On the first day of the new month Snickchoo's expectations came shattering down like so many broken crystals of rock candy.

No matter how many bundles of licorice laces he laid down, he could not match exactly (and uncut) the length of the line of the Miser's laces.

Snickchoo particularly noted that each of the Miser's laces was now longer than last time.

Soon Snickchoo's basket was emptied, all his laces forfeit. He dragged Galatea, gurgling, away from the Candy Miser's cabin, a bouquet of violets dangling from her mouth.

As Snickchoo drove off, he fingered a silver cord he'd secretly cut to match the length of the Miser's new standard length.

By now Snickchoo's friends knew of his problems. News of the "Licorice Puzzle" spread through The Hollow and The Meadow. Even to the Kingdom of King Hopchop.

Glump the Candler borrowed one of Snickchoo's new laces on what Snickchoo thought peculiar grounds, but he was too busy to think more about it.

On the last day of the month, hearing a tumult in the road, Snickchoo emerged from his hut. He learned that all Gelves of The Hollow and all Children of The Meadow had labored this past month making licorice laces to the new standard (represented by the silver cord). They were now carting them to be stored in the Meeting Hall of Candy-Eater's Anonymous.

Glump also appeared to explain that the Candy Miser had agreed to hold the matching trial in front of the Meeting Hall, before all witnesses from The Hollow and The Meadow.

"We'll make certain he doesn't trick you. And, with all those extra laces to call upon, we'll surely repay that debt this time."

Snickchoo wiped a tear from his craggy face and tried to thank his friends, but Glump interrupted.

"Don't bother, dear old chap. We're only repaying your many kindnesses to all of us. Go home and get a good rest for the trial tomorrow."

But the next day all the hopes and expectations of Snickchoo and his friends seemed like sugared bubbles, borne like froth on the wind.

After a few hours, the two lines stretched like a railroad track from the Meeting House of Candy-Eater's Anonymous to the edge of the Purple Grotto, below the Hollow, without matching!

The last bundle was taken from the basket by Snickchoo's side. But the Candy Miser, assisted by his cousin (The Stingy Storekeeper on The Hill) seemed never to run out.

Snickchoo and his friends held their breath. For, as the black bundle slid into place, it looked as if the two lines at last matched.

Glump broke the silence. "They match! They match! Oh, Snickchoo, we've done it!"

But Snickchoo was staring at the Candy Miser, who was stolidly shaking his head.

"No, no, Glump. I'm afraid not. Too bad. But the two lines do not exactly match. Just get down on your knees and see for yourself."

Snickchoo knelt beside the two endcurls of licorice string. Adjusting his spectacles, he stared until the black thongs seemed to swim like the fine print on the contract.

Now the lines seemed to match. Now they didn't.

Yet, if the Candy Miser wasn't satisfied, what could one do?

Snickchoo looked appealingly at his antagonist, who was again shaking his head.

"No. Too bad. But they do not ex-act-ly match."

Snickchoo jumped to his feet. "Exactly! EXACTLY! What is this snooty word, 'exactly'?"

Snickchoo spluttered and waved his arms.

"Is it the sky that can merge into the horizon without outline? Is it the sea that blends with the shore as if they were lovers? Is it the rose and the color of the rose? Is it the dream that slips between the film of water and air in the rising bubble, where nothing is? So that the dream riding the bubble must be, the dream has to be, also the dreamer? Can 'exactly' claim to be these mysteries? Can it compete with even one of these?"

Snickchoo again raised hand aloft and began, bodily, to shake with ill-controlled anger and frustration, voice rising to a squeal: "What -- do -- you -- mean -- by -- ex -- act -- leeeee?"

The Candy Miser smiled a patronizing smile and patted Snickchoo's shoulders.

"There, there, my good fellow. Just look at the fine print in the contract. No, there -- at the bottom. I put down, clearly, what I mean by 'exactly'. But, then, you didn't bother to read it, did you?"

Snickchoo snatched up the birch-bark document and adjusted his spectacles. Raising the birch-bark to the dim light of the Purple Grotto, he squinted at the tiny ink droplets at the bottom of the contract.

Snickchoo reflected that, even to the eyes of waterspiders, the drops would look like much smaller waterspiders swimming in the edge of a pool.

Nulf took the contract from Snickchoo's hand and read the codicil with his keen cobbler's eyes.

"It says, Snickchoo, that the Candy Miser considers your line, when placed next to his, 'exactly' if it passes a specific test. IF a doorsill spider, sitting on the edge of your endcurl, refuses to spin a doorsill. Well, that makes sense! Everyone knows that the doorsill spider will only spin a doorsill if it has some kind of back to spin it against, like a --."

"-- a doorsill before a closed door", finished a wearied Snickchoo. "Yes, I know. But where are we to find a doorsill spider --?"

"It just so happens that I have one here in this jar", smiled the Candy Miser.

"Oh, he would!", growled Glump. "How do we know it's a doorsill spider?"

"Let me see", said Moomee, wife of Timbur the Carpenter. "I've had to relocate so many of them. They're always claiming squatter's rights on some house Timbur is building, and ---. Yes, that's a doorsill spider, all right."

"Yes, yes", conceded Snickchoo. "Get on with it!"

Delicately, the Candy Miser placed the doorsill spider at the edge of the endcurl of Snickchoo's long line of licorice laces. She just sat there and twiddled her twiddlers.

Snickchoo had to turn away. Everything seemed to fade out of focus, taking on the appearance of waterspiders swimming in a pool. But he winced when Nulf, with his sharp eyes, spied the worst!

"Oh, oh! There she goes! Oh, I'm sorry, dear dear Snickchoo. She's spun a doorsill all along the edge of the endcurl of your licorice lace. It isn't exactly --."

But Snickchoo was already on the way home.

(Ready for Chapter 7?)