"Please, ma'am, it's flowers. Should I open them?"
Mademoiselle smiled. She remembered valentine offerings of her own.
"You may be excused to attend to the flowers, Miss Weston. Come back as soon as possible."
Cynthia took the big, square box and fled to her room. Her prophetic soul told her what the contents would be.
She removed the wrapping and the lid. A gust of fragrance sweetened the room. The blonde head went down over the flowers and the pretty face was hidden in them. Then Cynthia lifted from the box a great mass of long-stemmed single violets, and with fast-beating heart read the legend on the little valentine tucked among the blossoms.
"Love's offering," said the valentine.
Cynthia quite forgot to go back to the French class; and when, at the end of the period, Amelia, Laura May and Blanche burst in upon her, she was still sitting with the flowers in her lap and the card in her hand.
"Cynthia quite forgot to go back to the French class"