Polly and Lois agreed. They did not think it necessary to say that they had already started with Connie.

"Four lines are enough, let's see, what rimes with valentine? Columbine, turpentine-aha! I've got it." Betty scribbled furiously. "How's this?

"Just to tell you, Connie, That a drop of turpentine, Will take the blood stain off your hand, We send this valentine."

"Oh, Bet, that's great. How did you ever think of it?" Polly was filled with admiration.

"Oh, genius is burning tonight, that's all," Betty laughed. "Now let's think of one for Angela."

"Something about Latin for her, don't you think?" Polly said.

The suggestion was enough for Betty. "Fine, dine, pine," she chanted.

"Listen:

"Angela, so fair and wise, Oh hear us sadly pine, We've tried, but couldn't find you A Latin valentine."

Lois and Polly looked at each other in speechless wonder, and Betty, now thoroughly started, wrote absurd jingles to all the girls. She reached the height of her achievement in Louise Preston.

"Read it again, Bet, it's the best of all," Polly said, delighted. And Lois spread a cracker inches thick with jam, and presented it-

"To the Poet," she said. "I haven't a laurel wreath so this will have to do."

"You can't eat it until you've read the poem again," Polly insisted.

"Oh, all right." Betty consulted her pad.

"Some people sigh, and wish for the day, When work is all gone, and there's only play.

But if the world were black as ink, We wouldn't care at all If Lois were always captain And our hearts her basket ball."

"I don't think much of it, the meter changes," Betty said critically.

"That's all right, as long as it doesn't change in the same verse,"

Polly replied. "I think it's great. Who next?"

"Oh, no more tonight," Betty groaned, "give me my cracker. I'm starved."

"No time, there goes the silence bell." Lois laughed.

"No time? Just watch me," and Betty put the whole cracker in her mouth at once, and left for her own room.

"Good-night," Polly and Lois called after her, but she could only nod in response.

The party was at its height. Every age and every country was represented in the costumes. Betsy Rosses, Grace Darlings and Pocahontases abounded among the younger children. And there was every known character from Agrippa of Roman fame, to Queen Victoria, among the upper school. High ruffs danced with 'kerchiefs, and French heels, with sandals. In fact, every one had taken so much interest in their costume that the Seniors and faculty, who were acting as judges, were hard put to find any one particular girl who outshone the rest.

Lois and Betty had drifted off to a corner of the room, during the refreshments. They made a curious picture against the boughs of green that decked the walls. Betty was a stolid Indian maid, from the beaded moccasins to her parted hair, her face was smeared with grease paint, and she had tribal marks all over her forehead and cheeks. Polly looked very efficient in her immaculate nurse's costume, her hair was parted severely, and she had on a soft white winged cap. Over her uniform she wore a long gray cape. No one had been able to name her, and after the guessing was over she spent her time in explaining, and exalting Florence Nightingale.

As for Lois, Miss Porter was right when she said that she looked like Bastien-Lepage's picture of Jeanne d'Arc, and certainly rags became her.

She had found a bodice, that laced over a white blouse, and an old patched skirt. Miss Porter had fixed her hair in a soft careless knot, and as she stood beside Polly and Betty, a little tired from the excitement of the evening, there was a far away, dreamy look in her eyes that bespoke the seeing of glorious visions.

"Louise asked me if we sent her that valentine," Lois said, between sips of lemonade.

"Did you tell her we did?" Polly inquired.

"Yes, I did, because she said it was the sweetest one she'd received, and I just had to let her know that Bet wrote it."

Betty said: "Oh, shucks, why did you do that?" and changed the subject by asking: "Who do you think will get the prize?"

The answer was cut short as Angela, who was Catharine of Russia, and Connie joined them.

"Well, Lady Macbeth," Polly greeted them, "have you established your claim to being a real historical character yet?"

"I have, doubter," Connie answered haughtily. "There was a real Lady Macbeth, Mrs. Baird says so, and, 'sure she is an honorable man, woman,'

I mean, 'Therefore, avaunt and quit my sight, let the earth hide thee, and thy base mockery.'"

Angela put her hand over Connie's mouth. "Don't mind her, she's been talking like this all evening," she said. "Did you get the packages that were in the express-room?"

"Packages, no, where are they?" Polly demanded.

"Why, I saw them before dinner, there were three, just alike, and addressed to you and Lo, and Bet."

"Let's get them this minute," Betty said, starting for the door. "Come on with us."

They threaded their way through the crowd of dancing girls, and raced for the express-room.

"I bet it's a joke," Lois said as she reached for the electric switch.

But when the light was turned on, sure enough there were three packages, piled one on the other, on the table.

"Open them quick," Connie commanded. "I am dying of curiosity."

Off came the wrappers, and there was a shout of joy as three heart-shaped boxes of candy appeared.

"How wonderful!"

"My favorite kind!"

"What adorable boxes!"

"They're painted on silk."

"How sweet!"

"Who could have sent them?" Lois asked.

"Mr. Pendleton, perhaps," Betty suggested.

"No, it's not Uncle Roddy's writing," Polly said; "besides, he sent me a little gold heart, yesterday."

"Open them, perhaps there's a card or something inside," Angela suggested. This proved to be the case.