heaped up in a warm disorder, with large window tickets inscribed in

blazing red letters: "Cosy Comfort at Cut Prices," and "Curl up and

Cuddle below Cost." Regardless of the daylight he had turned up the

electric light on that side of the window to reflect a warm glow upon

the heap, and behind, in pursuit of contrasted bleakness, he was now

hanging long strips of grey silesia and chilly coloured linen

dusterings.

It was wonderful, but--

Mr. Polly decided that it was time he went in. He found Platt in the

silk department, apparently on the verge of another plunge into the

exterior world. "Cosy Comfort at Cut Prices," said Polly.

"Allittritions Artful Aid."

He did not dare go into the street for the third time, and he was

hovering feverishly near the window when he saw the governor, Mr.

Garvace, that is to say, the managing director of the Bazaar, walking

along the pavement after his manner to assure himself all was well

with the establishment he guided.

Mr. Garvace was a short stout man, with that air of modest pride that

so often goes with corpulence, choleric and decisive in manner, and

with hands that looked like bunches of fingers. He was red-haired and

ruddy, and after the custom of such complexions, hairs sprang from

the tip of his nose. When he wished to bring the power of the human

The History of Mr Polly