Polly shook her head, and two more tears followed the first ones.
"You're not going to buy the paint-box?"
"N‑o, I—I gu‑ess not. I guess I'll buy the valentine. Jane didn't ever get a valentine, and she hasn't got anybody to give her one but me."
The blurring tears made Polly's eyes so dim here, she could scarcely see; but through the dimness she sent one last good-by look at the dear paint-box, and then resolutely turned to the valentines, from which she selected the biggest and "bewt'f'lest" she could find, the lady crowning her kindness by stamping and directing it, and finally mailing it in the letterbox just outside the shop door.
CHAPTER III.
"What yer watchin' for, Polly?"
Polly didn't answer.
"Guess I know," said Martha, laughing; "yer watchin' for the postman to bring yer a valentine."
"I ain't," said Polly.
Just then the postman crossed the street, and ring, ring, went the Home bell.