“Yes, I think so,” and Herron laughed, too.
“How ridiculous you are! Why, I’d just as lief send that as not!”
“Go ahead, and do it, then. Prove your words.”
“Will you buy it for me, at a goodly price?”
“Whatever the saleslady asks.”
“All right. What’s the price, Maisie?” Greatly amused, the gay little sales-girl said, “Ten dollars, sir.”
A little daunted, but true to his word, Herron paid the price, and took Patty to the library, where there was a desk made ready for any who desired to address and despatch their missives then and there.
Patty wrote Farnsworth’s Washington address, and Herron held out his hand for the envelope.
“I’ll mail it as I go home,” he said, and Patty gave it to him.
The whole incident made little impression on her, for though she didn’t particularly admire the valentine, nor did she care for the so-called “poetry” on it, yet, at the same time, it meant an extra ten dollar bill in the coffers of the committee, and that was well worth while.