Snickchoo was absorbed in his work, carving a wood platter which King Hopchop ordered for his Auntie Flopchop's birthday, when interrupted by a knock at the door.

It was Zelki the Joiner, accompanied by Atchoo the Chimney Sweep.

"Snickchoo, my dear dear friend", Zelki began, as they sat by the fire drinking cider, "I've done nothing since that astonishing fiasco this afternoon but walk up and down The Hollow thinking about your problem. And, do you know, I think the Candy Miser has discovered a very crooked way to trick you. If I'm correct and we don't do something quickly, you'll never be able to fulfill your pledge. You'll have to provide the Candy Miser with your fine licorice the rest of your life!"

Snickchoo groaned. "But how does he do it? I know he changes the length each time. That crooked contract I signed allows him to do so. All he's required is to start with the original number of laces I ate that -- that awful morning. But how does he manage it so that, no matter how many bundles I put down, I can never match his?"

"That's what I wondered this afternoon. And, then, I realized that he must have some way of knowing what you're going to do. I know you thought you were making a measurement of his length without his knowing. But think again, Snickchoo. How often does the Candy Miser get careless like that? And twice in a row?"

Snickchoo nodded and Zelki continued.

"So I guessed it possible that he allowed you to sneak a measurement because he wanted you to use that length the next time. And perhaps he even spied on you, to make certain you were doing so. So I asked around The Hollow, and several of your neighbors reported seeing the Candy Miser near here a few days after you visited him. I think he may have spied on you, made sure of the mold length you were using, then used his knowledge to trick you --."

Snickvhoo interrupted, "But how could he do that? How could he use that length to construct something that -- that couldn't be matched? You're a joiner. No matter how differently you've cut a board compared to another, you can always take enough copies of one length to match copies of the other length. Now --."

Zelki jumped up and paced about.

"That's what kept me walking up and down the Hollow. Walking up and down and saying that same thing. Asking myself over and over to explain such a failure. Walking up and down because there was a tickle in the back of my memory telling me I had the answer somewhere in the old attic.

"You see -- many times I've watched the Candy Miser at his bargaining. If he's selling, and knows you've told a friend you'd pay a certain price, then when you come to him, he raises the price a little. If he's buying, and knows you've decided on a certain asking price, he offers less. And that I can understand. As clearly as I can understand that, no matter what number you name, I can name a greater, just by adding one or more to the number you name.

"But how, I asked myself, can you twist that trick around to apply to lengths of wood or rods or bundles of licorice laces? So that, even if one does adjoin a longer length, it never matches a second length? Never comes outright? Ah, that's a magician's trick. Yet, I felt I'd heard about something like that. But I couldn't remember what I knew I should know.

"So, in desperation to learn something -- anything -- I asked friend Atchoo to sneak up to the Candy Miser's cabin, and down the chimney. To spy on him while the Candy Miser was counting his licorice booty -- as I knew he'd be."

(Ready for Chapter 8?)