Inside the box were two large leaves of satin paper which closed like shutters over the dress when it was folded in place. These leaves Betty decorated in similar fashion to the cover, and replaced the white tapes with narrow blue ribbons. The leaves closed together and were fastened with a large red paper heart, garlanded with flowers, and pierced by a gilt arrow. Fastened to the heart by the arrow was the verse Betty’s mother had composed and had copied on the blank page of a real valentine. This was in an embossed envelop and was addressed “_To Jeanette from St. Valentine_.” The verses which her mother wrote read thus: On Cupid’s Day One may, they say, Send tokens to a friend, Of love most true, As mine for you, A love that ne’er shall end. Accept then, dear, The token here, That tells this love of mine; Or else a dart Will pierce the heart Of your fond Valentine. “Mother, it is perfectly lovely!” cried Betty, as she read the verses. “And, don’t you see, saying ‘from St. Valentine’ is the same as saying ‘from Santa Claus,’ so I _don’t_ think she’ll mind, do you?” As this was about the fiftieth time Betty had asked the same question, Mrs. McGuire could only make the same reply: “I don’t know, dear, but don’t worry about it. If she ‘minds,’ I will undertake to set the matter right again.” Then the box was carefully wrapped in white paper, and sealed up with gilt hearts. Mrs. McGuire addressed it, and she had also written the verses, for Jeanette would have recognized Betty’s penmanship at once. It was hard to wait for Valentine’s Day, but, as Betty had much to do getting ready her other valentines to be dispatched, the time flew quickly. Jack also had many to send, and as, except for the dress, Betty need make no secrets of hers, they spent the afternoon of the thirteenth together in the library, addressing the pretty missives. “This is a beauty!” said Jack, holding up a lovely affair of gilt latticework, which, if you pulled a cord, burst into a mass of flowers and birds. “I think I’ll send this to Jeanette Porter. She’s one of the nicest girls we know, don’t you think so, Betty?” “Yes, I do. She and Dorothy Bates are my dearest friends, and they’re coming over this afternoon, so let’s get theirs out of the way first.” “All right. I’ll send this one to Dorothy. She’s a jolly girl, but Jeanette’s my choice. She’s so quiet and pretty-mannered.” “I’m fond of Jeanette myself, Jack,” said Betty; “and—oh, here they come! Slip theirs in here, quick!” They whisked the valentines into a table drawer, just in time to escape the eyes of the girls as they came in. “Hello!” said Betty, gaily. “We’re addressing valentines. As there aren’t any here for you two, you may look at them all you like. I hope you’re not expecting us to send you any!” “Oh, no!” said the visitors, laughing, for well they knew they would all send valentines to each other.