“Away down in the city,” Aunt Sara explained.  “Each one in a little white bed in a Children’s Hospital.  I don’t know their names, but I’ll send them to the superintendent, and they will get them safely on Valentine’s Day.  You can’t think how happy they will be.”

“Oh, I just like to try to think!” cried Millicent.  “I’m glad we made them so nice.”

The twenty valentines went off in their white envelopes the next morning.

On Valentine’s Day the postman brought Milly six from the six little girls and two from Jimmy-Boy and Aunt Sara.  They were lovely, and there were some for Jimmy-Boy, but they did not please the children nearly as much as a letter that came a week later.

It was from the hospital superintendent and said:  “I wish you could have seen my dear little sick girls smile when they saw their pretty valentines.  They looked at them all day and slept with them under their pillows at night.  One tiny girl kept hers in her hand.  They all send a big ‘Thank-you’ to Millicent and Jimmy-Boy.”

“Next year we’ll begin sooner and make forty,” Millicent decided; “it’s lots more fun than getting them, isn’t it, Jimmy-Boy?”

* * * * *

HAROLD’S SHETLAND PONY.

On Harold’s birthday Uncle George gave him a Shetland pony.

I never saw anyone so surprised as Harold was.  He thanked his uncle so many times that I thought Uncle George would be all tired out saying, “You’re welcome.”

The week of the Flower Festival here in Santa Barbara, where we live, Harold drove his pony in the parade.

The carriage was all covered with pink roses.  There were roses all over the canopy top, and all over the dashboard, and along the sides, and up the back, and on the seat where Harold sat.  And the pony had a collar of roses, and the roses were wreathed in the harness and wound in the wheels.

Harold enjoyed the parade very much, but he never thought of taking a prize till the money was sent to him.  He was as pleased as could be.

“What will you buy with the money, Harold?” I asked.

“Well, you see,” said Harold, “the money doesn’t really belong to me.  It belongs to the Shetland pony, and I would like to talk about what would be the nicest thing to do for the pony.”

So we all talked about it and decided that the nicest thing we could do for the pony would be to put a big screen window in the front of his stall, so he would not be troubled with flies.—­Selected.

* * * * *

FLO’S VALENTINE

    “I wonder where I’d better send
      This valentine.” said Flo;
    “It’s pretty, and my dearest friend
      Would like it much, I know.

    “My dearest friend is Nelly May;
      She’ll have a lot, I s’pose;
    She always does, for she’s a girl
      ’Most everybody knows.