Jeanie was turning it all over in her mind as she made Sandy’s bed
At last Jeanie heaved a deep sigh of relief. “There,” she said aloud, “it’s all ready now but the unvelope.” Whereupon she took from the family Bible a treasured envelope she had picked up in the street one day.
“It’s a perfectly good unvelope, all unstuck same’s a new one,” she said to herself “and a nice green stamp on it. All the matter is, it’s wrote on a little, but I can scratch that out all right.” And soon the second-hand envelope was ready and the letter tucked inside.
“I must go to school now, Sandy!” cried Jeanie, running for her coat and hat. “Mother’ll be home pretty soon. Good-by.” In a moment she was out of the door and hurrying to the mail box on the corner, where, standing on tiptoe, she dropped in the precious missive.
That noon, as Postman Green sat at dinner with his wife, he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I ’most forgot my valentine!” and he pulled from his pocket a sorry-looking envelope, directed to “Mister Postman himself.”
Jeanie, standing on tiptoe, dropped in the precious missive
“From one of my young admirers on Gregory Street,” he laughed, passing it to his wife.
Mrs. Green tore it open. “Why, it’s a letter,” she said, proceeding to read aloud: