"All right! I'll see that he gets the invitation. What shall I order for dinner?"
"Nothing, papa; I have everything ready for our expected guest, so don't let him disappoint me."
"Hum-m! there's something up, sure enough; though I can't see through it yet," he said to himself as he walked thoughtfully away.
"So far, so good," said Dexie, sotto voce. "How I wish I could have seen Shadrach when he opened his valentine this morning!"
Dexie would have felt satisfied that her shaft had struck home had she seen Plaisted when he had "taken in" the contents of his valentine.
He had stepped into the office to mail Gussie's valentine, and was much surprised when a beautiful envelope was placed in his hands. It held something very sweet and delicate, no doubt, and as he turned aside he pressed it to his lips.
Observing the name of Shadrach, he felt sure it must have come from Gussie; no one else knew his second name, so she must have sent this sweet love-token. It was hardly fair to write out his name in full; but, of course, it was only done to make known the identity of the sender. He thrust it into his pocket and hastened to his hotel, where in the privacy of his own room he could enjoy it without interruption. The loving words he expected to find were certainly there, yet as he read them a dark frown gathered on his brow:
"Dear Danuel Shadrach! thy valentine speaks,
While the rosy red blushes surmantle her cheeks;
And the joys of requital brings tears to her eye.
Now, Shadrach! my Shadrach! I'm yours till I die.
"The heart that was scornful and cold as a stone,
Rejoices to hear the sweet sound of your name;
Farewell to the miseries and griefs I have had,
But I cannot forget them! dear Shadrach! my Shad!
"Dear Shadrach! my Shadrach! my troubles are o'er,
My name in its fulness you'll whisper no more;
Or your own sweet cognomen will make you feel sad,
For I hold the whip-handle! Oh Shadrach! my Shad!"
Mr. Plaisted read the lines over several times before he comprehended their meaning, or understood what connection the absurd picture had with them; but when the whole force of the matter struck him, his rage was uncontrollable. He crumpled the valentine in his hands and threw it with all his force towards the fire, but in his anger he aimed too high, and it struck against the wall and bounced back at him, as if those hateful words were hurling themselves at him.
"Ha! if I only knew who sent that, I'd—"