“Let’s see it, Betty,” suggested Doris, who with a lapful of her own valentines was sitting near. The girls had come home together from school.
Betty took the valentine from her mother to hand to Doris. “I think it a little hard,” said she, “to think that the family has to know all about these tender messages of love!”
“Well,” said Doris, “I’m not so sure but this one does mean something. Who knows whom Betty’s charms may not have smitten in the East this summer? Confess, Betty. Who’s in New Haven?”
“I told you, several. That’s enough, Doris. Turn about, you know—I’d love to see that big one of yours. And please hand mine back.”
“Just a minute, Betty. It is a peach of a valentine:
“My heart is yours,
And yet, dear me,
I keep old-fashioned
Courtesy.”
Doris properly read “courtesee” to make the rhyme. “I’m glad he’s properly respectful,” laughed Doris, handing Betty her valentine. “I’ll give you mine in a minute.”
Mrs. Lee’s smiling eyes met Betty’s for a moment, and Betty let hers fall with a toss of her golden head. “They’d better mind their manners,” said she. “Oh, here’s one from Janet, I know. It’s her writing, and dear old Sue—and Auntie—and Grandma. How nice to have friends!”
“Betty,” said Mrs. Lee, “your valentine has given me an idea. Why not go to the party as a valentine. Wear my colonial costume and paste this valentine to a bag, or your fan, and have some other cunning trappings that will be like valentines.”
“Mother! You perfect dear! Do you mean that you will let me wear that splendiferous costume? Oh, but it would be just the thing and all my worries about fixing something would be over!”