“I don’t see how it concerns you,” I responded.

“Don’t you?  With me crazy about you for lo, these many years!  First as a baby, then as a sub-sub-deb, and now as a sub-deb.  Next year, when you are a real Debutante——­”

“You’ve concealed your infatuation bravely.”

“It’s been eating me inside.  A green and yellow melancholly—­hello!  A letter to him!”

“Why, so it is,” I said in a scornfull tone.

He picked it up, and looked at it.  Then he started and stared at me.

“No!” he said.  “It isn’t possible!  It isn’t old Valentine!”

Positively, my knees got cold.  I never had such a shock.

“It—­it certainly is Harold Valentine,” I said feebly.

“Old Hal!” he muttered.  “Well, who would have thought it!  And not a word to me about it, the secretive old duffer!” He held out his hand to me.  “Congratulations, Barbara,” he said heartily.  “Since you absolutely refuse me, you couldn’t do better.  He’s the finest chap I know.  If it’s Valentine the Familey is kicking up such a row about, you leave it to me.  I’ll tell them a few things.”

I was stunned.  Would anybody have beleived it?  To pick a name out of the air, so to speak, and off a malted milk tablet, and then to find that it actualy belonged to some one—­was sickning.

“It may not be the one you know” I said desperately.  “It—­it’s a common name.  There must be plenty of Valentines.”

“Sure there are, lace paper and Cupids—­lots of that sort.  But there’s only one Harold Valentine, and now you’ve got him pinned to the wall!  I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Barbara.  I’m a real friend of yours.  Always have been.  Always will be.  The chances are against the Familey letting him get this letter.  I’ll give it to him.”

“Give it to him?”

“Why, he’s here.  You know that, don’t you?  He’s in town over the holadays.”

“Oh, no!” I said in a gasping Voice.

“Sorry,” he said.  “Probably meant it as a surprize to you.  Yes, he’s here, with bells on.”

He then put the letter in his pocket before my very eyes, and sat down on the corner of the writing table!

“You don’t know how all this has releived my mind,” he said.  “The poor chap’s been looking down.  Not interested in anything.  Of course this explains it.  He’ s the sort to take Love hard.  At college he took everything hard—­like to have died once with German meazles.”

He picked up a book, and the charred picture was underneath.  He pounced on it.  “Pounced” is exactly the right word.

“Hello!” he said.  “Familey again, I suppose.  Yes, it’s Hal, all right.  Well, who would have thought it!”

My last hope died.  Then and there I had a nervous chill.  I was compelled to prop my chin on my hand to keep my teeth from chattering.

“Tell you what I’ll do,” he said, in a perfectly cheerfull tone that made me cold all over.  “I’ll be the Cupid for your Valentine.  See?  Far be it from me to see Love’s young dream wiped out by a hardhearted Familey.  I’m going to see this thing through.  You count on me, Barbara.  I’ll arrange that you get a chance to see each other, Familey or no Familey.  Old Hal has been looking down his nose long enough.  When’s your first party?”