MORE WAYS THAN ONE. 151

* Poll Perkins!”

“T’m Poll Higgins, at your service.”

“And I’m a plated pedler—I1 mean a silvered agent —
dear me! let me in, and I’ll tell you what I am.”

So Mrs. Poll Higgins let her in, and Beeb told her what
she was, and why she was, and all about it.

“That ’s the best joke of the season,” said Mrs. Poll.
“Why, I’ll buy your silver-plating!”’

“ For domestic use,” began Beeb, glibly. “ Nothing dele-
terious in its composition. Will plate silver, copper, bronze,
etc., in five minutes. Truly, Poll,’’— the dignity of the agent
broke down here, — “I’m not a cheat, and it is #’¢ asell, nor
a wash, nor anything dreadful. You need n’t plate up your
old steel knives. It’s made to clean your best silver with.
Silvers it right over, and so much easier than silver-soap |”

“ Beeb,” said Mrs. Poll, “I shall die laughing. You'll
make your fortune, see if you don’t. To think of it!”

Beeb thought very well of it when Mrs. Poll bought the
First Bottle, and paid for it, cash down. Beeb thought better
still of it when Mrs. Poll put on her hat and ran over to a
neighbor’s with her and her bag and her bottles, and in-
troduced them all into the parlor, and she thought best of it
when she found that she had sold Bottle No. 2, and been let
out of the front door besides.

Her spirits were up now, and she took leave of Mrs. Poll
and ill-luck together, and canvassed the town till tea-time
bravely and volubly. By tea-time she had sold Bottle No. 6.