APTER THIRTEEN

_In which the Candy Man relates his story, and the Miser comes upon
Volume I of the shabby book with the funny name._

"I want you to know all about me," began the Candy Man, taking from his
pocket the shabby little book Virginia had once remarked on, "so there
may be no more wrong impressions."

They sat in the sunshine on the top step of the little pavilion, facing
the river. Margaret Elizabeth, supporting her chin in her hand, regarded
him gravely. The west wind was cool on their faces.

"I have often imagined myself telling you," he went on. "Not that there
is much to it, besides its strangeness. In fact, to be brief, I don't
know who I am."

The surprise in Miss Bentley's eyes caused him to add quickly: "Not that
I am a foundling. But my father and mother were lost at sea when I was
three years old. We were coming from Victoria to San Francisco, when the
steamer went down. Only a few of the passengers were saved, I among
them."

"How sad and terrible!" cried Margaret Elizabeth. "Can you remember it?
How lost and lonely you must have been! Poor little child!"

"I recall it only in a vague way," he answered, "confused with what has
since been told me. When it was known that my parents were lost, a man
and his wife, fellow passengers, offered to adopt me. Beyond the name
'Robert Deane, Wife and Child,' on the list at the ship's office, they
were unable to learn anything about me, and I was too young and
bewildered to give any clue."

"That is very strange," said Margaret Elizabeth. "Your new father and
mother were kind to you?"

"So kind I soon forgot the terror and loneliness, and grew happy and
content. Everything was done to make me forget, and I think while they
made every effort to find out something about me, they were glad when
they failed. I wish now that my childish memories might have been
fostered, for I find myself reaching back into a mist full of vague
shapes.

"My new father was a civil engineer, whose work took him here, there and
everywhere throughout the broad West. I never knew a permanent home. My
adopted mother died when I was twelve. After that came boarding school
and college. About the time I left college my father's health failed,
and for several years he was helpless and very dependent upon me, so
I gave up my plan of entering a mining school.

"It was during his illness that he began to speak to me of my own
parents. He had talked to them on several occasions