ON SATURDAY A MESSENGER WAS SENT WITH THE PRECIOUS BOX
It was hard to wait for Valentine’s Day, but, as Betty had much to do getting ready her other valentines to be dispatched, the time flew quickly. Jack also had many to send, and as, except for the dress, Betty need make no secrets of hers, they spent the afternoon of the thirteenth together in the library, addressing the pretty missives.
“This is a beauty!” said Jack, holding up a lovely affair of gilt latticework, which, if you pulled a cord, burst into a mass of flowers and birds. “I think I’ll send this to Jeanette Porter. She’s one of the nicest girls we know, don’t you think so, Betty?”
“Yes, I do. She and Dorothy Bates are my dearest friends, and they’re coming over this afternoon, so let’s get theirs out of the way first.”
“All right. I’ll send this one to Dorothy. She’s a jolly girl, but Jeanette’s my choice. She’s so quiet and pretty-mannered.”
“I’m fond of Jeanette myself, Jack,” said Betty; “and—oh, here they come! Slip theirs in here, quick!”
They whisked the valentines into a table drawer, just in time to escape the eyes of the girls as they came in.
“Hello!” said Betty, gaily. “We’re addressing valentines. As there aren’t any here for you two, you may look at them all you like. I hope you’re not expecting us to send you any!”
“Oh, no!” said the visitors, laughing, for well they knew they would all send valentines to each other.
“Isn’t it jolly that Valentine’s Day comes on Saturday?” said Dorothy. “I shall sit on the lowest step of the staircase all day long to be ready to fly to the door every time the bell rings.”