On the thirteenth of February, Captain Farnsworth was busily engaged at his desk work, when Lena Richards came flying in at his doorway.
“Don’t scold!” she cried, by way of forestalling his objections to her presence; “I must talk to somebody, and it might as well be you!”
“It might as well be the President of the United States, and all his Cabinet, as far as I’m concerned,” and Farnsworth scowled at her, “but I’d rather you’d choose anybody than my unworthy self! What shall I do with you, Lena? You’re a little nuisance! Must I lock and bar the door to keep you out?”
“Now, now, don’t be cross to a poor little lonesome girlie, what hasn’t got anybody to consult. Lemme ask you a few questions, do!”
Lena was a wheedlesome creature, and quite in the habit of having her own way. She laughed at Bill’s frown and as she plumped herself down in an armchair, she spread out on Farnsworth’s desk a number of gay valentines.
“This,” she began, “is for Dick Selden. Isn’t it a dandy! And this one is for my own Daddy. Won’t he be surprised to get one?”
Lena chuckled happily, and looked up into Bill’s face for a show of approval.
She seemed only a child; her sixteen years sat lightly on her slim little shoulders, and her dark, winsome face was lighted with such a glow of happy anticipation, that good-natured Farnsworth couldn’t bear to speak shortly to her.
“All right, Baby,” he said, good-humouredly, “show me your valentines, and get it over with. Which one is for me?”
“Oh, that I haven’t here! Of course I wouldn’t show you that one!” A merry laugh rippled from the rosy lips. “And you’ll send me one, won’t you, Captain?”