Jack admired her more than ever, and wondered if the receiving of a few valentines pleased her as much as all that. Betty didn’t quite understand, but she saw that Jeanette was radiantly happy, and she felt sure that it _must_ be because of the new dress. “Oh, I know the valentine _you_ sent me, Betty!” she cried soon after she came in. “Which?” said Betty, her heart in her throat with excitement. “This one!” cried Jeanette, triumphantly holding up the pretty paper valentine that Betty had sent. “Right you are, Jeanette,” she replied; “I did send you that, because I knew you’d love that landscape with the blue trees and green sky.” “It isn’t that way!” cried Jeanette. “You needn’t make fun of my prettiest valentine of all—or nearly,” she added, with a funny little smile. Betty was mystified, but said nothing, but after the others had gone and only Jeanette and Dorothy remained, she said, unable longer to restrain her curiosity: “Whatever is the matter with you, Jeanette? I never saw you so gay and festive.” “Indeed, I should think I would be!” exclaimed Jeanette. “I waited till the others had gone, to tell you. Girls, I’m going to the reception!” “You are!” cried Dorothy. “How perfectly lovely!” And Betty said: “Oh, Jeanette, I’m so glad!” “How did you happen to change your mind?” asked Dorothy. “Oh, I had a dress for a valentine! The loveliest dress you ever saw! It’s just a dream! All filmy chiffon, and the darlingest little pink rosebuds, and exquisite lace—oh!” “A valentine!” cried Dorothy, and Betty said eagerly: “Who sent it?” “I don’t know,” said Jeanette, turning her eyes on Betty, so honestly ignorant that Betty knew she didn’t suspect in the least. “I’ve no idea. It came in the most beautiful box, all fixed up like a lovely big valentine, and the sweetest verse, all written out. I never saw the handwriting before, and I can’t imagine—I haven’t the least idea—who sent it to me.” “Are you glad?” said Betty. “Glad? Well, I just guess I am. Now I can go to the reception, and I’m going to recite ‘The Famine’ lines from ‘Hiawatha.’” “But haven’t you any way to find out who sent it?” persisted Dorothy, thereby asking the very question Betty wanted to. “No, and I don’t want to try. You see, you’re not supposed to know who sends a valentine, and of course it would turn out to be Aunt Esther, or Grandmother Harrington, and that would take away all the beautiful mystery and romance. It’s _so_ lovely not to know where it came from. It’s a true valentine.” “So it is,” agreed Betty, her heart fairly bounding with joy at the complete success of her little plan. “Come on home with me and see it,” urged Jeanette; but Betty felt she must tell her mother about it at once, so she said, “No, it’s too late. I’ll run over to-morrow to see it.” “All right, then; be sure to come,” and happy Jeanette went away with Dorothy, leaving an equally happy Betty behind her.