had been washed. The window was empty, and he waited under it with his nose upward, like a hound hoping for a bone.

Mademoiselle came, with Sidonie, carrying her load of hair. She looked at the candy man and smiled, a slow smile that faded away into ennui. Instantly she knew that the game was bagged; and so quickly she wearied of the chase. She began to talk to Sidonie.

“Been a fine day,” said the candy man hollowly. “First time in a month I’ve felt first-class. Hit it up down old Madison, hollering out like I useter. Think it’ll rain to-morrow?”

Mademoiselle laid two round arms on the cushion on the window-sill, and a dimpled chin upon them.

“Candy man,” said she softly, “do you not love me?”

The candy man stood up and leaned against the brick wall.

“Lady,” said he chokingly, “I’ve got $800 saved up. Did I say you wasn’t beautiful? Take it, every bit of it, and buy a collar for your dog with it.”

A sound as of a hundred silvery bells tinkled in the room of Mademoiselle. The laughter filled the alley and trickled back into the court, as strange a thing to enter there as sunlight itself. Mademoiselle was amused. Sidonie, a wise echo, added a sepulchral but faithful contralto. The laughter of the two seemed at last to penetrate the candy man. He fumbled with his horseshoe pin. At length Mademoiselle, exhausted, turned her flushed, beautiful face to the window.

“Candy man,” said she, “go away. When I laugh Sidonie pulls my hair. I can but laugh while you remain there.”

“Here is a note for Mademoiselle,” said Félice, coming to the window in the room.

“There is no justice,” said the candy man, lifting the handle of his cart and moving away.

Three yards he moved, and stopped. Loud shriek after shriek came from the window of Mademoiselle. Quickly he ran back. He heard a body thumping upon the floor and a sound as though heels beat alternately upon it.

“What is it?” he called.

Sidonie’s severe head came into the window.

“Mademoiselle is overcome by bad news,” she said. “One whom she loved with all her soul has gone—you may have heard of him—he is Monsieur Ives. He sails across the ocean to-morrow. Oh, you men!”