“Lots of good you’d get out of the thermometer, then,” laughed the man.  “How do you suppose you could tell how hot it was, or how cold it was, if the thermometer hung in the sun all day?”

“I shouldn’t care,” breathed Pollyanna, her fascinated eyes on the brilliant band of colors across the pillow.  “Just as if anybody’d care when they were living all the time in a rainbow!”

The man laughed.  He was watching Pollyanna’s rapt face a little curiously.  Suddenly a new thought came to him.  He touched the bell at his side.

“Nora,” he said, when the elderly maid appeared at the door, “bring me one of the big brass candle-sticks from the mantel in the front drawing-room.”

“Yes, sir,” murmured the woman, looking slightly dazed.  In a minute she had returned.  A musical tinkling entered the room with her as she advanced wonderingly toward the bed.  It came from the prism pendants encircling the old-fashioned candelabrum in her hand.

“Thank you.  You may set it here on the stand,” directed the man.  “Now get a string and fasten it to the sash-curtain fixtures of that window there.  Take down the sash-curtain, and let the string reach straight across the window from side to side.  That will be all.  Thank you,” he said, when she had carried out his directions.

As she left the room he turned smiling eyes toward the wondering Pollyanna.

“Bring me the candlestick now, please, Pollyanna.”

With both hands she brought it; and in a moment he was slipping off the pendants, one by one, until they lay, a round dozen of them, side by side, on the bed.

“Now, my dear, suppose you take them and hook them to that little string Nora fixed across the window.  If you really want to live in a rainbow—­I don’t see but we’ll have to have a rainbow for you to live in!”

Pollyanna had not hung up three of the pendants in the sunlit window before she saw a little of what was going to happen.  She was so excited then she could scarcely control her shaking fingers enough to hang up the rest.  But at last her task was finished, and she stepped back with a low cry of delight.

It had become a fairyland—­that sumptuous, but dreary bedroom.  Everywhere were bits of dancing red and green, violet and orange, gold and blue.  The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the bed itself, were aflame with shimmering bits of color.

“Oh, oh, oh, how lovely!” breathed Pollyanna; then she laughed suddenly.  “I just reckon the sun himself is trying to play the game now, don’t you?” she cried, forgetting for the moment that Mr. Pendleton could not know what she was talking about.  “Oh, how I wish I had a lot of those things!  How I would like to give them to Aunt Polly and Mrs. Snow and—­lots of folks.  I reckon then they’d be glad all right!  Why, I think even Aunt Polly’d get so glad she couldn’t help banging doors if she lived in a rainbow like that.  Don’t you?”