"No; and that's a reason why it would be so specially nice to give her the pleasure of a valentine like yours."
"I wish somebody had sent her one," said Pet, thoughtfully.
"I don't suppose there is another in the world just like yours," said sister, smiling at Pet.
"Then she can't have one. What a pity!"
"She might have this of yours," suggested sister.
"But—then—I shouldn't have any," cried Pet.
"Oh yes, you would, and I'll tell you how," said sister. "You've had all the pleasure of getting it, and opening and reading it, already. That's yours to keep. Now, if I copy the verses for you on plain white paper, you can read them over as often as you like, till by and by you learn them by heart. When you have done that they will be yours for always; and, meanwhile, Lotty will have the pleasure of getting the valentine, opening, reading, learning, just as you have done—so you will get a double pleasure instead of one. Don't you see?"
"That will be splendid," cried Pet, joyously. "Poor Lotty, how glad she will be! And I shall have two pleasures instead of one, shan't I?"
"How nice," thought Blue, "to have given two pleasures already!"
Sister copied the verses, a fresh envelope was found, and Blue was sent on her way. When she was carried upstairs to Lotty's room, she thought it the pleasantest place she had ever seen. Sunshine was there—on the wall, on the plants in the window, most of all in Lotty's face, as she sat up in bed, knitting with red worsted and big needles. When Blue was put into her hands, she laughed with astonishment.