carried it out for her. She went about with a big basket to all the
markets and collected perfect specimens of vegetables with which to
make a centrepiece for the dinner table. The dinner was given in a
house where the round dining table would seat twenty-four guests. In
this ample centre she erected a pyramid of fruits of the earth. There
were crimson beets, pale yellow squashes, scarlet tomatoes, and the
long, thin fingers of the string-bean; potatoes furnished a
comfortable brown, which, together with the soft bronze of the onion,
harmonized discordant colours; and, crowning all, the silken tassel of
the red-eared corn raised its graceful crest.

The hostess was delighted with her table, and more delighted still
with the pretty decorator. Polly's fame flew from one to another
throughout that kindly and prosperous community, and she found herself
accumulating a goodly hoard. As Christmas drew near, many a perplexed
shopper came to her for "ideas," and all went away content. She had
long since discovered that the Colorado shops were treasure-houses of
pretty things. She never passed a jeweller's window without taking
note of his latest novelties; she kept an eye upon Mexican and Indian
bazaars, and Chinese bric-a-brac collections; she made a study of
Colorado gems, and knew where the prizes lay hidden; she ran through
the books in the bookstores; she was alert for new inventions in
harness decoration and bridle trimmings; she gave hints for fancy-work
of divers kinds.

Mercury, meanwhile, sped about the town, dispensing healing, as Polly
often reminded him, and "getting more than I dispense, Polly," he
would declare in return. "I feel so well that everything is a regular
lark!"

And so Dan made a "lark" of his work, and trotted all day in his
capacity of Mercury, little dreaming of the wealth that was
accumulating for his use; while Polly went on with her hoarding, of
which she made a great secret, and thought of a still better time
coming.

CHAPTER III

A MERRY CHRISTMAS

Of all Polly's new friends, not one took a warmer interest in the
young idea-vendor than that first customer of hers, Miss Beatrice
Compton. Miss Beatrice was a warm-hearted and enthusiastic girl, who
never did anything by halves; and when she talked of Polly, of Polly's
skill and of Polly's originality, when she extolled Polly's eyes and
Polly's hair, Polly's wit and Polly's sweetness, few listeners
remained quite unmoved and incu