CHAPTER XIV
AN EXCHANGE OF HEARTS
“Look who’s here,” and kindred expressions, with frank comments on her idea and costume, greeted Betty at the beginning.
“There are some other ‘valentines,’ but none quite like yours,” said one gypsy, who wore an arrow caught through her belt, a silver one in her hair, and large red hearts sewed on her flowing sleeves.
Almost every one had on some emblem that recognized the day. Some of the boys had made themselves into clever representations of comic valentines, but Betty thought that Kathryn must have changed her mind about being one, as she could not find among them all any of Kathryn’s height. As to features, Betty had been sure that she could tell; but among so many shifting figures it was confusing. In general, there was the usual conglomeration of different characters.
Once Betty caught her breath at the appearance of a pirate, for all the world like the “Pirate of Penzance.” But while the costume seemed identical, so far as Betty remembered, after all, Marcella might have lent the costume. And when the young man drew near, whoever it might be, it certainly was not Larry. Well, of course. It had been silly to half expect—and hope—to see him.
There were compensations, however. She did not lack attention and she thought that she had been able to “fool” Chet, whom she had recognized by his laugh first. Her own voice she kept low and had practiced on a different laugh, though when amused she could not keep it up and smothered her natural laugh with her handkerchief. Even that was gay with hearts. She had seen it in a show window a week before and rushed in to buy it.
Guessing who people were was great fun and Marcella had something planned for every moment, it seemed. A tall clown announced the games, or what came next in the way of program. He wore a placard on his back that declared “I am Your Valentine.” That, certainly, could not be Larry. His fun would be more—um—elusive!
And now some musicians arrived. Betty happened to glance out of the window and saw them stamping snow from their feet and shaking the flakes from their hats. Their taxi must have delivered them outside, instead of bringing them around the drive inside the grounds, a natural mistake, perhaps, since the distance to the street was not great. And how it was snowing! Betty liked it, the beautiful dark and white rays from the lights, near or distant.
Inside, some one relieved them of coats and hats at once, and the bulky instruments in their cases were disposed about the hall, until they disappeared while a last game was going on, only to take their places in a palm-decorated corner near the piano, tune their instruments and start to play. Instantly feet began to tap in time to the measures, and some of the boys and girls began to dance in couples.
Betty’s feet fit snugly in the high-heeled shoes of her mother’s that matched the costume. They were none too comfortable and Betty thankfully sank into a big over-stuffed chair recently vacated, refusing an invitation prettily and deciding to rest first. But one could stand anything if it were fun, and when in a short time colonial square dances were announced, lo and behold, who should walk up to Betty, with an engaging, somehow familiar smile and an exaggerated, old time bow, but the duplicate of the picture upon her valentine!