“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.

“I told you so,” said Martha, as she ran down to answer it.  In a minute she was back again holding out a big square envelope, and saying again, “I told you so.”

“’T ain’t for me,” cried Polly.

“Ain’t your name Polly Price?”

“Yes,” faltered Polly.

“Well, here ’s ‘Polly Price’ written as plain as print.  Just look now!” and Martha held forth the missive.

Polly looked.  She could read her own name in writing; and there it was, sure enough, plain as print,—­Polly Price, and it was written on an envelope exactly like the one she had chosen to send to Jane.  A fearful thought came into Polly’s mind.  She had told the lady her own name,—­Polly Price,—­and it was Polly Price she had written on the envelope instead of Jane McClane.  Oh! oh! oh! and then Polly burst out,—­

“It ain’t mine, it ain’t mine, it’s Jane’s.  The lady made a mistake.”

“What lady?”

“The lady in the shop.”

“What shop?”

And then Polly had to tell the whole story.

“And that’s where you were after breakfast, you little monkey, breaking a bank, and running away with it, to buy Jane McClane a valentine.  Well, if this isn’t the funniest thing I ever heard of.  Jane!  Jane! come up here and show Polly your valentine!” And up came Jane, her face beaming with smiles, holding in one hand a big square envelope, and in the other an open sheet all covered with lilies and roses and cherubs’ faces; that very “bewt’f’lest valentine” that had been chosen for her.

Polly, staring at it in amazement, cried out, “Why, she’s got it! she’s got it!” And then, pulling open the envelope addressed to Polly Price, she stared in amazement again, and cried out, “Why, this is just like that one,—­the one I bought for you, Janey!”

And then it was Jane’s turn to cry out in amazement, to say, “You bought it; how did you buy it, Polly?”

“She broke a bank and ran away with the money,” laughed Martha.