man replied, promptly acting upon the
advice. "You are Miss Polly Fitch, are you not?"

"Yes."

"I knew you the minute I saw you, because Miss Compton described you
to me." This was meant to be very flattering, but Polly, who seldom
missed a point, was quite unconscious that one had been made.

"Have you come for an idea?" she asked, quite innocently, and Mr.
Reginald Axton, who was rather sensitive, wondered whether she "meant
anything." On second thoughts he concluded that she did not, and he
began again:

"I got that booby prize you made."

"Did you?" cried Polly, with animation. "Oh, I wonder whether you
were the one--" she paused.

"The one that what?" he asked hastily.

"The one that thought there wasn't anything in the game."

"Well, yes, I was. And the others had all the luck, and so of course I
got beaten."

"Of course!" said Polly, with a twinkle of delight.

"I see you're on their side, but all the same I want you to help me to
pay them back. You see I wanted to do something about it, and I
thought of sending Miss Compton some flowers with a verse, and I
thought perhaps you could do the verse."

"Did you expect me to furnish the idea, too?"

"Why, of course! That's why I came to you. I thought, if you were so
awfully bright, perhaps you could make verses."

Polly looked thoughtful.

"I should charge you quite a lot for it," she said,--"much as a dollar
perhaps; for you know writing verses is quite an accomplishment."

"I'll pay a dollar a line for it! I know a fellow that gets more than
that from the magazines. And I'm sure that it will be good if you do
it."

"My gracious! that's great pay!" cried Polly, with sparkling eyes,
ignoring the compliment, but enchanted to hear what a price verses
brought. "I'll send it to you by mail."

"No, I guess I'll look in every once in a while and see how you're
getting on!"

"Dear me!" said Polly, "you don't expect me to spend a week over it,
do you? That isn't why you offered such high pay?"

"Oh, no; the quicker you got it done the more I should be willing to
pay for it." He paused a moment. "And, Miss Fitch," he went on, "I
don't care if you make it a little,--well,--a little soft. She
deserves it, she's such a tease! Her name's Beatrice," he added. "We
call her Trix, if that'll help you any."

Polly understood Mr. Reginald perfectly, and she dismissed him with a
twinkle which promised well. Then Polly proceeded to cudgel her
brain, while th