g about me?"

"He isn't Irish like Tim," Virginia hastened to assure her. "He's very
nice. He's a friend of mine."

Margaret Elizabeth laughed. "That makes it all right, I suppose; and if
he picked me up--But who is the Miser?"

"He lives over there," Virginia pointed toward the front window, "in
that stone house with the vine on it. Aleck says he has rooms and rooms
full of money."

The house she indicated was almost black with time and soot, but its
fine proportions suggested spacious, high-ceiled rooms, and whatever its
present condition, a past of dignity and importance.

"How extremely interesting! What a remarkable neighbourhood this seems
to be!"

"Is it like a fairy-tale where you stay when you aren't here?" Virginia
asked.

Sudden illumination came to Margaret Elizabeth. "That is just what it
isn't," she cried. "It's splendid and beautiful, and all sorts of
things, except a fairy-tale. I wonder why? I love fairy-tales and Little
Red Chimneys."

"So does the Candy Man," exclaimed Virginia, charmed at the coincidence.
"It must be fun to be a Candy Man," she continued. "It isn't much like
a fairy-tale where I live. I should like to live in a sure-enough house
with stairs."

"You talk like a squirrel who lives in a tree. And speaking of squirrels,
you and I must buy some nuts for our bunny sometime, from this Candy
Man. If he picked me up I suppose I ought to patronise him. All the
same, Virginia," and now Miss Bentley spoke with great seriousness,
"I wish you not to say anything about me to him. It is rather silly,
you know."

Virginia did not know, but she longed to do in every particular what
Miss Bentley desired, so she promised.

The opal lights in the western sky were the only reminders left of the
sunny day, when Uncle Bob, seated comfortably in the big armchair,
listened to Margaret Elizabeth's confession, the flames dancing and
curling around a fresh log meanwhile. In size it was but a modest log,
for the fireplace was neither wide nor deep like those at Pennington
Park, but the Little Red Chimney did its part so merrily and well that
upon no other hearth could the flames dance and curl so gaily. At least
so it had seemed to Margaret Elizabeth, sitting there chin in hand,
after Virginia's departure.

"And you are certain you never met him before?" Uncle Bob ran his
fingers through his hair and frowned thoughtfully.

"Perfectly certain. You see the resemblance was remarkable, all but
the