"During the winter that General Washington and his Lady were stationed at Morristown, there was lots of doings all about the county. You'll read in the history of Lady Washington, how she was entertained by the first families about here—the Fords, the Footes, and others.

"Our great-grandmother was a fine needlewoman and went about to the houses making gowns and cloaks for the ladies. She always saved the scraps of silk and stuff that was wasted, and of these she patched several quilts. On the back of each bit of these materials, she pasted little book-muslin tickets that had the name and date printed on it, of the lady and the occasion she wore the gown. So on the back of each of these pieces is still to be found the printing of that ancestress of mine."

"Oh, isn't this interesting!" exclaimed Polly, eagerly.

And Eleanor asked: "Where are the other quilts?"

"We don't exactly know what happened to the others she made; but this one came right down from grandmother's mother to her, then to my mother, and now to me."

"Would any price tempt you to sell it?" asked Polly.

"Nothin' on earth, whiles I live. But I haven't any children, and goodness only knows what will become of the dear old heirloom. Why did you ask?"

"How I would love to own it! Not for its value in money but really to hold it as a precious patriotic reminder of those days when the ladies, even though they dressed fine and had good times, performed such heroic and almost super-human deeds for the Army," explained Polly.

Mrs. Johnson gazed keenly at the girl's face for a few moments, then said: "Tell me your name and address: I am going to write it out now, that this quilt is to be yours any time I die; and you must be as careful of it as we have been. Always keep tar-paper, or tobacco in it, during summer when moths fly about."

Polly thanked the lady very seriously and promised to be most careful of it in every way, but she said she hoped Mrs. Johnson would live a long time to enjoy the quilt as her own family relic.

On the drive back through Morristown that day, Mrs. Fabian had Carl stop at Mr. Van Styne's auction rooms, but the old man was not in, and the door was locked. A sheet of paper tacked inside the sash of the door, announced that the owner was at Parsippany numbering household goods for an auction to be held in two weeks' time.

Mrs. Fabian made a note of the name and location of the house where the sale was to be held, and came back to the automobile. She showed the paper to the girls, and said:

"We'll try to get out here for that sale. But I'll write Mr. Van Styne first, and ask him what sort of things the people have."

"Yes, it would be silly to come so far and find the house contained nothing but horrid old modern stuff," said Eleanor.

Arriving home, late that afternoon, Mrs. Fabian was given a letter sent from the old auctioneer at Morristown. He had kept his word and notified the young collectors of the sale about to be held at Parsippany: the sale they had heard about that day.

"He says, in this letter," explained Mrs. Fabian after reading it, "the old farm-house where the vendue will take place, is filled with real old furniture; the family that owned the farm have held it for five generations. Mr. Van Styne admits that he is not enough of a connoisseur to judge the actual value of the antiques, but there are some mahogany pieces, and loads of queer old things that his wife would have kept in the attic, or split up for kindlings. As he thinks this is what is now called 'Period Furniture,' he would suggest that we run out and have a look at it before the day of the sale."

"The letter sounds exactly like him, doesn't it?" laughed Polly.

"Yes, but it is very nice of him to be so honest about it. Most auctioneers would tell us the furniture was wonderful," returned Mrs. Fabian.

"When do you think we can run out there, Mrs. Fabian?" asked Eleanor, eagerly.

"We'll find out what day Carl can best arrange for the trip. We mustn't 'drive a willing horse to death,' you know."

Later in the evening, the telephone bell rang and Polly was called to the 'phone. The maid who answered the ring said it was a man's voice but she had not been able to understand the name.

Eleanor heard her chum say: "Oh, really! We've been wondering what became of you. It was so surprising to find you were an old friend of our Mr. Dalken's and then never hear from you again, or have anyone know where you had gone."

Mrs. Fabian glanced questioningly at Eleanor, but the girl shook her head in token of her ignorance of who the caller could be. Then they heard Polly say: "Why, I reckon so. If you'll hold the wire a moment, I'll run and ask Mrs. Fabian."

A few moments later, Polly rushed into the room and said eagerly: "Jack Baxter is on the 'phone and wants to know if he may come in, tomorrow evening, Mrs. Fabian. He says he has a little furniture commission for Nolla and me to take care of."

Mrs. Fabian immediately replied that the young man would be welcomed the following evening, and Polly hurried back to deliver the invitation. Eleanor waited until she heard the conversation over the telephone resumed between the two, then she said to Mrs. Fabian:

"I bet anything, that Jack Baxter is really in love with Polly! I watched him all that time, after he was formally introduced by Mr. Dalken, and he just hung on her every word and act."

Mrs. Fabian smiled. "That is the usual experience the young men have with Polly. I think the very fact that she is unmindful of her attractions, coupled with her indifference to the attentions of the male sex, acts as a spur to them; each tries to see if she will not capitulate to his individual charms."

Eleanor laughed. "You speak as if you believed the young men to be egotistical enough to think they were charming."

"They do, Nolla!" retorted Mrs. Fabian. "Every Adam's son firmly believes he is more alluring and attractive to a girl, than his friends. That is why they all follow tamely after a girl who has no time for them: they cannot believe it possible that she is not overcome with their fascinations."

Eleanor smiled as she listened, then she remarked: "I guess I'll try Polly's strategy and see if the beaus line up for me."

"You have no need to experiment with any new tricks," replied Mrs. Fabian, warningly. "There are enough sighing young men already, waiting to break their hearts and necks, for a mere glance from those impish eyes of yours."

Eleanor laughed merrily at her chaperone's words, but Polly's return to the room interrupted their little talk.

"What do you think?" demanded Polly, as soon as she was in the room.

Not giving them time to answer, she said: "Jack Baxter is going to furnish a bachelor apartment in the city, and says he is going to give Nolla and me the contract for doing it. It will be our very first work as interior decorators!"

"Oh," gasped Eleanor, "how can we do it?"

Polly looked amazed at such a question, and retorted: "Why, with money and brains, to be sure!"

"Is that why he's coming tomorrow evening?" asked Eleanor.

"Yes; he is now staying at Mr. Dalken's apartment, and both of them are coming over tomorrow. He says he has been West since we last saw him, and he stopped at Pebbly Pit to see the folks, on his way back from the Coast. That is why he has not been heard from—he was called away so suddenly, and just got back today."

"I wonder why he took all the trouble to go to Pebbly Pit?" said Eleanor. "He didn't know a soul there!"

"That's what I asked him, and he says he will tell us all about it tomorrow night," explained Polly.



CHAPTER XI

POLLY'S FIRST CONTRACT

Promptly at eight, Jack Baxter and Mr. Dalken were announced to Polly and Eleanor. The Fabians had gone to the Opera and Mr. Dalken was supposed to act as chaperone for the evening.

"This is a new experience for me," laughed he, "but not one that I dislike. In fact, I will be glad to offer my services in the same capacity, at any time, for you girls."

"Better beware how you offer yourself on such an altar," teased Polly, trying to appear calm and composed, whereas she was keyed up to hear about the proposed work young Baxter wished them to do for his new apartment.

Eleanor deemed it wise to mention another subject first, so she asked: "How long were you at Pebbly Pit, Mr. Baxter?"

"That's one of the reasons we came over to see you," interpolated Mr. Dalken. "Jack has a lot to tell you about the troubles there."

"What troubles?" wondered Polly. "You don't mean the land-slide, do you?"

"We know about that," added Eleanor.

"You only heard the first news of it. But you never knew what followed that first event," returned Mr. Dalken. "I've known how things stood for a short time, but I talked it over with the Latimers, and we decided to let Jack go West with Mr. Alexander, and investigate matters for themselves."

"Dodo's father! What has he to do with it?" asked both girls in surprise.

"More than we can ever appreciate. Because he is such an experienced old miner, having spent years in the Klondike, and later, down in the Colorado mining districts, his going to Pebbly Pit was the best thing that ever happened to our company. Jack had just decided to invest a great deal of his capital in the joint companies, so he decided to accompany Alexander and see for himself how the land lay."

"And what was Mr. Alexander's verdict?" asked Polly.

"Listen to Jack's story of what happened on the mountain, that early morning. It is as thrilling as anything I ever heard," said Mr. Dalken.

"I'd have given anything to have been on the spot when that old peak divided her earthly substance," laughed Jack. "But even the telling of it by Tom Latimer and John Brewster, was so exciting that I tried every way possible to reach the mountain where the awful avalanche took place.

"Tom had felt a tremor run along the side of the peak the night before, and had warned John that old Grizzly was ripping mad again. So the two of them rode along the Crest where those claim-jumpers were buried the time that other avalanche occurred, and they saw that Grizzly Slide had broken up great masses of ice-field, and on the far side where it drops suddenly to the valley, thousands of feet below, a great block of ice and rock had fallen from the top-side and had rolled down, destroying everything in its terrific plunge.

"Both boys were satisfied that it was only a matter of time before the gaping crevices showing on the side towards the gold mine, would widen and the top-mass begin to move. It was impossible to say whether a slide would happen on the cave-side or roll down one of the gulleys on either side of the mine. But the two of them made up their minds that everyone must move from the camp without delay, and seek safety.

"Orders were given to strike camp at once, and the men worked all night, packing away outfits and tools, and such machinery as could be moved inside the cave. Then the mouth was closed against winter storms, and they started, on their horses, to ride along Top Notch Trail, on the down trip.

"It was almost noon when they left the mine, and by two o'clock they halted on one of the crests to cook dinner. The horses were hobbled where a patch of Buffalo grass provided good pastureage, and Rattlesnake Mike started a fire to cook the meal. Tom and John got out their tackle to catch a few trout, when a fearful roll of thunder sounded along the crest.

"'She come down, pooty queeck!' exclaimed Mike, startled out of his usual calmness.

"'Do you mean Old Grizzly?' Tom asked him.

"But before he could reply, there was such a crash and roar, and the whole ground shook under their feet as if an earthquake had caused it. Everyone stood aghast looking at what had been snow-capped Grizzly but a moment before. So astonished were the men that they couldn't speak.

"The roar and tumult continued so seemingly close at hand, that the men ran for their horses, and would have ridden down the trail had not Mike laughed and applied a match to the kindling, just as if nothing was happening above them on Grizzly Slide. It instantly quieted the fears of the others, and they turned again to wait for further events.

"Tom Latimer says, that what caused such a panicky feeling in them all, was the fact that one moment they had seen the glistening cap of Old Grizzly, and the next, it was gone, and a great cloud of flying white particles hid the scene for a time.

"The terrific detonation they heard immediately after the peak's snow-cap rolled down the mountain-side, was caused by the mass of rock, ice, snow and general debris, striking the ground below. How far it fell before striking, they could not say, but Mike claims it must have been hurtled, from the peak of Grizzly, to the great gulch that runs along its lower side, about five thousand feet below—all that distance before landing and filling the ravines about that section.

"All the way down, from Grizzly Gulches to the bottoms that run along Bear Forks branches, the avalanche tore up trees, boulders, moraine, and other heavy matter, that generally forms a dam for smaller slides than this one was. But this time, entire forests were shoved along, still standing, just like a great cake of icing with fancy frosting of colored sugar on top of it, is pushed off from a slice of birthday cake, when the knife loosens it. The moment any part of this avalanche came up against a cliff, or rolled over into vast ravines, that much of the sliding forest tumbled up against itself, or fell into the gulch to instantly fill up the cleft and cause the remaining slide to roll over it.

"The end of that avalanche did not come until it reached the valley of Bear Forks, just below Pebbly Pit ranch. If your home had not been snugly located up in that crater, but had been down in the valley by the river, it would have been completely covered with the tons of trash that still remained after having rolled for miles, and finally worn itself out on the banks of the stream.

"All the branches of Bear Forks that start up on the side of the mountain, are choked, and the waters rushed in every direction, starting smaller slides by up-rooting trees and loose stones and shale.

"The miners followed Mike's example, and ate a hearty dinner, although they were all crazy to ride back and ascertain the extent of the damage caused. Mike was for their going quietly on home, but not one of the others would agree to this. So they turned back and rode as far as the trail was passable. But they could not climb over the great mass of debris that was piled up, shortly after leaving Four Blaze Tree. And the queer sensation of not seeing the old familiar top on Grizzly Peak, unnerved them for further adventure that day.

"They got home past midnight, to hear the account of what happened as witnessed by Anne, and Mr. and Mrs. Brewster.

"At the first rolling of the slide, Anne ran out of the ranch-house and watched anxiously, as she knew the men were up at the mine. She saw such a strange sight that she rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. She says, she saw the top of Old Grizzly break right off as if someone had cleft it at a given point down from the peak. And this gigantic mass of ice, still glittering in the sun-rays, toppled down until she heard the crash and roar and felt the earth shake under her feet even at that great distance from the Peak that the ranch was.

"The ranch-house and the out-buildings shook as in a quake, and caused everyone to run toward the terrace that runs along the edge of the crater. There they stood watching clouds of snow float up over the forests that, one moment were to be seen, and the next were moving swiftly down the mountain sides.

"The folks feared the men at the mine had been killed, as the avalanche was the greatest they had ever heard of in that vicinity, so Mr. Brewster rode madly to Oak Creek to get some men to go with him to see if any signs of his boys could be found.

"They met them at Lone Pine Blaze, and Tom said that John's father sat still and sobbed like a child, with relief at finding everyone in his mining-party safe.

"So, Miss Polly, the gold mine is closed by Nature, for untold repairs. Whether this generation will ever locate the ore and dig out the tools and machinery buried in the cave, remains to be seen. But I was so infatuated with life in the Rockies during the short visit I had there, that I determined to put in all the cramming at college that was possible, and finish my education so I could go out there to join Tom Latimer and John Brewster in their exciting engineering work."

When Jack had concluded his story, the girls seemed rather downcast at the knowledge that their little mine was gone, but Mr. Dalken said to young Baxter:

"You may as well tell them about the Cliffs, and have all the mourning over at one time."

Polly glanced anxiously from Mr. Dalken to Jack, and then at Eleanor, but the young man explained without waiting longer: "All the miners working at Rainbow Cliffs went on a big strike shortly after the calamity on Grizzly Slide, and so unreasonable were their demands that Mr. Brewster refused to grant them. That stopped work on the lava jewels, too, and everything is closed down until next year. Of course, while there is no work going on, there are no wages to pay, but there is also no income from the vast amount of money invested in machinery."

"Dear me, then really, I am a pauper for the time being," exclaimed Polly, but not in a distressed tone as one would expect after such dire news.

"Your mother told me most emphatically, that that was not the case. Everyone at Pebbly Pit seems to want you to continue with your studies until you have finished; and your father said there was a tidy fortune in a Denver bank for you, so that no matter what happened to others, you were amply provided for. With your business that you wish to take up, you will not have to worry over the future," explained Jack Baxter.

Eleanor remembered that Mr. Dalken had invested heavily in these two Pebbly Pit ventures, and now she turned to him.

"Will everyone connected with those two mines lose a great deal of money?"

"Your father, the Latimers, the Evans', myself and John Brewster hold equal shares of stock, but Polly's father holds twice as much as anyone else, for he holds Polly's stock as her guardian as well as his own. The Montresor Estate, representing the heirs of Kenneth's uncle who first discovered the mine on Grizzly, and then willed it to Polly who later re-discovered the same vein of ore in the cave, hold the same number of shares in the stock-company as either of us, although they did not furnish any cash for their stock.

"Now Ebeneezer Alexander told Jack to tell us, that he simply could not stand city-life another day. And, after enjoying the freedom and open life of the Rockies again, he was determined to stay at Pebbly Pit and see the tangle worked out. His experience will be most valuable to Tom and John, who are only young engineers, after all. And Mr. Brewster is a stock-grower with no knowledge of mining. So we think it is a good plan to let Mr. Alexander take up some of our shares, and sell him an interest in the future of these mines.

"If anyone can pull Choko's Find Mine out of the grave it is buried in, old Ebeneezer can do it. He has such energy and perseverance that nothing daunts him—excepting big cities."

"And titles!" added Eleanor, making her friends laugh.

"Oh, I'm glad to hear he will stay there to help. I like him so much!" declared Polly.

"Well, now that most of our evening was given to the story about the land-slide on Grizzly, how much time am I to be given for the furnishing of my apartment?" asked Jack Baxter.

"Just talking about it won't furnish it," retorted Polly, smilingly.

"No, but we can get at first principles, can't we?"

"Yes; if both sides know on what basis each wishes to start!" said Eleanor.

"I know my side of it, and I really think you girls know yours. This is my basis: I have two large rooms and bath near Fifth Avenue, that I want a decorator to do in keeping with the style of the rooms. I don't care where or how you get the items for furnishing, but I'd like some of the fun of going about with you when you visit odd corners of the country to dig up the antiques."

"If you waste your time that way, how do you expect to finish a hurried education in engineering?" asked Polly.

"Oh, furnishing won't last long, and studying will."

"If Mr. Dalken is a conscientious executor of your estate I should think he'd forbid your wasting any time hunting up furniture and hiring decorators to do it for you, at the same time," teased Eleanor.

Mr. Dalken laughed and said: "I always said 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.'"

"Well, Jack can work for two whole weeks before he gets any play, as far as going to a sale is concerned. There will be no sale, that we know of, until the old house at Parsippany is sold in two weeks," explained Polly.

"I won't have to wait as long as that, I hope, for my apartment. I'm paying rent on it already, and am stopping with Mr. Dalken as his guest, until I get a bed and a chair."

"But I thought you wanted to furnish by going to the sales of antiques," ventured Polly.

"I did, but I want to go to one tomorrow. Can't you girls contract to escort me to places in the city where we can get things without waiting?"

"As far as that is concerned, we can take you right over to the Ashby Shop and find everything on earth you can use, right in his collections," said Polly.

"I wanted to feel that you two girls were getting this contract and the profits, and not a famous establishment," demurred Jack.

"We'll have the contract, all right, but we will only buy what we need from Mr. Ashby, at regular discount, you know," explained Eleanor in a business-like manner.

Mr. Dalken smiled indulgently on his two young friends who had developed such marvelous aptitude for business since their trip abroad that summer. And young Baxter concluded with: "All right; tomorrow, you girls get Mrs. Fabian, and come over to my rooms to get your 'atmosphere.' Then we'll start in and shop."

So the next ten days were filled with a great many visits to the apartment to determine certain colors and styles of things, and with a great deal of important conferring between the client and the decorators. But eventually, the apartment was almost ready for its occupant, and three young people declared that the decorating was a work of art—simply perfect! And it did not cost so very much, either! Mr. Dalken reserved his opinion on costs, however, and laughed in his sleeve at Baxter, for the latter had no more need of an apartment than a cat has for two tails. It was a whim of his to give the girls a contract, and Jack could afford whims, so his guardian said nothing about the bills.

"Well, I must say," said Polly the day after Jack held a "house-warming" in his newly furnished domain, "I never saw ten days go by as fast as these did. Here we are almost on top of that sale in the country, and it seems like yesterday that we got the announcement."

"It shows how much we really love our profession," said Eleanor, "when we get so much pleasure out of work."

But Dodo was present at some of the conferences the two amateur decorators held with Jack and she now remarked: "Work! did you two think that going about in Jack's sporty car and lunching at swell dining-rooms, or holding up a strip of gold-gauze to watch the sheen on your hand, was hard work?"

Mrs. Fabian laughed to herself at the conversation. But Polly answered with an experienced air: "When you have had years of study in decorating, like Nolla and I have had, you will find that work is not altogether a physical effort. At present, in your apprenticeship, you do more than you saw us do in furnishing, but you'll learn, some day!"

Dodo tossed her head confidently, and remarked: "I have nothing more to learn—if your knowledge is the acme of the understanding of your trade."

As no reply was given this statement, Mrs. Fabian hurried from the room to laugh quietly to herself at the egotism of youth. Later when Mr. Ashby was told the story, he said:

"When they have been at the profession for thirty years, and have acquired all the knowledge that I have in that time, they will begin to learn that we all know very little of harmony and perfect ideals in decorating."



CHAPTER XII

THE PARSIPPANY VENDUE

It was a lovely late Fall day when Carl brought Mr. Dalken's car around to the Fabian's residence to drive the girls to the Parsippany sale. Jack Baxter was seated beside Carl and announced to the girls as they came out with Mrs. Fabian: "I'm invited to go with you."

"Who asked you?" was the rejoinder from both girls.

"Carl did. He gets tired of chauffing for hours without rest. So I offered to help him out."

Of course, Carl's uncomfortable flush showed that Jack was joking, but he was a welcome addition to the small party, so they started off, a merry quartette.

As there had been no time to drive out, so far, to inspect the household goods for sale, it had been postponed until the day of the sale. Mrs. Fabian said that should there be nothing desirable at the old house, they could go on and have another hunt about the country.

But the sale promised to be an interesting one, for the moment the girls found out that the house they were looking for was an old Colonial two-story farm-house, with wings at each side, they felt sure of its contents being worth-while.

They parked the car out in a large carriage-house and walked over to the front door. It was a true type, with sunburst window over the door, and a wonderful old knocker on the front panel of the door. A narrow high window at each side had diamond panes in them. There was a dear little hood over the doorway that someone called a "rain-shed." And on each side of the "stoop" which was reached by three steps, was a high-backed wooden seat, with funny low arms at the outer ends.

The windows of the entire house were filled with small-paned sash, the glass being green and wavy in some panes, and as cloudy as mist in others. Then again other panes were of really clear white glass. The city visitors found later, that these old panes were the original old glass set in by the first owner.

But they did not come to admire the outside, so they all went indoors to look about. They entered upon a tiny entry.

The front parlor was a small band-box-like room with a chimney piece at one side, and a stove-pipe hole in it for winter use. Alongside the chimney was a narrow cupboard that was meant to hold books, or other things, to keep the parlor from being "cluttered up."

Directly opposite the chimney was a long, high-backed settee, with haircloth covering. The frame was old mahogany and the shape hinted at Chippendale, with its six feet having beautiful lines, and the side arms curving graciously out to invite one to be seated.

In this best room were, also, several rush-bottomed stencilled chairs, and a Boston Rocker. An inlaid Hepplewhite table stood against the wall between the two front windows, with its drop-leaf raised against the wall. A number of old pieces of brass and pewter stood on the table. Over it hung an early Georgian mirror but the reflection one got when gazing into it was terrifying.

From the parlor, the collectors went to the long living-room that occupied one wing of the house. Here was a great open fire-place with crane, and everything used in olden times for keeping a fire in good order. Over the mantel hung a wonderful old mirror with a colored picture of Washington crossing the Delaware in its upper panel.

A rare Empire table with both leaves up, stood in the middle of the room, and Polly instantly made up her mind to own that table, if nothing more that day.

As they went about admiring the antiques, Jack said: "Gee! But I'm sorry we furnished the apartment so soon. What a lot of fine things we might have had at this sale."

And Eleanor laughingly remarked: "Sell your flat out like so many New Yorkers do, and start in again on another."

In the low-ceiled, wide dining-room, they found the typical round mahogany table with twelve chairs—two arm and ten side chairs. The seats were covered with rep, but must have had haircloth on them at one time. The backs were very low and curved away from the small of the back in a frightened manner. There was but one cross-piece in the back and that was curved also.

The side-board was nearly eight feet long, with six claw feet, and a high top. On it stood a tea-caddy of mahogany, a knife-box, and several silver boxes. All of them must have been over a hundred years old. Very old china and glassware stood on the large table, ready to be sold. The collectors saw many desirable pieces there, but they were too anxious to visit the upstairs to stop, then, and examine the plates and other pieces.

There were four large square rooms on the second floor and in each one, stood a wonderful four-poster bed—two with canopy-tops and two without. Empire work-tables were in two rooms, and besides the high chests of mahogany drawers, and low dressing-tables with tiny front drawers to hold the comb and brush, there were also ottomans, foot-stools, and ornamental pieces. Mirrors hung over each mantel, and old-fashioned prints and paintings were on the walls.

By the time Mrs. Fabian and the girls went downstairs again, they were dumbfounded to find that a farm-house so near to Morristown and railroad stations, should have preserved such a wonderful lot of old mahogany furniture without having been discovered by collectors. But being strangers to the other people now gathering for the sale, they did not speak of their wonderment.

Mr. Van Styne was late, and as soon as he arrived he began in the kitchen, without any greeting to his followers. There seemed to be a far different type of buyer at this sale, than the girls had found at any of the little sales in Westchester; and once the auctioneer began on the antique pieces, the prices ran up alarmingly.

"That man standing over there just paid a hundred and sixty dollars for that Colonial secretary," whispered Polly, annoyance expressed in her tone for she had been bidding on the same piece.

"He doesn't look as if he had sixty cents in his purse," said Eleanor, scornfully.

A lady standing beside her, looked at the buyer and smiled. "That man is one of the buyers of one of the largest antique collectors in New York."

"He is!" gasped Eleanor.

"Who is the collector?" asked Polly, but the woman saw a little Toby put up for sale, just then, and she wanted to bid on it, so Polly never heard.

Anything that could boast of being a hundred years old, or more, brought fabulous prices, and the girls were amazed to hear names that they had read of in the columns of the New York papers, called out by the cashier, but never dreamed they would come face to face with the owners thereof.

Jack Baxter spied a woman he knew, and finally brought her over to meet Mrs. Fabian and the girls. This lady was a social leader in the City, and furnished much interesting information to her new acquaintances, about others present who were buying.

That sale taught Polly that it was not always the farm-houses that furnished the rarest bargains at a sale, especially when that farm was in proximity to a well-known residential suburb. But she also found that not everyone who attends a public sale, and bids anxiously, knows the value of what they are bidding on.

Thus it transpired, that she secured several of the finest antiques in the house, because others knew nothing of their true records or had overlooked the objects because of their unattractive finish or form.

Jack furnished much amusement to his friends by bidding on everything the girls did not want. And the most amusing part of it was, he seldom secured a thing he bid on. He finally grew so desperate in his bidding, because Polly laughed at his luck, that the people frowned upon him as being a "professional capper."

Mr. Van Styne overheard that remark and was furious.

"I want you all to know that I am an honest auctioneer! I never had a booster in my life, and I've sold for nigh onto fifty years. That nice-looking young man you call a 'capper' is a friend of some friends of mine from New York, out here to buy antiques. To prove it to you-all, that young lady there, next the young man, is the one who gave the 'Metropolitan' the rare print she found in my shop. So there! I reckon that will hold you, for a time!"

The surprise felt by the buyers at this news about Polly, was instantly followed by a general laugh at the auctioneer's final remark to them. Baxter laughed at the interruption, but Polly felt very uncomfortable with so many eyes turned her way. Mr. Van Styne, never dreaming of having made personal remarks, now continued his sale.

The antique furniture in the upstairs chambers brought higher prices than Polly had seen similar pieces on sale at the antique shops in New York, and she wondered still more that a country auction should bring forth buyers who were willing to pay such high prices.

Finally, feeling sure that there were no more bargains for them that day, Polly led the way downstairs. Young Baxter tried to persuade her to remain and try for a high-boy she had admired, but she refused to give the high bids demanded. So Jack stayed when the others left the room.

Down on the side-porch, while waiting for Carl to come from the carriage sheds, a well-dressed lady accosted Polly.

"I heard the auctioneer say you presented a rare print to the Museum in New York City. I should be pleased to hear about it."

She handed Polly a card. Upon reading the name of one of the best known amateur collectors in New York, Polly forgot to reply. Mrs. Fabian smiled and spoke for her, to give her time to recover from her surprise. After introducing the girls, Mrs. Fabian mentioned the fact that Polly and Eleanor took advantage of every sale in or about the City, in order to familiarize themselves with such articles as they would need in their profession.

"Oh, are you studying this line of work?" asked the lady, deeply interested at once.

"Yes, we have given several years to the study, already, and last Summer we went abroad to visit the best known places where antiques and collections were to be seen," replied Polly.

"Well then, my dears, this is my lucky day. I want someone to do this sort of work for me, but I want only such interested individuals who love the collecting for itself, and not alone for wages. Also, I want someone who can tell a Sheraton piece from Empire. If you girls will accept a proposition from me, I will be glad to talk it over, some morning, with you."

Polly smiled and said: "If your orders do not interfere with our studies and other work, we will gladly accept the work."

So, by the time Jack Baxter hurried down the stairs, Polly and Eleanor had made a new connection with one of New York's social leaders. Jack looked about for his friends, for a moment, and then smiled in surprise as he rushed forward.

"Why, Mrs. Courtney! I am delighted to see you here. Did you just arrive?"

"Well, if it isn't Jack Baxter! No, my boy, I came out this morning thinking this was a bona fide antique sale. To my disgust, I found it was 'fixed' by a clever dealer from the city, who chooses just such suburban towns as are famous for its millionaire residents, then he plans a campaign. He was wise enough, this time, to engage Mr. Van Styne to do the selling for him, as the old man is so popular with the people of his town, and he is a splendid auctioneer, at the same time."

Polly was dumbfounded. "Do you mean to say that anyone would take the trouble to ship out all these antiques, so far from the city, just to catch a lot of buyers?"

Mrs. Courtney laughed. "Of course, my dear. People will take any amount of trouble to make a few extra dollars. This dealer owns his own trucks, and why not let them put in a day's work carting a load of furniture here, if he can get twice as much for his goods as in New York? All he has to do, is to find the right type of old house conveniently near the city for motoring and large enough to show off his wares to the best advantage. This man is clever enough, too, to select only such places as are rich with Revolutionary lore, and near enough to the estates of the rich to be an attraction to owners to come. Then he mails announcements to his city clientele, also. That is how I heard of the sale."

Jack frowned angrily. "I suppose that darned old high-boy I just bought for a top-notch figure, could have been purchased at this man's city shop for half the price! Now I have to pay to have it crated and shipped back to New York."

"Oh, this 'fixer' will move it back in his trucks for a neat sum," said Eleanor.

Her companions laughed. Polly then reminded him: "I said not to bid on it! I knew it would go too high for us to bother with."

Carl now drove up to the house, and Mrs. Courtney bid them good-day, having reminded Polly that she and Eleanor were to telephone her at their first opportunity.

Polly could not help speaking of the "fixed" sale of antiques, and Eleanor said: "That is why everything brought such awfully high prices. The articles must have had a set price on them to begin with, and when Mr. Van Styne offered a thing, the dealer was there to run it to a figure beyond the given price on the books. I am surprised that the old auctioneer would do such a thing."

"I don't believe he knew the sale was what we call 'padded'; for he seems too conscientious a man to lend himself to such a deception," remarked Mrs. Fabian.

"If he was just hired to sell the stuff, regardless of how it got out to Parsippany, and told to follow book-orders, he had no choice, had he?" asked Polly.

"He looks such an honest old fellow, I don't believe he even knew the goods came from a New York dealer. Just because he is so honest, is one reason why people who knew him will listen to his advice and for the same reason a clever New York dealer would hire him. I wouldn't be surprised, if you girls hear from him, some day, to the effect that he is shocked to learn that this sale was not on the level as far as the yarn went," said Jack.

"Well, I'd feel better if he did. I really feel hurt, now, to think he might be as tricky as that other dealer," said Polly.

"But it would not be called 'tricky,' Polly, in clever business circles," said Mrs. Fabian.

"Maybe not, but to me it looks a lot like selling goods under false representations. I'd rather not sell anything than have to sell that way."

"When you come right down to 'brass tacks' and study out the whole scheme of things, Polly, we might be accused of tricky works, too," remarked Eleanor.

"What do you mean?" demanded Polly, astonished.

"Well, when you think of how we got that pair of old candle-sticks in exchange for a brass lamp! We had no lamp to exchange, but Mrs. Fabian rushed off to a store and got one. Then there were those old pictures at Van Styne's. We were afraid he'd suspect them of being valuable, so we dusted them well again, as they had been originally, and placed them with two others to make a 'job lot' of them, to hide the facts about them."

"But," remonstrated Polly, "the lady who had no use for the candle-sticks did want a brass lamp the worst way. And Sally Dolan, who never appreciated the pictures when she had them, did appreciate the money we paid for them—while we appreciated the old things other folks failed to value."

"Polly is right, there, Nolla," added Mrs. Fabian. "I do not see a trick in giving a person exactly what they ask for a thing—whether they realize the true value of it, or not. That is their affair. In Law, the Judge says there is no excuse or cause, for mitigating a sentence because the prisoner claims he was ignorant of consequences of a deed. So it is in other lines: Ignorance can never claim excuse from consequences—whether it be a sale of a candle-stick or a piece of old land that turns out to have gold on it."

"Then I should say, ignorance on the part of the buyers at this vendue, exonerates the dealer from all blame," said Eleanor.

"Legally it does, but we were thinking of the moral," explained Mrs. Fabian.

When the collectors reached the Fabian house, Jack seemed loath to go on, so Mrs. Fabian invited him in to have a bite with them at an informal dinner.

It had been plainly evident for some time, that the only interest Jack Baxter had taken in furnishing his apartment, or in going about to hunt out old antiques, was because it gave him plenty of opportunities to be with Polly. And as is often the case, when one is completely absorbed in a pursuit, Polly was the last one to suspect the truth of this.

But he forgot discretion that evening, at dinner, and permitted too much of his attention to be directed Polly's way. Even this might have been overlooked had not an interruption occurred while at the table.

The telephone bell was heard, and shortly afterward, the maid came around to Polly's side and said:

"A Mr. Latimer on the wire, Miss Polly."

Eleanor was all interest at once: "Can it be Jim, or Tom, I wonder?"

Polly was excusing herself at the moment, but turned to add: "You know very well that Tom has his hands full at the mines."

Eleanor flushed, for she had almost given away a secret that Paul had told her in his last letter. Thus far she had kept quiet about the confidence.

Polly ran from the room, and Jack Baxter scowled at his plate. Mr. Fabian smiled at his face and tried to engage him in conversation. But Polly's continued absence annoyed the youth, so that he lost his appetite, and, in fact, all interest in any subject started.

Polly skipped back after a time, her face wreathed in smiles. "You will never guess who I was talking to?"

Everyone but Jack pretended not to know, but he blurted out: "When I was out at the ranch, that Tom Latimer said something about coming East for the Winter months—as long as Alexander proposed to stay out there and take a hand in the work."

"Why, this is the first word you've said about it," said Polly, amazed.

"Had I known you were so deeply interested in the plans of young Latimer, I would have told you immediately," said Jack, with sarcasm born of jealousy in his voice.

Polly refused to answer him, and immediately asked Mrs. Fabian to excuse her from dinner as she wished to dress for the evening.

The rest of the family finished the meal with the uncomfortable sense of Jack's having lost caste in Polly's estimation. He felt it himself, and it certainly did not tend to make him more agreeable that evening.

As soon after dinner as could be politely managed, Jack spoke of a theatre engagement and excused himself. His hostesses felt easier when the door slammed upon him, for they dreaded having Tom announced while his rival was there, and then have the whole evening spoiled by both young men glowering at each other.

While Eleanor and Nancy ran upstairs to dress for the evening, the former whispered: "If Tom remains in New York all this winter, I bet he'll get Polly before he goes back to the mines, or else he'll 'cook his goose' for all time!"

Nancy laughed merrily, and said: "No goose will be cooked if Polly knows it! But I'll wager you a box of candy, Nolla, that Tom will not get his girl before he goes back to the mines."

"All right, Nanc! That's a wager; a five-pound box of the best bon bons, that Tom and Polly will be engaged before the end of this winter season!"



CHAPTER XIII

TOM MEANS BUSINESS

Polly's friends had not completed their dressing when Tom was announced, but she was waiting in the cozy library; so Tom crossed the long formal parlor in a few strides, when he caught sight of her in the softly shaded light of the floor-lamp.

"Polly! Oh, but I'm glad to see you again!" breathed he as he caught both hands and devoured her smiles with his eyes.

"I should hope you would be glad! Isn't everyone I know glad to see me after they have been absent a long time?" laughed Polly, in a matter-of-fact tone.

But Tom glanced hastily about the room. Then he quite unexpectedly leaned forward and caught her face between his palms. "Polly Brewster, I'm going to salute you with a brotherly kiss!" whispered Tom, and immediately, he pressed a kiss upon her red lips—but Polly felt sure it was not like John's kisses.

She tried to free her head from his powerful hands, but he laughed masterfully and held her under the light while he gazed into her eyes. Finally Polly felt herself growing warm and flushed, and to stop his look she closed her eyes and began kicking at his shins.

With a happy laugh, Tom freed her face and picked her up in his arms. In three long strides he was over at the divan where he placed her, sitting upright. Then he sat down beside her.

"Why—Tom Latimer!" gasped Polly, angrily, trying to rearrange her hair which had become tumbled in the fray.

"Why—Tom Latimer!" laughed he, mimicking Polly very cleverly. "You don't know this Tom, do you, girl! But this is the Tom that you'll know hereafter. I'm through acting like a woolly lamb just because Anne says that's the only way to get a girl! You're a Rocky Mountain girl and the only way to make you notice, is to use ranch methods to lasso you. That's why I'm here in New York. Catch me letting a rich society darling like that Baxter spend the winter months making love to you, when I'm wasting my heart away at Pebbly Pit, hoping against hope for a nice long letter from you!"



Tom's frown and the tone in which he declared himself, made Polly want to laugh albeit she shrunk away, somewhat, for fear of a plot in his mind.

Tom had, in his fervor, lost control once, but he was too wise to indulge himself again, in such a manner. Tom had spent a great deal of time in studying, during the past year, the psychology of love, and now he was going to test his knowledge. He told John, just before he left the ranch, that once a girl liked a fellow, it was easy to make her love him, by judicious treatment. In explanation, he said:

"When Jeb wants to coax one of the burros to the barn, he doesn't give him the measure of oats to eat out on the range—no, he leads the burro to the barn by holding the box of feed ahead of his nose!"

The Brewsters laughed at Tom's idea, but he declared that that was the way he was going to get Polly. And all their arguments about giving Polly a chance to finish her studies and try out her beloved work, fell on dull ears. Tom started East!

"Polly, let's all go to a good show, shall we?" was Tom's unexpected invitation, just as his companion began to worry because he sat so close beside her.

"Oh! Yes—I think that will be lovely!" said Polly.

"All right! Run up and tell the others to get their caps and jackets on. I'll telephone an agent and see what's good."

Polly ran out of the room, glad to have the problem of the evening's entertainment solved for her, but still she felt a little disappointed because Tom could so eagerly suggest taking the family out when she wanted to have a tete-a-tete with him to ask about the mines. Tom's plan about holding the temptation before a burro instead of surfeiting him with goodies, was evidently beginning to work.

The play was one of the most popular ones, and seats were in great demand. But money does anything in New York, so Tom secured splendid orchestra seats, and they reached the theatre just as the curtain went up on the first scene. The interior was darkened when they entered, and Polly could not tell who sat in front of her, until the first act ended and the lights were turned on.

Tom sat beside her, and began whispering in his free western voice, when a young man seated directly in front, turned deliberately around and stared at him. Polly gasped, and Eleanor nudged her in the side. It was Jack Baxter!

Without taking his eyes from Tom, Jack reached under the chair and got his hat. Then he dragged his coat over his arm, and got up. He bowed stiffly to the girls in Tom's party, and went out. Tom waited until he was gone, then he looked down at Polly.

"Um! It was high time I came East, I see!"

"Why?" was Polly's smiling rejoinder.

"By next Spring it might have been Tom who sat alone and felt like the fifth wheel in a wagon instead of Baxter. My, but I'm glad I came!"

Polly frowned, and Eleanor did her best to hear what was said between these two apparently phlegmatic companions. But Tom meant his words for Polly's ears only.

Once during the evening, when the light was so low that the theatre was almost dark, Tom changed his position in such a way that his arm rested over the back of Polly's chair. In his interest in the scene on the stage, his hand dropped carelessly upon her shoulder. And Polly was too engaged with the play to remove it, or even change her position to allow it to fall back again.

Then Tom moved, so that his arms touched hers, and his hand that rested upon one knee, could cover Polly's hand while the audience was enthralled by the burglar's escape, and no one but Eleanor had the slightest idea of what was going on in these two orchestra chairs. But Polly grew restive and tried to free her hand.

Then the lights went up again, and Tom moved away and said apologetically: "These seats are so cramped for such a great fellow as I am!"

And Polly replied tartly: "Yes, they really ought to allow more room for people's hands and arms."

Eleanor smiled wisely, and sent Tom a teasing look.

John Baxter did not come back to claim his seat that evening, and the play ended without Polly having given him another thought. Poor Jack!

After Tom reached New York, there seemed very little time for Polly in which to hunt up antiques in the country, or to attend sales that were advertised at various places. Then Winter weather set in, and that gave her the necessary excuse that the automobile could not travel in snow or mud.

All but Tom and Polly thought that Tom's plot to win Polly from her chosen profession seemed to be succeeding. But Tom felt that he had not had much encouragement as yet; and Polly was having a very nice time with an old friend she liked better than other young men, without feeling unduly indebted for the pleasure.

Although the Latimers lived uptown in New York, they saw little of Tom during the first weeks of his return to the City. He stopped at a hotel not far from the Fabian's place, and made duty-calls on his father and mother at regular intervals, but they understood what he came East for, and they wished him all success.

Time passed quickly, with a new pastime planned by Tom, for each day. And most of these pleasures included the other girls, as well as Polly. So the enjoyment was general, and Polly could not say that Tom tried to get her company for himself, by leaving her friends out of any fun.

December came in, and the Christmas season advanced, with Tom still leading a gay life and escorting the girls to every pleasure or entertainment they heard of; and Polly was still the kind little "sister" to him in every way, but nothing more.

Tom had selected his Christmas gift for Polly, but no one had been told about it. This he had kept absolutely secret. The Christmas Holidays came and all schools closed, so that the girls had no studies to attend to, and no art work to prepare. Jim Latimer and his chum Kenneth came home from Yale for the two weeks' vacation, and they immediately called on Polly and Eleanor.

Tom saw how gladly Polly welcomed Jim and Kenneth, and he began to wonder if she really preferred a young boy's society to his. Polly and Jim were about the same age—not quite eighteen, while he—Tom, was almost twenty-four. Such a decrepit old age!

The evening Jim planned to visit Polly and take Kenneth along for Eleanor, Tom, to the surprise of his parents, spent the entire evening with them; but he was not very attentive to what his mother said, nor did he seem over-pleased with being at home.

Jim and Kenneth were noisy, active young college boys, and they furnished lots of fun that evening, of the energetic, "center-rush" kind. But Polly was relieved when they had said good-night and were gone.

Eleanor laughed at the way Jim "rough-housed" both girls when he tried to kiss them good-night, and Polly indignantly told him he would never be invited there again! Jim laughed and caught hold of Polly to shake her for such a threat, but he smacked her loudly on the lips, instead.

As the two girls went upstairs to retire, Polly said: "I'm sure Jim wouldn't have acted so silly if his big brother had been here!"

Eleanor then added: "We have such lovely evenings with Tom, that this sort of horse-play gets on my nerves!" Then she slyly watched her friend's expression to try and read her mind.

"I wonder why Tom never came in tonight?" said Polly.

"Jack Baxter met me this afternoon, and he says Tom goes uptown regularly, to see a girl. Jack shadowed him and knows exactly where the girl lives. But he didn't say I must not tell you," said Eleanor, confidentially. Neither did she add that she had heard the address of this "girl" and knew it to be Tom's home and mother.

Polly flushed, but said nonchalantly: "Poor Tom! He feels awfully bored with us girls, at times!"

"I should think so! especially if he came home for a visit with the idea of finding a nice girl to propose to. Now Jack thinks that Tom, with his good looks, his wonderful intelligence, and his family-tree, to say nothing of the Latimer fortune, ought to be able to take his pick of any New York girl that is looking for an ideal husband," remarked Eleanor, guilelessly.

Polly flashed her a look. "Since when has Jack Baxter dropped his maligning of Tom Latimer, and started to admire him?"

Eleanor bit her lips to prevent a smile, but she replied, innocently: "Why, Jack always did admire Tom, even when he met him at Pebbly Pit. But he is jealous of him, for all the admiration he has for him. But I'll tell you, Polly: I wouldn't trust Jack in a case of 'love or war.' He'd as soon make Tom believe you were in love with another man, as anything else, if he could win a point by it."

But Eleanor over-stepped her ambition this time. Polly quickly replied: "Then Jack must be trying to 'win a point' when he got you to tell me that Tom was calling on another girl, uptown."

Eleanor realized her error and had common sense enough not to endeavor to explain it away. She merely said: "Oh well, Tom is too handsome a fellow to be wandering about New York these nights without a guardian. Some wide awake girl is going to snap him up the first chance!"

"Seems to me, Nolla, that Tom has been wandering about since he arrived in the City, with a whole bevy of guardians to keep him from snares and pitfalls. With all of us girls surrounding him, a fine chance any other girl could have found to snap him."

Eleanor was evidently getting worsted in her well-meant plan to further Tom's case, so she wisely decided to keep still.

Nothing was heard from Tom the next day, although Polly was sure he would call, or telephone, before evening. Then the telephone did ring, but it was Mr. Dalken, inviting the entire family over to his apartment for a party that evening.

"Just an impromptu affair, you know, with some of our old friends coming in to spend the evening."

Mrs. Fabian accepted for herself and husband, and said she would see if the girls had any engagement. She came back to the living-room where they were waiting for dinner to be announced.

"Are you girls going out this evening, or have you any engagement at home?" asked she.

Nancy shook her head, and Eleanor replied: "For a great wonder, we haven't a blessed thing on for tonight! First evening free in months!"

"Mr. Dalken wants us to come over and join some old friends, just for a nice visit," ventured Mrs. Fabian, looking from one girl to the other.

"Fine! Anything but sitting here staring at Polly's concerned face," retorted Eleanor.

Mrs. Fabian smiled and went to answer Mr. Dalken, but Polly sat up and asked Eleanor what she meant by that.

"Oh, ask yourself, Polly, you've been mooning around all day looking like 'Gottschalk's Last Hope.' One speaks to you, and you never hear what's said. The very house could burn down but you'd never know it. You'd roast without feeling any sensation in it!" declared Eleanor, impatiently. Nancy laughed at both girls.

After dinner, while the girls were dressing to go to Mr. Dalken's, Eleanor went to Polly's room to be hooked up. When she saw Polly arrayed in one of her most fetching Paris dresses she stood and stared.

"Why! we're not going to the Opera!" said she.

"We're going to Mr. Dalken's, aren't we?" asked Polly.

"Yes, but Jack won't be there—nor Tom, either," was Eleanor's smooth reply.

"I hadn't thought of who might be there, I dressed for my old friend, Mr. Dalken. He is so correct in these matters, so I want to do justice to his friendship," Polly scored this time.

Eleanor did not wait to be hooked up but rushed back to her own room, and when Polly met her again, down in the hall, she had changed her gown, also, and looked very attractive, indeed.

Because of the delay occasioned by Eleanor, the Fabian party was late in reaching Mr. Dalken's. The other guests were already there, and to Polly's intense gratification, not only was Jack assisting the host for the evening, but Tom sat in one corner of the large living room, looking at a book of snap-shots taken by Mr. Dalken while out in the Rockies. So engrossed was Tom in the pictures, that he did not lift his head when new-comers were welcomed.

Polly glanced over at the corner and finding Tom so interested in mountain charms, while female charms abounded so near him, she felt peeved and smiled radiantly on Jack. Eleanor saw, and determined that she would not permit matters to go astray again, as she had taken such trouble to get Mr. Dalken to plan this impromptu gathering just to give Polly the opportunity to see both suitors together—to the advancement of one or the other's interest. Eleanor had no doubt that it would be Tom's advancement.

So she flirted outrageously with Jack, to the amusement of Mr. Dalken who understood how matters were with all the young people. Thus Eleanor was cozily cornered with Jack in the den, doing her utmost to make him forget Polly for the time being, when the Jap came to the living-room door and announced a new caller.



CHAPTER XIV

NECESSARY EXPLANATIONS

Eleanor was not to be seen when a young man came in the room and was joyously welcomed by everyone present. Tom Latimer had disappeared also, a short time before this, and Polly was sitting in the wide seat built in the window, staring out over the roofs of the buildings without seeing a thing.

The delighted exclamations from those in the room, however, drew her attention, and she was rejoiced to see Paul Stewart shaking hands with those crowding about him. So Polly left her shadowy retreat and ran over to welcome him, too.

Paul was saying: "Isn't it too jolly of John to send me East for the Holidays, by making me power-of-attorney for the Stock-holders meeting the first of January. That was the only way I could have come—by having my fare paid!" Paul laughed because they all knew of his financial problems, and how he was striving to win success that he might propose to Eleanor.

Polly felt annoyed because she was sure Eleanor had led Tom to the den that she might advise him further in his love-affairs. And it was this interference by Eleanor, that roused much of Polly's indifference or impatience towards Tom. Now she felt she had been given a good opportunity to square accounts with her chum.

Paul and she were standing alone for a moment, when she saw him looking about for someone. She gave the desired cue: "You'll find Nolla with Tom, enjoying a tete-a-tete in Mr. Dalken's little den across the hallway, Paul."

As she watched Paul hurriedly excuse himself, she experienced a new sensation—that of gratified revenge on a friend. She walked about the room, apparently looking at the pictures, but really to reach the hall without attracting attention. Once she got out of the room, she made a dash for a shadowy corner made by an old ormolu secretaire between the two doors. She could see into the den and watch Paul's next action.

Two huge Turkish chairs were drawn up before the fire-place but the electric lights were out and only the candles on the tables near the door were lighted. The leaping flames of the logs burning in the fire-place threw dancing shadows over the two occupants of the chairs, but anyone standing near the door could not see who these occupants were.

Paul crept stealthily over to the chairs, planning to surprise his two old friends—believing Tom to be one, and Eleanor the other. He lifted his hands with the intention of clapping them over Eleanor's eyes to make her guess who was there, when he heard words that rooted him to the spot. Polly saw but could not hear, so she lost the best part of her retaliation on Eleanor.

Just as Paul was about to bring down his palms over Eleanor's eyes, a strange voice murmured intensely: "You know how I feel about it, Nolla. This love is so absorbing that I cannot give my attention to studies, or to any other important matter. If I am treated to second place, now that another lover is at hand, I will clear out of New York and never be heard from again. In fact, I am going to purposely throw myself in the way of danger and end it all!"

Paul realized that another man had found his treasure and had been encouraged, or why should he be saying "given second-place now that another lover is at hand?" And it was evident that someone knew of his, Paul's, proposed visit, as this young man knew of his coming to see Eleanor.

Such is the mortal's egotism! One never thinks of others in connection with a selfish hope or idea, but believes that anything seen or heard must appertain to that one thing. So Paul thought Eleanor was the love this young man referred to, and that she had given him second-place because of Paul's coming.

These thoughts flitted through his mind as young Baxter concluded, and Eleanor waited a moment before answering. Then she said with a sigh: "Dear Jack, a mild little flirtation never hurt any real case of love, and I've told you many times, that a game of love like this would improve or become fatal, because of such a flirtation. Like anti-toxin—it kills the germs or makes them wild so that no further doubt remains about the patient. Let's use the hypodermic courageously and watch results. If the love-germ dies, then go and throw yourself on the railroad track and end your troubles. But should the opposite effect result, you can always think of me as the specialist who advised the heroic treatment!"

Paul was shocked to hear his "angel-girl" talk of her love in such a dreadfully frank way, but the suitor's next sentence left no doubt in Paul's mind that Eleanor was a horrid flirt.

"Well, Nolla, you must know best. Paul has been in love with you for a long time, now, and you've had many young admirers since you came to New York; so you understand and appreciate my present position and my right to demand one thing or the other—either I am the accepted one, or the other man. Both of us cannot be kept dangling about, nor take turns in loving when the other is absent from New York."

Paul was distressed at hearing this—that Eleanor could accept the attentions of other men when he, Paul, was so hard at work out West, trying to succeed in his profession that he might offer her a suitable home! Now she was flirting with others, and this young man was heart-broken over her short-comings, even as he, Paul, was.

Polly saw Paul wheel and rush from the room, and immediately after that, Eleanor and Jack jumped up from the chairs and gazed at the door where the intruder had disappeared. When Polly saw who Eleanor's companion was, she gasped in astonishment, for she believed it was Tom sitting before the fire.

Had Polly hurried after Paul, to explain matters to him, all would have ended well that evening, but she went to the room where her wraps had been left and sat down to think out the problem. Meantime, Paul found Mr. Dalken and drew him aside to say:

"Don't ask questions, and don't try to stop me, but I am going away as quick as I can. I'm through with girls for all time. They're not to be trusted when a man's absent. I'm going to live for my mother, hereafter, and make her life happy."

Mr. Dalken was taken by surprise, because he had no key to this new puzzle, but he said: "Do wait, my boy, and have some refreshments with us. I have so much to ask you about the mine."

"No—no! I can't stay. The mine isn't my affair anyway, and I was a fool to coax John to give me power-of-attorney to come East for him. Now I'm rushing back and he can send Tom Latimer the affidavit necessary for the meeting in January."

"Now, now, Paul! You are a hot-headed young fellow and I feel sure matters can be explained quickly, if you will but wait!"

Paul scowled and stiffened his spine as he replied: "Mr. Dalken, I heard with my own ears, that Nolla is infatuated with another young man. She said, and I heard her say it: 'She was not certain which one of us she preferred but the test would show if she used a good dose of anti-toxin to help the germ! But I'm no 'second fiddle' even if that other fellow is! If a girl can't tell whether she loves me without using hypodermics to help her find out, then she's no wife for me! Maybe I'm a wild and woolly westerner from Denver, but believe me! we westerners never stand around waiting for a bit to be forced between our teeth."

Mr. Dalken could hardly restrain his sudden desire to laugh, but he averted his head for a moment and covered his face with a handkerchief until he composed his risibles, then he said: "Still, I am sure I can mediate in this case, Paul. Only stay and let me inquire."

"I guess not! No one can mediate between me and a flirt! I am through, I say, and I'm going home!"

So saying Paul thrust out his hand and Mr. Dalken had to take it. "Good-by, and say good-by to the others for me. This much I want you to do, as I will not see them again!"

Mr. Dalken went to the door with his excited guest and saw him go down on the elevator, then he rushed madly back to the telephone and ordered the man to detain the departing guest. Back to the den where he had seen Eleanor standing with Jack, was his next act, and dragging both out of the apartment and along the hall to the elevator, he pushed the button furiously.

While the wondering attendant was coming up, Mr. Dalken said: "What in the name of conscience did you two crazy creatures do or say to Paul Stewart, to drive him frantic?"

Jack stared in ignorance of what his guardian meant, but Eleanor gazed as if she thought Mr. Dalken had suddenly gone mad. The elevator stopped at their floor, and the man opened the gate. Mr. Dalken pulled his two companions on, and the man started down again.

All this time, Eleanor was speechless with doubt of Mr. Dalken's sanity but the elevator man turned to him and said: "The young man I just took down, refused to remain. He said he would arrest anyone who tried to detain him against his will."

Mr. Dalken ran his hands through his hair and rolled his eyes upward. Turning to Eleanor he hissed: "What did you say to Paul to make him act like a man in torment?"

"Paul! Are you crazy, Mr. Dalken?" asked Eleanor, fearfully.

"No, but you must be to throw over such a sweetheart. You'll wait a long time before you get another like him, even though I do like Jack immensely, and will further his case when he meets the right girl. I'm sure you are not the right one, and you ought to know it, from what you told me yourself, yesterday. Can't you see that Jack thinks he loves Polly, just because she won't have him?"

"Of course I understand!" retorted Eleanor, but annoyed that her plot to bring Polly and Tom together again was exposed.

"Then why in the name of heavens did you send Paul away believing it was you that Jack wanted?"

Before an answer could be given, the elevator reached the ground floor and the man quickly opened the doors. Out in the vestibule the telephone-operator was button-holing a young man and using every persuasion to detain him.

Jack Baxter had never seen Paul so he did not recognize him now. But Eleanor did, and she stood stock-still in such surprise that Mr. Dalken ran ahead without her.

"Paul, Paul! I knew you had made a mistake. Eleanor is here to explain everything," said he, taking the place of the amazed servant.

"What can she explain that will change my opinion of her?" scorned Paul, sending a cold look at poor Eleanor.

"Nolla, come here, Paul wants you to explain," begged Mr. Dalken, beside himself.

Her first surprise at finding Paul Stewart in New York and in the house, passed over and Eleanor forgot Jack and everything else, as she rushed forward to welcome her old sweetheart.

"Paul—Oh Paul! When did you come?" cried she.

But Paul's haughty stare stopped her when she was not ten inches from him. He turned to Mr. Dalken and said: "Now that you've broken your word with me, you had best explain."

"I broken my word! I never gave my word to anything that is broken. Remember, Paul, you may be a hot-headed impulsive youth, but you cannot make such sweeping accusations without grounds for them. I am so sorry for you in your disappointment that I will excuse you this time, however, and explain for your benefit, that I caught hold of Jack and Nolla after you left and dragged them down here without 'breaking my word' as you claim, or any other unhonorable deed. Unless you consider getting at the truth is unprincipled." Mr. Dalken was stern and dignified in his self-justification, and Paul had the grace to flush uncomfortably.

Eleanor was standing, uncertain of what was best to do in this strange meeting. She had felt over-joyed a moment before, to find Paul there, but now she wondered why he was so angry, and why he had not waited to greet her, as long as he had been up in the apartment. Baxter, not feeling at home in this group, turned and asked the man to take him up again.

Mr. Dalken had not seen Jack leave again, so he turned to call him, but found he had disappeared.

"Nolla, what did you say to Paul when he met you?" demanded the older man.

"I? Why, Mr. Dalken, I never knew Paul was here. The first hint I had of something unusual was when you rushed in to drag us downstairs."

Mr. Dalken was puzzled so he turned to Paul. "Then why did you say Nolla was a flirt and had made a fool of you? I thought she met you and began to tease, as she does everyone."

"There was no need of her saying anything to me, as I heard her tell, when she was not aware of my standing behind her chair, that the young man she was with might prove to be the accepted love after all." Then Paul repeated the substance of the talk he had overheard between Jack and Eleanor.

As he concluded, Eleanor laughed hysterically and held out her hands to Mr. Dalken beseechingly. "Oh, dear Dalky! Can't you see how Paul misunderstood everything! I was speaking of Jack's case with Polly, and advising him in regard to Tom. I know Jack is not seriously in love with Polly, but he fancies himself so, because Polly is so attractive and indifferent to him. As Jack has always been flattered and made love to by society girls, this unexpected attitude of Polly's piqued the boy. I did my best tonight, to show all three of these silly young things where they stood in this serious matter. And to think, I got myself in hot water for trying to help my friends!" Eleanor unexpectedly broke out in sobs and leaned her head against Mr. Dalken's shoulder.

Paul began to accuse himself for being a brute, and Mr. Dalken patted Eleanor's head and said comfortingly: "Never mind, Nolla dear. You'll learn by bitter experience that the more one interferes in these love tangles for the sake of helping friends out of their troubles, the more our friends detest us and we end in falling into snares ourselves."

"Um—don't I know it now!" wept Eleanor, in a muffled voice, because her mouth was hard against her comforter's coat.

Paul stood uncertain of what to say or do. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and glanced around, but always brought his wandering eyes back to Eleanor's shaking form.

An interruption, in shape of the entrance of some merry tenants of another apartment, suddenly caused Mr. Dalken to lift Eleanor's head and hurry her, with Paul, into the reception room at one end of the main hall. Here they sat down to have an understanding.

When the facts were fully revealed, Paul was as grateful to Mr. Dalken for restraining him in his plans to run away, as Eleanor was for his hasty removal of her from upstairs, to the hall downstairs. And poor Mr. Dalken was most grateful to find he had made peace between two disturbed young hearts. He got up and said: "Let's hope you won't curse me in the future, for this reconciliation. And for goodness' sake! Let me get upstairs to my guests, and help Taki serve refreshments, or the oysters will be ruined with stewing, while the wonderful French patties I got from Del's, will be cold and clammy."

Eleanor laughed, and beckoned Paul to come up again. So the grinning elevator man carried them up and very considerately accepted the tip Paul slipped into his palm as he stepped from the lift.

The Japanese butler had not waited for Mr. Dalken, however, and was passing the famous patties and sandwiches when the three absent members of the party entered again, and tried to act as if nothing unusual had happened.

Polly had witnessed Paul's flying departure, and thereafter saw Jack and Eleanor astounded in the darkened library. When Mr. Dalken rushed in and dragged them both away, Polly stood open-mouthed and stared after them. The Jap wisely hurried forward and carefully closed the front door, then went back to his duties without showing that he had seen the queer performances of his master, or found Polly standing there, the single witness of the scene.

Polly still stood in the hall deeply perplexed, when Tom sauntered from Mr. Dalken's bedroom where he had been smoking a cigarette to steady his nerves. Now he joined Polly and began a conventional phrase, but was suddenly interrupted by her.

"What does all this silly behavior mean?" demanded she.

"Do you refer to my behavior?" asked Tom, blandly.

Polly's eyes snapped. "Of course not! Must you always think yourself first and foremost?"

As this was an unexpected and undeserved slap for Tom, he was still groping for a clue, when Polly's angry impatience with herself for having made such a blunder in her calculations about Eleanor and the others, made her exclaim:

"Well, I can plainly see that Nolla will never make any sort of a business partner for me! Her foolish head is so turned by beaus, that she will never settle down until Paul has either spurned her love, or she is married and divorced again. Then there may be hopes of her attending to our work."

As Tom was not aware of Paul's sudden appearance and hasty departure, he still pondered what was best to say to Polly, in her unusual pettish mood. But she paid no heed to his silence and continued, like most women will when they have been mistaken, and fear the consequences of an ill-advised step.

"I declare! if Paul does come back and makes up with Nolla, I shall move heaven and earth to see that they are safely engaged this time! And that Jack Baxter, well, I'll make Dalky ship him off to some distant college so there'll be no further wasting of valuable time with him!"

This last declaration so over-joyed Tom that he found courage to offer a suggestion. But he was too unwise this time. "You're absolutely right, Polly dear. That Baxter has nothing better to do than kill time. He never did a stroke of work in his life, nor did his father before him. Those young 'lady's men' who live on their ancestor's rewards of labor, never amount to a row of beans."

Polly stared freezingly at Tom, but he was completely mesmerized with the romantic picture he was presenting, and so he continued oblivious of his companion's expression.

"We'll send Baxter flying, after this, and help poor Paul to hold his place with Nolla. I'll wire Paul to fix it so he can come East for Christmas, and surprise Nolla. Then we'll all announce a double engagement, eh?" Tom turned to watch Polly's face as she surely must second his plan, but he changed his mind when he saw her frown. "As usual, Tom, you're much too late in your brilliant ideas. Others are ahead of you. Paul has been here tonight and gone again, and Nolla will never have any engagement to announce—if she waits for Paul's declaration.

"As for me! My announcements are being engraved now."

Tom caught his breath in consternation at this news. "Your announcements, Polly! Oh, and you jilted me, after all!"

Polly enjoyed turning the knife in the wound, because she felt so wretched herself for having ruined Eleanor's happiness.

"I could not jilt anyone who never proposed, could I? I have maintained for a long time, and everyone who knows me is aware of it, too—that I am engaged to my profession and I have ordered my announcements to that effect. I propose sending out my business cards the first week of January!"

The relief to Tom was so great that he sighed aloud: "Oh, thank heavens for that!"

"I knew you would be glad, Tom; so you see you are sensible after all, and can thank heaven that you had no cause to be jilted!" laughed Polly, maliciously, but she felt no satisfaction in this outcome of her understanding with Tom.



CHAPTER XV

MUTUAL CONSOLATION

It was at this point in Polly's independent speech that the door opened and Mr. Dalken came in with his two repentant lovers. Tom saw that the clouds had been dispersed and now there seemed to be a clear sky for Paul. But he was curious to hear what had happened during the short time he had been smoking that cigarette.

Polly also saw Paul return with Nolla, and when she saw the happy smiles on both faces, she groaned, and turned to go to the library where, so little time before, the tragic lover had escaped with a determination to never look at another girl as long as he lived—excepting his mother.

Tom followed Mr. Dalken to the dining-room to learn the particulars about the two individuals who had meekly followed the host back to the apartment; while Polly sank down in one of the Turkish arm-chairs recently occupied by the two plotting match-makers.

Mr. Dalken rolled his eyes ceiling-ward and complained: "I can't understand why I should be chosen by Providence to act as peace-maker between jealous lovers, or quarrelsome husbands and wives. It is one of the most thankless jobs a man can have."

Tom laughed in spite of his eagerness to be told the details. "Maybe it is because you have so much feeling for heartsick mortals," said he.

Mr. Dalken looked serious. "Yes, Tom my boy, you spoke the truth there. If anyone knows the misery caused by fools and faithlessness, I'm that one. Perhaps that is the reason I can mediate for my friends."

"I was going to ask you to mediate for me, with Polly, but I haven't the heart to ask you, now," ventured Tom.

"Why, you big ninny, I've done nothing else but try to mediate between you two for the past two years. If matters haven't reached a crisis by this time, I'd better give up the case and let you get a specialist," exclaimed Mr. Dalken.

"Tell me exactly where I stand now, and I'll excuse you from further annoyance on my part."

"Great Scott, Man! Can't you tell where you stand? How can I judge. You surely don't want me to propose for you, do you?"

Tom couldn't afford to feel indignant, as he had to ask his friend what had happened to Paul and Eleanor, during his temporary absence from the others. So Mr. Dalken told as much of the story as he had been able to understand, concluding with the admonition: "Now that Jack can't wile away time with Nolla, he will, doubtless, turn his full attention to Polly."

That was the only malicious remark the poor man permitted himself to indulge in. But Tom took it seriously and said: "Thanks awfully, for the hint. I'll keep after Polly myself, until Baxter gives up the chase." And with that he hurried away to find Polly.

He found Paul and Eleanor sitting in the deep window-seat where Polly had been the early part of the evening, and as he wandered about for a glimpse of his "Heart's Desire," the Jap came over with a tray and said:

"Mis'r Tom look fer supper? Taki keep nice patty for him."

Jack Baxter was near enough to hear Taki, and he laughed jeeringly as he said: "Oh, what a fine man you are, Taki! You know exactly what your master's guests are wanting—patties or Pollies!"

Taki grinned but failed to grasp the young man's meaning. Tom did, however, and leaving the oyster patty on the tray, he stalked across to Jack and said, threateningly:

"How dare you speak like that? Mentioning Miss Brewster's name in the same breath as an oyster patty or a poll-parrot."

But the truth of the matter was, Jack had never meant to convey the meaning, when he said "Pollies," that he spoke of parrots. So he instantly took the stand of the offended one.

"How dare you even hint at such an insult to a friend of mine? I consider Miss Brewster too far above either you or me to discuss her with you, about such matters."

Wise Taki had disappeared quickly and in another moment the harassed host came hurrying from the serving board. He glowered upon Tom and Jack, and grasping each one by the arm, he hustled them out into the main hall of the building and then spoke.

"You two bullies go down in the street and fight it out. I'll do you the favor to ring up the police station and call a cop to come around and take you both in custody—that's where you belong, until you come to your senses. If I were a girl I'd never look at either of you again."

But this advice cooled their anger, and the moment Mr. Dalken turned to go back to his apartment both men laughed at the situation. Tom offered his hand and Baxter shook it. Then each apologised to the other, and in a few minutes they started for the door of the apartment.

But the door was locked, and, in front of it on the mat, were two small heaps: one was composed of Tom's coat and hat, with a patty and sandwich on a wooden plate, on top of it. The other small heap was Jack's dress-cape, with his silk hat topping it, and in the hat, were his gloves and the plate with refreshments. His cane hung on the door-knob.

All the bell-ringing Tom indulged in, thereafter, failed to bring any answer. So the two young men, highly amused by their host's farewell act, ate the scanty refreshments handed out, and then left the two wooden plates in front of the door, with a note on each. The pencilled scrawls said: "Two hungry beggars thank the rich man who threw them the crumbs from his table."

After they had gone down to the ground floor, Jack said: "I'll try to get Dalken on the telephone and ask him to send us down enough company to keep us from going to sleep in the reception room."

Tom laughed and stood eagerly waiting to hear the reply. But the operator smiled and reported: "Mr. Dalken called down a few minutes ago, and said that he was not at home to anyone—not even to friends—until tomorrow morning."

So the two chagrined young men left, and whatever they did during the next few hours, no one ever knew, but from that evening both forgot their rivalry and became fast friends. Jack suddenly decided to go West and finish his engineering studies in the mountains about Pebbly Pit. And Tom decided to make one last stand for Polly, and should she still refuse him on the basis that she must finish a business experience first, then he would knuckle down to hard work and forget all about her, forever.

It was easier for Jack to carry out his purpose than for Tom to leave New York and forget Polly. But Jack managed to do as he had outlined, and before Christmas Day he had said good-by and was on his way to Denver.

Tom spent so much time and preparation before the mirror in his room, perfecting himself in the art of proposing to Polly, in such a way that she would be impressed, that he became quite self-conscious of his pose and words. On Christmas Day, he planned to coax her away by herself, and then fall upon his knees and tell his story. He had a magnificent solitaire in his pocket, waiting to be displayed at the right moment.

No one saw Tom all that Christmas morning, although his friends called on the telephone, both at his home and at the hotel. He did not reply to any calls. But late in the afternoon he sauntered forth from his room, looking more like a silly dandy than a big sensible young man who was one of the best engineers in the West.

He got in a taxi and gave directions. In front of Mr. Fabian's house, he paid the driver and went up the steps. After he had rung the bell, he felt in his pocket to make sure the ring-box was there. This was about the twentieth time he had assured himself.

The maid opened the door, and looked sorry for him.

"Miss Polly? Are the ladies in?" stammered Tom.

"No'm—no-sir, I mean," returned the maid, confused at his certainty of finding them at home. "They went out an hour ago, after tryin' to get you on the 'phone. They says they won't be back till after midnight, sir."

"Did they say where they were going?" asked Tom.

"No'm—No-sir! But I hear'n Miss Polly talk to someone on the 'phone and she says: 'Oh how lovely! We'll all go with you. And we'll meet you there for dinner,'" repeated the maid. "You see, I was openin' th' door to take more presents for the young ladies, so I hear'n that much of the talk from the table 'phone in the back hall."

Tom thanked her with a sinking heart, and turned away. Once more his fingers mechanically felt for the ring box but he experienced no thrill this time, when he found it was safe.

He walked slowly cross-town and recklessly passed over Broadway with its traffic in full swing, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The officer shouted to rouse him from his apathy, but it failed to work.

He reached the park and found a bench. There he sat down without looking at the seat. A frantic boy ran over and yelled: "Get up, mister! Get up—you'se sittin' on my Chrismus candy!"

Tom got up as mechanically as an automaton, but a few of the gummy candies clung to his coat-tails, while the boy fearful of losing such treasure ran after the man to pick off the sticky sweets.

When he found another bench that was clear, and no boys nearby to worry his soul, Tom sat down and sulked. Having practised so faithfully all that day, in adding the finishing touches of grace to his lesson of proposing, it was a bitter dose to find all his work was wasted. Polly had joyfully accepted someone else's invitation to go away and have a good time, leaving him alone and heart-broken.

Sleet and drizzle began falling, and Tom was soon soaked through, but he was heedless of clinging clothes and wet shoes.

After an hour of self-pity, he got up and started down the drive. By this time he was almost frozen, but he congratulated himself on the fact that he might have pneumonia and die. Then Polly might feel sorry for her coldness!

Following the suggestion this idea presented, Tom wilfully waded through the slush in the gutters, and thoroughly drenched his patent-leather shoes in crossing the streets, until his feet were not only wet but freezing inside the shoes.

He found a cheap restaurant where the show-windows displayed baskets of artificial fruit; and as a center-piece of this decoration, there was a great block of ice holding up a dressed goose, with red holly twined about it.

Tom detested quick-lunch places where the steam satisfied a man's hunger, the moment he came in contact with its heavy odors, but he reveled in this evening's opportunity to be a martyr, so he sat down and ordered corn-beef and cabbage because he loathed it.

Although he could not eat much of the delectable dish he had ordered, he was determined to finish his day accordingly. So he ordered Neapolitan ice-cream and coffee. The ice-cream was served with the tissue paper still wrapped about the cake—to prove that no hands had been in contact with the dessert before serving it. But the highly colored stripes of the soapy cream that refused to melt, even when he dropped a spoonful into his oily coffee, cured him of further martyrdom to the cause of love.

He hastily got up from the table, paid his ticket and ran out. By this time, he felt so sick and chilled that he gloated in the assurance that soon he would be in a raging fever. He pictured Polly's regrets when she should return home at midnight and hear that he had been taken to a hospital, with a fatal case of double pneumonia. He had decided on having it double, after he left the restaurant, as that would kill him sooner. In this state of mind he had to dodge a taxi and slipped to fall into a mud puddle.

But Tom could not resist the desire to see his mother once more, before he died; and after fighting off this inclination for another hour or two, he was feeling so perfectly awful, that he knew his last call had come for him.

He had been sneezing every few minutes for the past hour, and his eyes were running like twin rivers. His nose was so stuffy that he could hardly enunciate the words, when he told a cabby to "Ta-ge me to sig siggy-sig West End Avenoo."

During the short time he was in the cab, he could not breathe, and he had to keep his mouth open to be able to inhale any air at all. He paid off the taxi, and went to his mother's apartment. Before he could change his mind about calling, he had pushed the bell-button.

He heard someone coming down the hall, and at the same time a door in front opened and the laughter and noise of many merry voices reached him as he stood waiting on the doormat.

"Good evening, Mr. Tom—a merry Christmas," said the maid, smilingly.

"Goo' ebeneeg, Kadrina," mumbled Tom, scowling as he looked towards the front room whence came the merry-making.

"Don' dell anyone I'm here, but dell Modder I'm sig and wand do see her ride away," explained Tom, snuffingly.

"You got a bad cold in your nose, ain't chew?" said Katrina, sympathetically.

"No!" shouted Tom, furiously. "I god'da case ob double pneumonia!"

Katrina jumped at the unexpected shout, and hurried to the front room to call her mistress. Instead of remembering to keep Tom's presence a secret, she whispered loud enough for Polly to hear:

"Mr. Tom jus' come in an' his nose is red as a beet. His eyes is runnin', too, an' he needs a atmosizer to blow in his head, to clear out the snuffles so's he kin open his lungs, widdout keepin' his mouth open all th' time."

Instead of fainting with horror as Tom had pictured she might, Polly laughed at Katrina's description, and Mrs. Latimer smiled and turned to her guests to excuse herself, by saying:

"Tom just came in, poor boy, with a stuffy cold in his head. I'll put his feet in mustard and see that he drinks a hot glass of doctored lemonade, then I'll be back."

So Tom, instead of bidding his mother an eternal farewell and dying alone and abandoned, as he had planned, in a hospital ward, was soon made to scald his feet in hot mustard water, while his mother's flannel kimono replaced his bedraggled clothing, and a heavy blanket was wrapped about him, and he was offered a nasty drink of lemonade, but what else was in it other than lemon only his mother knew!

By this time he felt so wretched that he cared nothing for solitaires or fiancees; all he wanted was to get one good long breath through his nose once more before he choked to death.

His mother had returned to the merry-making in the parlors, and Tom sat huddled in his unbecoming bedding in his mother's dressing-room. Every few minutes he had to use Katrina's "atmosizer" for his nose, or gasp for breath.

Just as the perspiration began to pour out of every pore, and his feet felt like scalded lobsters, and the vaseline his mother had smeared in his eyes and over his nose, to void any chaffing, had been trickled all over his face, Polly tiptoed into the room that opened to the dressing-room where he sat.

He held his breath, fearing lest she hear him gasp and find him in this awful predicament. He could not see her after she closed the hall-door, but he wondered what she was doing. At this moment, a tickling in his nose began and he knew it portended a sneeze! He must prevent it, or Polly would track him down. If she ever saw him in this condition, after all his hard study to propose gracefully, he would take poison!

But the sneeze was imperative, and it burst forth in such an explosion, that Polly screamed faintly from just behind the door of the little room.

"Go'way! I won'd see anyone," commanded Tom.

"But you'll let me come and see how you are, won't you, Tom dear?" coaxed Polly, appearing at the open door.

"No! You above everyone. I'm goin' to a hozpidal as zoon ads the ambulance gomes, and I never wand to zee any ob my frien'z again. I'll leave word no one ids to gome to my funeral, eider."

"Tom, dearest, don't talk like that! Where have you been today, to catch such an awful cold in your head?" said Polly.

"Id'z my lungz, I dell you! Double pneumonia. Leabe me to my fade, and forged me, Polly!" tears rose in his eyes at this pitiful picture of his lonely demise.

But Polly was practical, and stubborn to a degree. She refused to go, and when Mrs. Latimer came back, she told her that Tom ought to be in bed and given a great big dose of quinine—then he'd be all right in the morning.

"That's exactly what we planned to do, Polly," said Mrs. Latimer. "I sent Katrina to the drugstore for the pills, just now. But you run back and enjoy yourself, dear, as you can do nothing for Tom. He's like all men—as grouchy as a bear with a sore head, the minute anything ails them."

His mother laughed, and Polly stood smiling. Tom fumed. "Was this all the sympathy he was to win for his self-appointed martyrdom?"

Just as he had lost the last vestige of hope in life, Polly said to his mother: "I haven't seen Tom before, today, to wish him a merry Christmas and to give him my present."

"Oh!" ejaculated Mrs. Latimer, wisely, and slipped from the room, closing the hall door very quietly after her.

Tom opened one eye and began to wonder if it was worth while—this living business? When Polly smiled so angelically upon him, in spite of his ludicrous pose and appearance, he thought he might make one more trial of temporal existence.

Then Polly said, "I am sorry I could not reach you by telephone today, Tom. I had a little surprise for you, that I'm sure you will like. Shall I show you now?"

"Maybe it ids egsadtly wha'd I wads plannig to ags you?" said Tom, sitting up with interest, and forgetting the tub of hot water with his feet slowly par-boiling in it.

"Here it is. Isn't it neat and business-like?" said Polly, as she handed him a small paste-board card.

Tom read:

"POLLY BREWSTER DECORATOR NEW YORK CITY Representing Ashby Shops, New York and London."

Tom's shocked surprise at the unexpected announcement, so different from what he had expected, rendered him speechless for a full minute. During this pause, Polly patted his damp hair just as she might have patted her brother John's head, or a faithful Newfoundland's shaggy dome. This latter was Tom's thought.

The gentle touch, combined with his resentful feelings about the business announcement, made him lose all self-control. He was so furious that he could not find his voice, and if he had, his words would have been unintelligible because of the head-cold. He sprang up from the chair, forgetful of his blanket swaddlings, and the large basin in which his feet were still immersed.

He lifted his hand above his head in a melodramatic way of denunciation, but the tragic effect was completely ruined when the porcelain basin began slipping across the hard-wood floor. He wildly threw out both hands to clutch at something for support, but the low chair he had occupied was not near the dressing table nor any other article of furniture in the room.

Polly tried to save him from a fall, but he threw off her rescuing hands; and thus he was falling to his ungraceful finish, when he managed to free one foot and planted it on the rug as a balance. But the basin with its wet porcelain bottom kept sliding ever farther away, and Tom still rolled in the swaddling robes suddenly sat down unceremoniously upon the floor.

Polly faintly screamed when the basin overturned and the mustard water ran in numerous streamlets across the waxed wood and center rug. Just at this critical moment, Mrs. Latimer came back to give her son the dose of quinine.

"Why, Tom! Why are you sitting on the floor?" asked she, in amazement.

That was the last straw. Polly had to smother a laugh but Tom flared out and the thick denunciations of all the female sex, particularly western girls, would have driven such a girl mad with anger. But Polly understood her friend too well to believe a word he said.

Even while he still hurled every expletive he could remember and try to enunciate, Polly sprang over to help Mrs. Latimer raise the beswaddled young man back into the chair. He fought off her assistance, but she stubbornly held on to his arms until he was seated in a proper position once more.

Then she said: "Tom dear, I'm so sorry you have had such a wretched Christmas Day. Had we but known you had such a cold we would have called and taken you home with us. But now that Christmas is over, and I haven't had time to say a word to you, I'll just whisper that, as a sort of late greeting: 'If I don't find anyone I like better than you, during the next two years, I'll make a partnership proposition to you.'"