Polly in New York. Roy Lillian Elizabeth

at me, all the time. But I don’t care, so! These horrid painted things are not nice!

      “If I hadn’t set my heart on being an interior decorator, I’d take up lecturing, and teach these crazy New Yorkers how to look and enjoy a simple life.”

      From the above account you can see how one day’s experience in New York impressed the girl of the Mountain Ranges in the West.

      Polly, accustomed as she was to the overstocked store in Oak Creek, where shelves were stacked high with all sorts of merchandise, opened her eyes as Anne led her into a quiet parlor-like room that opened directly from Fifth avenue. She stared around for a glimpse of the gowns she expected to see; but nothing like one was to be seen. The dignified lady who met Anne, and a few other well-dressed women who conversed in low tones with each other, did not look like Polly’s idea of shop-girls.

      Anne’s lady conducted them to a lift, and they shot up two stories. Again they came out into a lovely lounging-room, but still no sign of dresses. The lady pushed a button, and another woman hurried in.

      “Measurements of this young lady. She will need several gowns for afternoon and street wear; possibly, an evening dress.”

      Then Polly was scientifically measured, and in a short time a number of models were brought for her inspection and approval. These were placed upon forms, and every desirable detail of the gowns was pointed out to Anne and the girls.

      “Oh, I just love that one, Poll!” cried Eleanor, gazing with rapt eyes at an imported model.

      “Isn’t it clumsy at the back? And see how narrow the bottom of the skirt is. Maybe they didn’t have enough goods to make it any wider?” commented Polly.

      Eleanor giggled but Anne explained to Polly. The saleslady seemed not to have heard the western girl’s objection to the gown.

      Then it was tried on Polly, and she saw how very becoming it was. But when she endeavored to walk over to the full-length mirror, she almost fell down upon the rug.

      “Mercy, Anne! I never can amble about in this binder! Get me something sensible,” complained Polly.

      But Eleanor liked the dress and as it fitted her, also, she said she would take it as long as Polly didn’t.

      “Take it and welcome, Nolla! but I pity you if you try to scoot over the crossings of Fifth avenue in that skirt,” laughed Polly.

      Other gowns were brought and Polly finally found several that she liked, with wide enough skirts to suit her comfort. Then Anne asked for the bills. The list was added up and when the total was mentioned Polly almost fainted. If she had not been seated, she might have crumpled to the floor.

      “We’ll take that gown with us, the others you may send,” said Anne, taking up the one to be wrapped. Then she gave the name and address where the other dresses were to be sent. A fat roll of yellow bills now came from Anne’s hand-bag, and she paid the enormous sum – or, at least, Polly thought it was enormous for so few dresses.

      Safely out of hearing of the fashionable sales-ladies, Polly whispered: “Anne, you paid hundreds of dollars for those things!”

      Anne nodded, smilingly. Eleanor said: “Why, that wasn’t much for what we got, Poll. The dress I bought is imported! And a model, at that. It was a bargain at that price.”

      Polly sighed. Would she ever be able to accommodate herself to such a changed life as this one now seemed to be? Her friends laughed at the sigh and expression of doubt on her face.

      As Anne led her protegées past the hotel desk, a very polite clerk said: “A ’phone call for you, Miss Stewart, at five-ten P. M.”

      Anne was handed the slip and read: “Mr. Latimer called up. Said he would call again at six-thirty.”

      “Maybe he wants us to go somewhere, to-night!” suggested Eleanor, eagerly.

      “Well, you won’t go to-night, if he does ask you. It’s bed at nine, for everyone of us, because we have a hard day of house-hunting before us, to-morrow,” decreed Anne, courageously.

      But Eleanor was given no cause to argue that evening, for Mr. Latimer called up to invite them all to go to the Mardi Gras at Coney Island the following evening. He said the Evans and Latimers would call at the hotel, in two cars, about six o’clock and take them to supper at the Island.

      “Oh, goody! I never saw Coney Island but I’ve heard so much about it!” cried Eleanor, dancing about the room.

      “I have read how dreadful a place it is,” ventured Polly.

      “That’s another point of view, Polly. If you go down there to enjoy the fun and games, and see the ocean, then you will have nothing but frolic and sea. But if one is in quest of crime, then it can be found festering there, just as it is in every other section of a large city,” explained Anne.

      “But we are only going for a frolic,” added Eleanor.

      “I should hope so!” Polly said, so fervently, that Anne had to laugh heartily.

      After dinner that night, Anne said: “I think Polly ought to see a sight that no other city can offer – that is the wondrous advertising signs on Broadway about Times Square, at night.”

      “I am too weary to go out, daughter, but you take the girls,” Mrs. Stewart remarked, so they hurriedly donned their hats and gloves.

      When they reached the famous corner of Forty-second street and Broadway, and stood at the uptown side of Times Square Triangle to look at the lights, Polly was speechless.

      “Why, it’s as bright as day, everywhere,” whispered she.

      “And just see the moving ads. up on the roofs!” cried Eleanor, delighting in the scene.

      “I thought there were hordes of mad folks on the streets this afternoon, but this beats everything!” exclaimed Polly, watching both sides of Broadway from her vantage ground. “Honestly, Anne, do they not act obsessed, jostling and rushing as if Death drove them? They never seem to mind trolleys, autos, or policemen. They swirl and fly every which way, regardless of everyone and everything.”

      “I just love this excitement!” sighed Eleanor, smiling.

      “Well, I hope to goodness we will live far enough away from all this to let me forget it once in a while,” said Polly.

      “Oh, you’ll love it, too, pretty soon,” Eleanor said, confidently.

      “Never! This is Bedlam to me. When I write home about it, I shall tell father that it reminds me of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah when fire and brimstone fell and destroyed those cities. I bet the folks never acted any wilder, there, than these New Yorkers do, here.”

      Anne laughed at Polly’s vivid disgust, and suggested that they return to the hotel.

      “Oh, no, Anne! It is only eight-thirty. And for New York that only begins an evening, you know. Let’s get up on top of one of the buses on Fifth avenue and take the round trip. That ride will show Polly lots of sights: the Flat Iron Building, Riverside Drive and the Hudson, and heaps of things.”

      Eleanor prevailed, and after a delightful drive of an hour, the little party was glad to get to the hotel and drop into bed.

      CHAPTER II – HOUSE HUNTING IN NEW YORK

      Before the westerners awake to the new day, let us renew our acquaintance with them.

      Polly Brewster, of Pebbly Pit, born and reared on that wonderful ranch in Colorado where the lava-jewels were found, is for the first time in her fourteen years, away from home. As she is at the most impressionable age, her wise mother authorized Anne Stewart, the young teacher who had spent the summer with the Brewsters and who was engaged to John Brewster, to spare no money when fitting Polly out for her life in New York. Mrs. Brewster wished Polly to feel herself the equal of anyone she met, if it pertained to dress. And style was about the only thing that Polly lacked, having all fine qualities in her character.

      Eleanor Maynard, of Chicago, now Polly’s dearest friend, never had to count the cost of anything,