timents so perfectly that it drove him to the depths of despair to think that he could not buy it for his Affinity, It cost a whole dollar, and having, as he did, but sixteen cents, and lacking the assurance to ask credit for the remainder, he felt doomed to disappointment.
If Pinkey had been in the book-store once to see that valentine, he had been there twenty times. He came ostensibly ta inquire for the mail, but invariably remained to gaze long and fondly into the show-case at the coveted prize, and to picture to himself the joy it would bring to the heart of his Affinity to receive it. Not even to “Bunny” Morris, his bosom friend, did he confide his burning desire to buy it. He felt it would not be doing right to her if he should trespass on the sacred ground of his infatuation by talking about it.
Do not think that Pinkey was the only one who saw and admired the valentine. Others of his age, and perhaps older, had longed to buy it; but the price was beyond the reach of all.
Whenever any one of Pinkey’s school-fellows came into the store while he was there, he would edge aimlessly away from the show-case toward the counter where the comic valentines were displayed. Three times, to his knowledge, within the week preceding Valentine Day, his Affinity had stopped before the show-case where reposed the large lace offering and had openly admired it. Pinkey was, of course, apparently oblivious to all this, but who can say that his Affinity’s hopes were not realized as her comments fell on alert ears? Once Pinkey had heard her actually price it, and his heart gave one great bound, then stood still. If she should purchase it, would she send it to him? Oh, what joy! But
“Pinkey remained to gaze long at the coveted prize.”
