[Illustration:  Arthur decorates the valentines with his new paints while mother writes the verses.]

“Aren’t they bee-u-ti-ful,” he exclaimed as he laid them in a row on the dining-room table.

“They are very nice, dear,” mother said, “and which do you think are the prettiest ones?”

Arthur looked a long time at the row of little valentines and then he said, “These two.”  One had a little curly-haired child carrying a big bunch of flowers in her hand, and the verse read: 

    “This bunch of roses I’m bringing,
      Is a valentine for you,
    To show that in storm or in sunshine
      My love is always true.”

And the other valentine had a picture of two little boys carrying a big basket between them, and this was the little verse: 

    “What do you s’pose our basket holds? 
      Give guess one and two. 
    You’ll never think, so I must tell: 
      It’s full of love for you.”

“And to whom are you going to give the two prettiest ones?” asked mother.

An earnest look came into Arthur’s eyes.

“I fought I’d send the little-girl one to that lame boy at the corner.  I don’t know him very well, but he looks kind of lonely, you said, mother.  Don’t you s’pose he’d like it?”

Mother nodded.  “And who is to have the other?”

A little hand stole into mother’s, and two brown eyes full of love were lifted to mother’s face.

“That is for you,” he said.

* * * * *

“Bob’s lost his temper.”

Uncle Will, visiting in the family, heard this remark quite often.  One day he said to Bob: 

“I think it rather a fortunate loss, don’t you?”

“What?” asked Bob, in surprise.  “It wasn’t a very good one, you know.  If I were you I’d try to get a better one, and then never lose it.”

Good advice for Bob.

* * * * *

GOING ALONE.

“I’m afraid will have to go alone this morning, Harlis,” said mamma.  “My head is getting worse instead of better.  You think it will be all right for Harlis to go, don’t you, papa?”

Mrs. Wentworth looked up inquiringly into the face of a tall man who had just entered the room.

“Certainly.  He is big enough, and knows the way.  Why not let him go?” her husband answered.

Harlis was quite proud to hear that opinion, and adopting something of his papa’s emphatic tone, he said, “Of course, I’m big enough, mamma.  Willie Nelson goes every single Sunday alone, and he isn’t only two weeks older than I am.  You needn’t worry a bit.  I’ll take Esther, too, if you want me to.  I’ll take care of her.”

Mamma smiled a little as she answered, “No, dear, I thank you just the same, but Annie will take care of Esther this morning.  If I let you go alone, you must promise to go straight to Sunday-school.”