tired of wondering at the changing moods that
played so gloriously upon that steadfast front.

"Seems as if they must almost see him from Fieldham this morning, he's
so bright," said Polly.

"That's so," Dan agreed. "I say, Polly, isn't he enjoying himself,
though?"

"Course he is!" Polly answered. "Isn't everybody?"

Then Polly went back to her splashing water and flopping dish-towels,
and was busy for an hour about the house. By and bye she sat herself
down in the little porch and proceeded to put good honest stitches
into a child's frock, for the making of which she was to receive
twenty-five cents. Not very good pay for a day's work, but
"twenty-five-hundred-million per cent. better than nothing," as she
had assured the doubtful Dan.

Life looked very different to her since those two bright words had
been added to the sign. Not that it had looked otherwise than pleasant
before; but there was so little originality in the idea of doing
needlework that it had scarcely merited success, while this,--of
course it must succeed!

In truth, she had sat there hardly an hour, when she distinctly heard
the occupant of a yellow buckboard read the sign, and then turn to her
companion with a word of comment. Polly had always had an idea that
one of those yellow buckboards would be the making of her fortune yet.
The one in question was drawn by a pretty pair of ponies, and two
young girls were in possession of it.

"I have an idea they'll notice it again, when they come back this
way," Polly surmised. "But if they're going up the canyon they won't
come back till just as I'm getting dinner."

And, sure enough, the mutton stew was just beginning to simmer, when
there came a rap at the door.

The front door opened directly into the little sitting-room, and was
never closed in pleasant weather. As Polly emerged from the kitchen,
her face very red from hobnobbing with the stove, she found one of
the girls of the yellow buckboard standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, Miss----"

"Fitch. My name is Polly Fitch."

"What a jolly name!" the visitor exclaimed. "I think you must be the
one with ideas."

"Yes," said Polly, "Do you want one? Come in and take a seat."

"I do want an idea most dreadfully," the young lady rejoined, taking
the proffered chair. "I want something for a booby prize for a
backgammon tournament. I don't suppose anybody ever heard of a
backgammon tournament before, but it's going to be great fun. We a