ST. VALENTINE’S DAY
It was the thirteenth of February; to-morrow would be St. Valentine’s day; and the children were as busy as bees preparing valentines. They were as merry, too, as they were busy; all except Annie—little Annie, the delicate one, the pet of the family. While the others were skipping and jumping about as they did up their valentines, and eager and noisy, as it is the nature of children to be, Annie sat on the hearthrug, with her hands clasped round her little knees, staring into the red fire; and her pale face looked quite old and wan from trouble.
I was very hard at work directing the envelopes for the children, while they clamoured and clustered round me; but looking at our dear little girl’s wistful face, I took advantage of a moment’s respite from my work to go and ask her what it was that seemed to trouble her so much.
“Oh, auntie,” she said, as she began to cry, “it is because Jack has taken my darling Tip away from me.”
Tip was a nice little Scotch terrier that belonged to Annie’s cousin, Jack, who had been staying for two or three weeks at Annie’s home during his holidays. Tip had come on the visit with his master, and had gone away with him only that morning. But during those two or three weeks Tip and Annie had become dear friends and play-fellows.
“I had taught him so many pretty tricks,” continued Annie, “and he loved me so: I am sure, auntie dear, he loved me better than Jack.”
“But, darling,” I said, “after all Tip is Jack’s own doggie, and he is very fond of the little creature, you know, so of course he took him away with him. Now, dear, don’t fret any more, but try and be cheerful.”
Annie is a good little girl, and did try her best to be cheerful, I could see. She came to the table, and looked over the valentines with the others; but she had not forgotten her sorrows.
Presently, her little brother Tommy said to her,—“Annie, don’t you hope you’ll get a jolly lot of valentines to-morrow?”
“I don’t care,” sighed Annie, “unless Tip could send me one.”
“What stuff!” remarked Tommy: “Tip can’t send you a valentine, you know.”
“Well, he might bring me one, at any rate,” said Annie, “for I taught him to carry letters.”
Annie’s remark gave me an idea, and I formed a little plan, of which you shall hear the result.
The next morning—St. Valentine’s morning—as the children were at breakfast in the nursery, a scratching was heard at the door; and when it was opened, there appeared in the doorway—what do you suppose now? There was a little doggie, the very likeness of Tip, standing on his hind legs, with a valentine in his mouth. The valentine was addressed to Annie: and when I followed the little terrier into the room, and told her that not only the valentine, but the doggie too was for her—that I gave it to her to be her very own, she was more delighted than I can describe to you.
When I formed this little plan the day before, I had just remembered where a doggie, very like Tip, was for sale. I had bought him that very afternoon, and managed the surprise as you see. Annie very soon grew as fond of Charlie—that was the name of the little dog—as she had ever been of Tip.
