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"Yes, I guess so," replied Jane, smiling. "I love you better 'n anybody in the world, Jane." "And you'd choose me to be your valentine, then, wouldn't you?" laughed Jane. "Oh, yes, yes; and if I could only send you one of those po'try picture things, I'd send you the most bewt'f'lest I could find. Don't you wish I could, Jane?" "Yes, of course I do." "Did you ever have a valentine, Jane?"
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. The young man laughed. "How much money have you got?" he asked. Polly produced her bank, and triumphantly shook out its contents. "Oh," laughing again, "all that? How much is it?"
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.
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!"
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