“For Miss Jeanie Keith,” continued the postman, not seeming to hear, taking from his pack another envelope as big as the first.
“Why, that’s me!” Jeanie caught her breath. “And I wanted one awful. But how did you know?” The postman only smiled.
“By the way,” he said, as he turned to go, “I’ll be stopping again before long. There’s a Christmas box that ought to have been left here nearly two months ago. I’m real sorry I’ve neglected you all this while.” Then he hurried off.
Such valentines were never seen in Gregory Street before as were set up in the window of number twenty-seven that day, nor two such bright faces as peeped out from behind.
“Do you ’spose there’s anybody in the whole world as happy as we are, Sandy?” Jeanie asked a dozen times over.
“’Course not!” responded Sandy indignantly each time.
But they did not know about the little girl on a crutch in the fine stone house, who was brimming over with joy that day because she had adopted two little stranger friends, to be their valentine the whole year round.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.