A Merry Scout by Edna Payson Brett - HTML preview

SANDY’S VALENTINE

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day, Jeanie.”

“Yes, Sandy, I know.” Jeanie turned gently to the little brother, whose face was all swollen with mumps.

“Say, Jeanie, wouldn’t it be nice to have a truly valentine with lace and angels on it, like what’s in the store windows? Do you ’spose I will get one tomorrow?” he asked wistfully.

“Maybe you will, Sandy.” Jeanie smiled bravely, but her heart ached for the disappointment she feared was in store for him. How she was longing for a “truly” valentine herself, she did not breathe to Sandy.

There were many things that sadly puzzled seven-year-old Jeanie. Why should Father have gone to heaven to stay forever when they all needed him so badly? Why did the rent man come so often to take all Mother’s money as fast as she saved it? Why did the grocer never bring a turkey to their house on Thanksgiving or Christmas? And why did the postman never stop at their door, even on holidays, when he had so many packages? It seemed as if one, at least, must certainly be meant for them.

Jeanie was turning it all over in her mind now, as she made Sandy’s bed, this morning before Valentine’s Day, when suddenly a bright idea came into her head, and, darting across the room to a rickety little table, she opened the drawer and pulled out a piece of druggists’ white paper. Smoothing it out on the table, she folded the two short edges carefully together.

“It looks just like boughten letter paper now, don’t it, Sandy? But you mustn’t ask a single question, because it’s a surprise,” she said, settling herself to write. Then for thirty long minutes, Jeanie’s stub pencil crawled painfully over the white surface. It was a hard task for her, especially as Mother wasn’t at home to help with the spelling.

Jeanie was turning it all over in her mind as she made Sandy’s bed

At last Jeanie heaved a deep sigh of relief. “There,” she said aloud, “it’s all ready now but the unvelope.” Whereupon she took from the family Bible a treasured envelope she had picked up in the street one day.

“It’s a perfectly good unvelope, all unstuck same’s a new one,” she said to herself “and a nice green stamp on it. All the matter is, it’s wrote on a little, but I can scratch that out all right.” And soon the second-hand envelope was ready and the letter tucked inside.

“I must go to school now, Sandy!” cried Jeanie, running for her coat and hat. “Mother’ll be home pretty soon. Good-by.” In a moment she was out of the door and hurrying to the mail box on the corner, where, standing on tiptoe, she dropped in the precious missive.

That noon, as Postman Green sat at dinner with his wife, he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I ’most forgot my valentine!” and he pulled from his pocket a sorry-looking envelope, directed to “Mister Postman himself.”

Jeanie, standing on tiptoe, dropped in the precious missive

“From one of my young admirers on Gregory Street,” he laughed, passing it to his wife.

Mrs. Green tore it open. “Why, it’s a letter,” she said, proceeding to read aloud:

DEAR MR. POSTMAN:

I thort I wood rite you about Sandy’s valuntin; he wants one orful—one of those kind with lace and angels on it what come in unvelops. He has got the mumps and can’t go out, and Mother ain’t got any money to buy a valuntin, and father has been in heaven a long time. Won’t you plees look everywhere around the post-orfice, and in all the boxes on the lamp-posts, and see if you can’t find one for him? His name is Sandy Keith, and we live in the little brown house, number 27 Gregory Street, wher you don’t ever stop, even on Christmus. I will be looking for you at the winder tomorer noon. Plees don’t go by or cross the street this time.

From your frend,

JEANIE KEITH

“Poor little things! They mustn’t be disappointed!” cried Mrs. Green.

“Indeed, they shan’t be,” answered the postman soberly. “I’ve just thought up the nicest little scheme. I’ll tell you how it all comes out tomorrow.”

The door was opened by a pale-faced little girl, leaning on a crutch

Late that afternoon Postman Green rang the bell of a fine stone house on Hillside Avenue. The door was opened quickly by a pale-faced little girl, leaning on a crutch.

“Only five of them for you in this mail,” laughed the postman, as she held out her hand, “but here’s a valentine I got this morning I’d like you to see. I’ll call for it tomorrow.”

“Poor little rich girl!” he said to himself, as he went away. “She’ll have something new to amuse her now.”

The next noon Jeanie came home from school in a quiver of excitement. Sandy met her with a rueful face. “It ain’t come, Jeanie,” he cried reproachfully.

“But Valentine’s Day isn’t over yet,” laughed Jeanie gaily. And, dinner dispatched as soon as possible, she took her stand at the window.

At that moment, several blocks away, the postman was again stopping at the door of the great stone house.

“I’m so glad that you showed me your valentine,” the little girl on the crutch was saying, with sparkling eyes, “else I’d never have known anything about them. Thank you so much. It’s the best fun I ever had.”

It seemed a long time to Jeanie, stationed at the window, before the familiar blue coat came in sight.

“Oh, here he comes, Sandy!” she cried at last, clasping her hands tightly together, “and he sees me, and he’s waving something white!”

Jeanie flew to the door and opened it before the postman had time to ring.

“For Master Sandy Keith,” he announced, holding out a great white envelope.

“That’s him, that’s him!” cried Jeanie wildly, pointing to Sandy, who, regardless of mumps, had followed her. “Oh, thank you, Mister Postman! I knew you’d come. But where did you ever find such a big one?”

“For Miss Jeanie Keith,” continued the postman, not seeming to hear, taking from his pack another envelope as big as the first.

“Why, that’s me!” Jeanie caught her breath. “And I wanted one awful. But how did you know?” The postman only smiled.

“By the way,” he said, as he turned to go, “I’ll be stopping again before long. There’s a Christmas box that ought to have been left here nearly two months ago. I’m real sorry I’ve neglected you all this while.” Then he hurried off.

Such valentines were never seen in Gregory Street before as were set up in the window of number twenty-seven that day, nor two such bright faces as peeped out from behind.

“Do you ’spose there’s anybody in the whole world as happy as we are, Sandy?” Jeanie asked a dozen times over.

“’Course not!” responded Sandy indignantly each time.

But they did not know about the little girl on a crutch in the fine stone house, who was brimming over with joy that day because she had adopted two little stranger friends, to be their valentine the whole year round.