s, then crashing into a telegraph pole on the opposite side of
the street. What he did see was the frightened rush of the crowd to the
sidewalk, and in the rush, a girl, just stepping from the car, caught
and carried forward and jostled in such a manner that she lost her
footing and fell almost beneath the wheels of the Candy Wagon, and
dangerously near the hoofs of a huge draught horse, brought by its
driver to a halt in the nick of time.

The Candy Man was out and at her side in an instant, assisting her
to rise. The panic swept past them, leaving only a long-legged child
in a red tam, and a sad-faced elderly man in its wake. The Candy Man
had seen all three before. The wearer of the red tam was one of the
apartment-house children, the sad man was popularly known to the
neighbourhood as the Miser, and the girl, to whose assistance he had
sprung--well, he had seen her on two previous occasions.

As she stood in some bewilderment looking ruefully at the mud on her
gloves and skirt, the merest glance showed her to be the sort of girl
any one might have been glad to help.

"Thank you, I am not hurt--only rather shaken," she said in answer to
the Candy Man.

"Here's your bag," announced the long-legged child, fishing it out of
the soggy mass of leaves beneath the wagon. "And you need not worry
about your skirt. Take it to Bauer's just round the corner; they'll
clean it," she added.

The owner of the bag received it and the accompanying advice with an
adorable smile in which there was merriment as well as appreciation.
The Miser plucked the Candy Man by the sleeve and asked if the young
lady did not wish a cab.

She answered for herself. "Thank you, no; I am quite all right--only
muddy. But was it a bad accident? What happened?"

The Miser crossed the street where the crowd had gathered, to
investigate, and returning reported the chauffeur probably done for.
While he was gone the conductor of the street car appeared in quest of
the names and addresses of everybody within a radius of ten blocks. In
this way the Candy Man learned that her name was Bentley. She gave it
reluctantly, as persons do on such occasions, and he failed to catch
her street and number.

"I'm very sorry! I suppose there is nothing one can do?" she exclaimed,
apropos of the chauffeur, and the next the Candy Man knew she was
walking away in the mist hand in hand with the long-legged child.

"An unusually charming face," the Miser remarked, raisi