"It's a Valentine party, and I've got a ripping idea," said Gowan. "We'll put our names on pieces of paper, fold them up, shuffle them and draw them; then each of us must write a valentine to the one we've drawn. We'll shuffle these, and one of us must read them all out. Then we must each guess who's written our valentines." "Sounds rather brainy, doesn't it?" objected Noreen. "I don't think I'm any hand at poetry!" "Oh! you can make up something if you try. Valentines are generally doggerel." "Need it be quite original?" asked Edith. "Well, if you really _can't_ compose anything, we'll allow quotations." "Cracker mottoes?" suggested Dulcie. "Exactly. They're just about in the right style." "Are you all getting into a sentimental vein?" giggled Bertha. "Remember 'Love' rhymes with 'Dove,' and Cupid with--with--" "Stupid," supplied Dulcie laconically. "I'm not going to give my rhymes away beforehand," said Phillida. "Is that shuffling business finished, Gowan? Then bags me first draw." Each girl, having been apportioned the name of her valentine, set to work to compose a suitable ode in her honor. There was much knitting of brows and nibbling of pencils, and demands for a few minutes longer, when Gowan called "Time!" At last, however, the effusions were all finished, folded, shuffled, and laid in a pile. Gowan, as the originator of the game, was unanimously elected president. She drew one at a venture, opened it, and read: "TO PHILLIDA "Fair maiden, who in ancient song Was wont to flout her swain, I prithee be not always coy, But turn your face again. My heart is true, and it will rue, That ever you should doubt me, So sweet, be kind, and change your mind, And don't for ever flout me." "Who wrote that?" asked Phillida, glancing keenly round the circle. "Noreen, I believe you're looking conscious! I always suspect people who say they can't write." "_I!_ No, indeed!" declared Noreen. "You may make guesses, but nobody's to confess or deny authorship till the end," put in Gowan hastily. "Remember, valentines are always supposed to be anonymous. Now I'm going to read another. "TO LILIAS "Cupid with his fatal dart Shot me through and made me smart, So I pray, before we part, Kiss me once, and heal my heart!" "Short and sweet!" commented Edith. "Very sweet--quite sugary, in fact," agreed Lilias. "It's the sort of motto you get out of a superior cracker with gelatine paper on the outside, and trinkets inside. There ought to be a ring with all that. I believe it's Prissie's, but I'm not sure it isn't by Bertha." "You mayn't have two guesses!" reminded Gowan, reaching for another paper. "Hallo! this actually to me! I feel quite shy!" "Go on! You're not usually afflicted with shyness," urged the others. "TO GOWAN