Heard the sound from afar,
And hastened to comfort her child;
‘What aileth my John?’
She inquired in a tone
Which belied her question mild.
“‘Oh, Mother,’ he said,
‘Every tooth in my head
Jumps and aches and is loose, O my!
And it hurts me to eat
Anything that is sweet –
So what will become of my pie?’
“It were vain to describe
How he roared and he cried,
And howled like a minature tempest;
Suffice it to say,
That the very next day
He had all his teeth pulled by a dentist!”
This valentine made the children laugh for a long time.
Johnnie’s envelope held a paper doll named “Red Riding-Hood.” These were the verses:
“I send you my picture, dear Johnnie, to show
That I’m just as alive as you,
And that you needn’t cry over my fate
Any more, as you used to do.
“The wolf didn’t hurt me at all that day,
For I kicked and fought and cried,
Till he dropped me out of his mouth, and ran
Away in the woods to hide.
“And Grandma and I have lived ever since
In the little brown house so small,
And churned fresh butter and made cream cheeses,
Nor seen the wolf at all.
“So cry no more for fear I am eaten,
The naughty wolf is shot,
And if you will come to tea some evening,
You shall see for yourself I’m not.”
Johnnie was immensely pleased at this, for Red Riding-Hood was a great favorite of hers.
Philly had a bit of india-rubber in his letter, which was written with very black ink on a big sheet of foolscap:
“I was once a naughty man,
And I hid beneath the bed,
To steal your india-rubbers,
But I chewed them up instead.
“Then you called out, ‘Who is there?’
I was thrown most in a fit,
And I let the india-rubbers fall –
All but this little bit.
“I’m sorry for my naughty ways,
And now, to make amends,
I send the chewed piece back again,
And beg we may be friends.
“ROBBER.”
“Just listen to mine,” said Cecy, who had all along pretended to be as much surprised as anybody, and now behaved as if she could hardly wait till Philly’s was finished. Then she read aloud:
“TO CECY.
“If I were a bird,
And you were a bird,
What would we do?
Why you should be little and I would be big,
And, side by side on a cherry-tree twig,
We’d kiss with our yellow bills, and coo –
That’s what we’d do!
“If I were a fish
And you were a fish,
What would we do?
We’d frolic, and whisk our little tails,
And play all sorts of tricks with the whales,
And call on the oysters, and order a ‘stew,’
That’s what we’d do!
“If I were a bee
And you were a bee,
What would we do?
We’d find a home in a breezy wood,
And store it with honey sweet and good.
You should feed me and I should feed you,
That’s what we’d do!
“VALENTINE.”
“I think that’s the prettiest of all,” said Clover.
“I don’t,” said Elsie. “I think mine is the prettiest. Cecy didn’t have any seal in hers, either.” And she fondled the little seal, which all this time she had held in her hand.
“Katy, you ought to have read yours first, because you are the oldest,” said Clover.
“Mine isn’t much,” replied Katy, and she read:
“The rose is red, the violet blue,
Sugar is sweet, and so are you.”
“What a mean valentine!” cried Elsie, with flashing eyes. “It’s a real shame, Katy! You ought to have had the best of all.”
Katy could hardly keep from laughing. The fact was that the verses for the others had taken so long that no time had been left for writing a valentine to herself. So, thinking it would excite suspicion to have none, she had scribbled this old rhyme at the last moment.
“It isn’t very nice,” she said, trying to look as pensive as she could, “but never mind.”
“It’s a shame!” repeated Elsie, petting her very hard to make up for the injustice.
“Hasn’t it been a funny evening?” said John; and Dorry replied, “Yes; we never had such good times before Katy was sick, did we?”
Katy heard this with a mingled feeling of pleasure and pain. “I think the children do love me a little more of late,” she said to herself. “But, oh, why couldn’t I be good to them when I was well and strong!”
She didn’t open Cousin Helen’s letter until the rest were all gone to bed. I think somebody must have written and told about the valentine party, for instead of a note there were these verses in Cousin Helen’s own clear, pretty hand. It wasn’t a valentine, because it was too solemn, as Katy explained to Clover next day. “But,” she added, “it is a great deal beautifuller than any valentine that ever was written.” And Clover thought so too.
These were the verses:
“IN SCHOOL.
“I used to go to a bright school
Where Youth and Frolic taught in turn;
But idle scholar that I was,
I liked to play, I would not learn;
So the Great Teacher did ordain
That I should try the School of Pain.
“One of the infant class I am
With little, easy lessons, set
In a great book; the higher class
Have harder ones than I, and yet
I find mine hard, and can’t restrain
My tears while studying thus with Pain.
“There are two teachers in the school,
One has a gentle voice and low,
And smiles upon her scholars,