"It ain't the heft of 'em, it's the bulk. Valentines are generally pretty light weight. Romancin' 'n' sentiment don't count for much, nowadays, though they take up considerable room." He deposited the last box on the settle. "'N' there's a whole parcel of things come by mail. I ain't looked at the superscribin's--you read 'em out, Rose-pose."
Rose read the addresses; there was more than one missive for each member of the family.
"Let's have supper, first, mother," said March, "then, after the table is cleared, we can sit round and guess who they 're from."
This proposition was welcomed by Budd and Cherry. Rose and Hazel gave a cordial assent, but there was a frigidity in the atmosphere which the outside temperature did not warrant. Chi and March were aware of this so soon as they entered the room, and Mrs. Blossom had known it the moment she saw the girls' faces at the table. She thought it not wise to interfere, but let matters straighten themselves in good time. She felt she could trust them both to see things in their right light, without the aid of her mental glasses.
"Now let's begin," said Chi, rubbing his hands in glee as, directly after supper, he piled the boxes on the table while March laid the envelopes in their proper places before each member of the family. "This top one says 'Miss Hazel Clyde.' Show us your valentine, Ladybird."
"They 're violets--from Jack, I know. He always sends them. What's yours, Rose?" She spoke rather indifferently.
"Oh, roses!" Rose was having the first look all to herself. "The loveliest things I have ever seen. Look, Martie!" Rose held up the mass of exquisite bloom, and the children oh'ed and ah'ed at the sight.
"They 're from Mr. Sherrill," said Rose, trying to speak in a most common-place tone, but, in her excitement, failing signally.
"They are lovely," Hazel remarked, shooting an indignant glance at Rose. "They're just like the ones he sent Miss Seaton last year, only they were formed into a great heart. Papa gave me one just like it; he got his idea from Jack."
Rose suddenly put down the flowers, in which she had buried her face to inhale their fragrance, as if something had stung her.