I’ll be your valentine.
“Kine are cattle—in poetry—you know, Uncle Hank,” she explained hastily, as she saw he had finished the verses. “And I put in a note to tell why I had to give it to you now, instead of on Valentine day.”
He turned the sheet and found:
“To My Dear Uncle Hank:
“This is a Valentine only it is Christmas you know and I have nothing to give you but my love because the Necktie is at Mesquite and it Snows. But you will understand and I can get it then.
“Your loving little girl,
“Hildegarde Rensselaer Van Brunt.”
With misty eyes, the old man was reading: “Nothing to give you but love ... but you will understand....” He folded the sheet together, and bent to kiss the upraised childish face.
“Nothin’ but love—why, Pettie, that’s a gift to fill the whole—wide—world!”