the steps and looking at her letter as shedid so, was confronted by somebody who started up in surprise from thebench where she had sat with her flowers that autumn day.

  For one surprised moment she and the stranger faced each other, thenMiss Bentley exclaimed, "I saw the wagon at the gate, but I didn't knowit was yours." And then the mischief faded into simple honest gladnessas she held out her hand. "I certainly did not expect to see you," sheadded, "but you are an unexpected sort of person."

  "Nothing so wonderful as the chance of meeting you occurred to me for amoment," the Candy Man assured her. "In fact I was not certain you caredto see me." Those same pleasant eyes, so emphatically not the eyes ofAugustus, looked into hers questioningly.

  Margaret Elizabeth held up the letter. "It was shipwrecked," she said."I got it only a few minutes ago. I haven't read it. I thought it wasyou who didn't care to be friends."

  The Candy Man did not exactly understand how a letter could beshipwrecked in an overland journey of ten hours, but he dismissed it asof no importance. "It isn't worth reading now," he said. "It was justto make my adieus and ask if some time when I had lived down my past,"here he smiled, "I might come back and tell you my strange story. I wascounting on your willingness to be friends. You remember you said itwould do no harm to hope."

  "Oh, did I? And when you did not hear from me, what did you think?Honestly," asked Margaret Elizabeth.

  "I thought of course there must be a reason. A shipwreck did not occurto me."

  "Do you mean a reason for not being friends? But you came."

  "The suspense was too much for me. I haven't man
y friends; and besides,this is on the way to Texas."

  "So you are going to Texas this time?"

  It seemed the Candy Man had heard of an opening there.

  Margaret Elizabeth wanted to ask why he had come to the park, butsomething told her not to; instead she said, looking away to the shiningriver, "I know of no reason why we should not be friends. So I am readyto hear the story you speak of. Is it more strange than the adventuresof a Candy Wagon?" Her eyes came back and met his as they had done theday when the conversation turned upon fairy godmothers. MargaretElizabeth was not spoiled.

  "It is more serious," was his reply. "In fact, it is very serious.The Candy Wagon was a mere episode. What I wish to tell you now goesdeeper."