“Dreaming over old love letters, I suppose,” said Dick. “Isn’t that what girls are supposed to do in attics?”
“Old love letters, indeed! I don’t get any now, let alone having any old ones. How old do you think I am, Dick?”
“Seems to me it’s several years that certain persons of what Grandma calls the male persuasion have been coming around here, off and on.”
Betty said nothing to this, but made her apologies by asking the family to help her conjure up a proper costume for the important party, only two days off. “Tomorrow is the thirteenth,” said Betty, as if something of the utmost importance was approaching. Indeed it was, for not always did Betty get invited with the older boys and girls to a full party of them. But a healthy appetite and a fine dinner had great effect in making the present pleasant. The chocolate cake melted in the mouth and Father had stopped to bring ice cream to go with it.
Then, on the morrow—which became today—came the answer to Betty’s problem, through a valentine which came from—New Haven. The handwriting was disguised, Betty thought, at least it was not like that of the only two people who might have sent it to her. It was most likely to have come from Larry, and oddly enough, Betty felt disappointed, lovely as the valentine was. But its coming meant that he would not be here, of course.
Arthur Penrose was in Philadelphia now, but he sometimes visited Larry, with whom he had become quite good friends, and might possibly have been in New Haven. Matters of trains and distances and all that sort of thing were more or less hazy in Betty’s young mind. Anything could happen, and after all, couldn’t it? Arthur’s letters were only occasional now, but very friendly.
So she was in a pleasing state of uncertainty over the sender.
“It came on the morning mail, Betty,” said Mrs. Lee, who had noted the postmark and saw that Betty opened it first before several others from friends away from town. Valentines from friends in the city were likely to arrive on the day itself.
“Look at it, Mother,” said Betty at that, handing the large square of dainty white and colors and figures to Mrs. Lee. “I believe it is the prettiest one I ever saw. Look at that darling old-fashioned couple with Washington Birthday costumes, just beginning one of those square dances, and Cupid shooting darts straight at them!”
“He leads her out as if he likes her, doesn’t he?” said Mrs. Lee, “and the verse is good, though rather too much of a declaration. However, that it permitted on St. Valentine’s day. As your natural guardian, I am wondering who could have sent it!”