dream you’re an heiress, and wake up counting your money out,” and had told her an heiress meant a girl with a bankful of money, like a flash of lightning came another thought into Polly’s mind,—­the thought that then and there from her little bank she might count the money to buy a valentine for her dear Jane; and once this thought had entered Polly’s head there was no putting it out.  Over and above everything it kept gaining, until it sent her to tugging at that red chimney.  Then suddenly the chimney that had stuck so fast gave way.

Polly nearly fell backward, it was so sudden; but righting herself, she shook the treasure into her lap, and fell to counting it.  She counted up to ten; that was as far as her knowledge of arithmetic went.  Putting aside the ten pennies into a little pile, she began to count the rest.  “One, two, three,” she went on until—­why, there was another pile of ten, and more yet; and the “more yet” counted up to five.  Polly couldn’t “do sums.”  She couldn’t add these two piles of ten and the “more yet,” and she couldn’t ask Jane or any one else in the house to do it for her.  But what she could do, what she would do, was to slip the whole treasure back into the bank, and take it around to the shop on the corner, the shop where she had seen the paint-boxes, and where she was sure she should also find plenty of valentines.  So getting into her little coat and hood, she scampered out and off, unseen and unheard by any of the household.  It was rather terrifying to find several other customers in the shop, but she had no time to wait until they had left, and, going bravely forward, she called out, “Please, I want a valentine.”  But the clerk was busy, and paid no attention to her; so she pressed a little nearer, and piped out again in a louder tone, “Please, I want a valentine.”

But even this did not succeed in getting his attention.  Oh, what should she do!  Perhaps in another minute Jane or Martha or Mrs. Banks would have missed her, and be hunting for her; perhaps they would be sending a policeman after her.  Oh dear! oh dear!  And summoning up all her courage, she cried out in a voice full of sobs and tears, “Oh, please, please, I want a valentine right off now this minute!”

“Don’t you see I’m busy now?” said the clerk, sharply.

But the lady he was waiting upon had turned and looked at Polly as she spoke, and immediately said to the clerk,—­

“Oh, do attend to the child now.  Her mother has probably told her to make haste.”

“She hasn’t any mother.  She’s one of the children at the Orphans’ Home,” replied the clerk in a lower tone.

“Oh!” And the lady started and looked at Polly with new interest, and then insisted still more earnestly that she should be attended to at once, at the same time beckoning Polly to come forward.

Polly obeyed her; but as she glanced at the cheap little five-cent valentines the clerk put before her, she shook her head disdainfully.  “I want a bigger one; I want the bewt’f’lest there is,” she informed him.