against it. 

 "Of course, it must be hard work, but it must be interesting. Don't you have exciting experiences?" Miss Bentley asked. 

 Oh, he had, certainly, and met such queer people, too. There was a fellow who ran a Candy Wagon on the Y.M.C.A. corner, for instance. "You ought to meet him, really, Miss Bentley, though, of course, you couldn't very well. He's a character, and I have puzzled my brains to discover what 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, and a gentleman, so far as I can tell, and I think he is either studying some social problem, or he is a detective on some trail." 

 "I never thought——" began Margaret Elizabeth. "I mean," hastily correcting herself, "I should never have thought of such an explanation." 

 "He's up to something, you may be sure," Mr. Brown continued. "I like to talk to him, and do, every chance I get." 

 Margaret Elizabeth certainly showed a flattering interest in all the Reporter had to say. "Some day when you have become a great editor," she assured him at parting, "I shall refer proudly to the afternoon when we sat 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's subsequent attitude toward the Candy Man. That some one else had found him a unique and interesting personality was reassuring, and the thought that he might be engaged on some secret mission was novel and suggestive. She began to reconsider and readjust, and in future, although she still avoided the Y.M.C.A. corner, she allowed her thoughts to turn once in a while in that direction. 

 Meanwhile she paid two more visits to the Miser's library, on these occasions laying deliberate siege to his reserve with all the charm of her bright friendliness. She asked questions about his beloved prints; intelligent questions, for Margaret Elizabeth had grown up in an atmosphere of appreciation for things rare and fine. She chatted about her father and his work, and even ventured some wise advice about fresh air and its tonic effect. Indeed, it 

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