"Yes--but put your cape over you, it's so chilly to-night."
In a minute Cherry was back again, every single curl bobbing with excitement.
"Oh, Martie! Chi's bringing in something all done up in the buffalo robe, and March won't tell me what it is."
She was followed by March, who walked up to his mother, put both arms about her and gave her a quiet kiss.
"There, little Mother Blossom, is my valentine for you," he said half-shyly, half-proudly, and placed in her hands his first term's report and a set of books.
"Oh, March, my dear boy!" said his mother, rising from the table and placing both hands on the broad, square shoulders of her six foot specimen of youth, "I 'm afraid I 'm getting too proud of you. Did you get the first Latin prize?"
"You bet I did, Martie." March's rare smile illumined his face. "There is n't another fellow at Barton's, who can boast of such a mother as I have, and I was n't going to let any second-class mothers read those books before you did. By Cicky!" (which was March's favorite name for the famous orator)--"But I 've worked like a Turk, and I 'm hungry as a Russian bear. Why, Rose, what's the matter with you? You look awfully glum, and Hazel, too. Here comes Chi; he's bringing something that will cheer you up. The truth is, mother, these girls miss me."
"Indeed, I do, March?" said Hazel, looking straight up into his eyes and showing the amazed lad tears trembling in her own.
"Guess there 'll be some breakin' of hearts, this year, Mis' Blossom." Chi's cheery voice was welcome to them all for some unknown reason. He came in loaded with huge pasteboard boxes.
"Your arms will break first, Chi," said Mrs. Blossom, hastening with March to relieve him.