Part 5

Behind the locked doors of her mother’s room, Betty carefully lifted the lovely thing from its tissue-papers, and exclaimed with delight at its beauty. It looked even prettier than it had in the shop, and Betty was sure her plan would be a fine success.

“I hope so,” said Mrs. McGuire; “at any rate, we’ll try it, and if it doesn’t turn out as well as we hope, I’ll take the matter in charge, and go and see Mrs. Porter about it.”

The next afternoon Betty devoted to fixing what she called the “valentine-y” part of it.

The big box was of fine white pasteboard, of a watered design, with gilt edges, and the firm’s name in gilt letters on the cover.

Over this name Betty pasted a large valentine that completely covered it.

Then, with considerable cleverness, she cut up several other pretty valentines, and of the rose garlands and doves and cupids she obtained in this way, she contrived a sort of wreath, which, when pasted into place, made a border all round the box cover.

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.

“Isn’t it jolly that Valentine’s Day comes on Saturday?” said Dorothy. “I shall sit on the lowest step of the staircase all day long to be ready to fly to the door every time the bell rings.”

“Oh, girls,” cried Betty, “wouldn’t it be fun if you’d all come over here to-morrow afternoon and bring your valentines! We can have a regular show of them!”

“All right, I’ll come,” said Dorothy, and “So will I,” said Jeanette. “Oh, what a beauty this is! Betty, I don’t see where you found such lovely ones.”

“That’s left over,” said Betty, carelessly; “you may have it, if you care for it.”

The thoughtless words were no sooner spoken than Betty’s heart stood still with a sudden fear that Jeanette would be offended again.

But, to her amazement, she replied as carelessly:

“Don’t you want it? Oh, thank you, I’d love to have it. I got mine at Morrison’s, and they’re not nearly so pretty as this one.”

Betty was bewildered.

Why was Jeanette so ready to accept a valentine, and so angered at the offer of a dress? To be sure, the valentine cost but a trifle, and the frock considerably more, but that was a matter of degree, and if it was on account of principle, Betty thought the cases were the same. But Betty gave up trying to understand these fine distinctions, and awaited results of her enterprise.

On Saturday a messenger was sent with the precious box. He was given special directions, if any one should ask him where the box came from, not to give the slightest hint.

“Trust me, ma’am!” said the boy, and taking the box carefully, he went on his errand. Then there was suspense indeed. Betty hovered near the telephone, though she had no real reason to think Jeanette would call her up. Had her mind not been distracted by the continuous arrival of valentines to herself, she could scarcely have kept from flying over to Jeanette’s house.

But valentines of all sorts and styles came pouring into the house all day. Betty and Jack received them in every mail, and also between mails by messenger.

Polly had enough to make her baby heart over-flow with glee, and though she ruined most of them with her affectionate pats and kisses, she liked them just as well in their shabby condition.

About four o’clock the young people arrived. Betty had invited a dozen or more, both girls and boys, and though valentines are particularly meant for the fair sex, yet the boys had a goodly number to exhibit also.

The young folk gathered in the drawing-room and set their treasures around on tables, mantels, piano, and even on chairs, so many there were.

Eagerly Betty watched Jeanette to see what her demeanor might be.

To her amazement, Jeanette was positively gay! She seemed like one transformed. Her eyes danced, and her face fairly beamed, as if she were bubbling over with happiness.

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.

“And don’t you mind if she _never_ knows you gave it to her?” asked Mrs. McGuire after she had the story.

“Why, no, Mother. What a question! The whole trouble was for fear she _would_ know that. And now she has the dress, and she’s so happy about it, indeed I _don’t_ want her _ever_ to know where it came from!”

Betty’s own joy in the gift she had made was purely unselfish, and she felt amply rewarded in the pleasure she had given Jeanette.

So when the night of the reception came, Betty took quite as much satisfaction in seeing Jeanette in the lovely and becoming frock as she did in wearing her own beautiful new one.

And when Jeanette received the prize for her wonderfully well-done recitation, Betty squeezed her mother’s hand and looked up at her with eyes fairly beaming in triumph at the thought that she had made it possible for Jeanette to win.

V THE PALACE OF TIME

“I think the club ought to be for something that will improve our minds,” said Constance Harper.

“Well, I don’t!” declared Lena Carey; “we get our minds improved in school. I cram improvement every day, until my mind is fairly bursting with it. I think the club ought to be just for fun.”

“I think so, too,” agreed Betty. “At least, I don’t vote for the improvement part. My mind needs improvement, goodness knows! But I don’t believe we’d ever get much out of a club of our own.

“But I do think it ought to be for something besides just fun,” went on Betty.

“What do you mean?” demanded Lena. “If you don’t study or have papers, what can you do but have fun?”

“Why, it might be for charity,” suggested Jeanette Porter.

“Yes,” said Betty; “that’s what I mean. We can have lots of fun getting up things for charity, and do good besides.”

“I’d like that, I think,” Constance said; “you can have lovely fairs and garden-parties and all sorts of things for charity.”

“We won’t have a garden-party just yet,” said Lena, as she drew closer to the blazing fire.

“No,” returned Constance, a little shortly; “I didn’t mean to. But I suppose the club will last through the summer.”

“Of course it will,” said Betty, who always interrupted when Lena and Constance began their sharp little speeches. “And before summer comes we’ll have an entertainment in the house.”

It was now the first week in March, and, as the weather was raw and disagreeable, the girls were glad to gather in Betty’s cozy library, and nestle in soft, cushioned chairs drawn up to the big fireplace, with its crackling logs.

The four girls had come over for the express purpose of forming a club of some sort, though the details of the plan were not yet thought out. Of course, Jack had been promptly excluded from the conference, as it was to be a girls’ club.

“All right,” he said, as he went unwillingly away; “we boys will get up a rival club, and it’ll be so jolly you’ll want to disband yours and join ours.”

“All right; when that happens, we’ll do it,” sang out Lena, as the door closed behind the reluctant Jack.

But after it was decided to have the club a charitable one, no one could think of just the right form that it should take. “Mother went to a concert last night for the aid of the Orphan Asylum,” suggested Constance, and Lena promptly responded:

“Then they don’t need our help. Let’s think of something else.”

“How about the Fresh Air Fund?” said Jeanette.

“Just the thing!” cried Dorothy. “I’d rather work for little children than anybody else.”

“All right, then; our object is settled,” said Constance; “now what shall we name the club?”

“Oh, wait,” said Lena; “first we must elect officers and all that.”

“First,” said Betty, “we must decide on our members, We five, of course, and I’d like to ask Martha Taylor, too.”

“Then you can leave me out,” said Constance, promptly.

“Nothing of the sort!” said Betty. “You’re perfectly silly, Constance. I don’t see why you don’t like Martha. And she’d feel slighted to be left out of a thing like this.”

“Nobody likes Martha Taylor,” observed Jeanette. “I don’t think we need ask her, Betty.”

“Well, I do! And if you don’t, you may leave me out, too!”

“Oh, Betty! Betty! Of course we wouldn’t leave you out! Why, there couldn’t be a club without you.”

“All right, then. It’s Martha Taylor, too.”

It was not often that Betty asserted herself so strongly, but when she did the others generally yielded the point. Martha Taylor was not a favorite; although a member of the girls’ class, none of them liked her, and she had no chum and almost no friend. There was no especial reason for this, for Martha was not ill-natured or disagreeable; but she was heavy and uninteresting, and never seemed to understand the others’ jokes and fun.

But Betty felt sorry for her, and, seeing she was neglected by the other girls, she stood up for her and insisted on having her for a member of the club.

“Well, you’ll have to look after her,” said Lena. “I never know what to say to her. She only says ‘Yes,’ or ‘No,’ or ‘I don’t care,’ when you ask her anything.”

“Well, she won’t make any trouble in the club, anyhow,” observed Jeanette. “I don’t see why Betty wants her, but if we have to have her, we have to, I suppose.”

“Yes, we have to,” said Betty; “and I’m going to telephone her now, and ask her if she wants to come.”

Whatever they may have thought, no one objected outwardly, and Betty called up Martha on the telephone and invited her over.

Needless to say, the invitation was accepted, and soon Martha appeared, looking greatly pleased.

“Hello, Martha,” said Betty, most cordially, and made a place for the new-comer by her side.

The others spoke pleasantly enough, but without enthusiasm, and then the business meeting was begun.

After some discussion Betty was made president and Dorothy vice-president, Lena Carey was treasurer, and Constance was recording secretary, with Jeanette for corresponding secretary.

This gave each an office with the exception of Martha, and as soon as Betty saw how things were going, she calmly created an office for her friend.

“I nominate Martha Taylor for auditor,” she said, in her most decided way.

“What’s that?” asked Lena.

Now Betty wasn’t quite sure herself what an auditor was, or whether it was a usual office in a club, but she didn’t care. It made an official title for Martha, and so kept her from feeling slighted.

“An auditor?” responded Betty, airily. “Oh, that’s the one who looks over the books and accounts of all of us, to see if we’ve added up right, and all that.”

This wasn’t a specially pleasing idea to the treasurer and the two secretaries, but they understood Betty’s determined expression, and they submitted with good grace.

So matters went on pleasantly, and Martha was greatly elated at being chosen to fill what she considered a most important office.

“But I don’t always add right myself,” she said conscientiously.

“Never mind; I’ll help you,” said Betty, smiling at her. “Now, girls, for a name. I don’t like a high-sounding name. Let’s have something plain and straightforward.”

“The Fresh Air Fund Club,” suggested Lena.

“The Fresh Air Club is shorter,” said Constance.

“The Fresh Club is shorter yet,” said Dorothy, laughing, “and the boys will call us that, anyhow, when they hear about it.”

They decided on “The Fresh Air Club,” and then, all business matters being settled, they proceeded to plan their first entertainment.

“Let’s have something really nice,” said Martha. “We can get Hetherton’s Hall to hold it in, without paying anything. My uncle is one of the managers, and I know he’d let us have it for a charity.”

This was a most advantageous offer, and, had it come from any one else, it would have been hailed with enthusiasm. As it was, nobody said much, except Betty, who exclaimed:

“Why, Martha, that will be fine! If we don’t have to pay for the hall, we can make a lot of money, for that’s generally the biggest item.”

“Yes,” agreed Constance; “all the things to sell will be given to us, or we’ll make them ourselves. You mean a sort of fair, don’t you, Betty?”

“Yes; only a special kind, you know—a bazaar, or something like that.”

“What is a bazaar?” asked Martha, with such an air of blank ignorance that Constance frowned at her.

“A bazaar,” began Lena, “why, a bazaar is—it’s just a bazaar. Anybody knows what a bazaar is.”

“Oh,” said Martha, not much enlightened, but realizing that she was supposed to be.

“Lena didn’t explain it very clearly,” said Betty laughing. “I’m not sure I know the difference myself between a bazaar and a fair.”

“Neither do I,” said Constance; “I think they’re about the same, only bazaar is the new-fashioned name.”

“And a bazaar is bigger,” said Dorothy, “more elaborate, you know, with booths and flags and things like that.”

“And you dress up in costumes at a bazaar,” added Jeanette.

“Good!” cried Betty. “I love dressing up in fancy costumes. What sort do they wear?”

“Oh, sometimes all sorts of costumes, and sometimes just flower-girl dresses and things like that.”

“If you mean that sort of a fair, I read about one not very long ago that might be very nice, I think,” suggested Martha, a little timidly.

“What was it?” asked Betty, as no one else expressed any desire to know.

“Well, it was a bazaar of the months. Only you have to have boys in it—six girls and six boys, and each one has a table and sells things belonging to that month. Flowers for May, you know, and fans for August, and all sorts of things for Christmas, the December one.”

“It sounds lovely,” said Dorothy kindly; “but it would be funny to sell Christmas things and valentines and fans in March.”

“Not at all,” said Betty. “People could buy their valentines and Christmas presents, and hide them away till next year. I think it’s a fine idea. Then each one of us could dress up in a costume to fit the month, such as the Queen of May or the April Fool.”

“Yes,” said Martha, “but you have to have boys for Fourth of July and April Fool and Santa Claus.”

“Well, we will,” declared Betty. “We’ll ask six boys to be honorary members of the club and help us with the bazaar. Let’s call Jack in now.”

They all agreed to this, and Jack came in, much pleased to help with the great project.

As the young people talked it over, it seemed to assume grand proportions, and Betty proposed that they lay the whole plan before her mother before they should proceed further. Mrs. McGuire listened with great interest as the purpose of the Fresh Air Club was explained to her.

“Excellent!” she said at last “I’m sure it will be a lovely bazaar, there’s room for such pretty decorations and costumes. Have you chosen your parts?”

They hadn’t, but, with Mrs. McGuire’s assistance, they undertook the matter at once.

Everybody agreed that golden-haired Constance must be the May Queen. She was just right for it, with her blue eyes and fair, pretty face.

“Do I have a booth?” she said. “What shall I sell?”

“Not exactly a booth for you,” said Mrs. McGuire, “but a bower, a real May Queen’s bower. And you must sell flowers, of course—not only nosegays, but potted plants and ferns and things like that.”

“And wild flowers and pond-lilies! Oh, Constance, your booth will be the prettiest of all!” cried Dorothy, a little enviously.

“You won’t find many wild flowers or pond-lilies in March,” said Mrs. McGuire, smiling; “but the florist will help us out with many blossoms, and we may have to use paper flowers for the bower. Dorothy, you are just the one to be the Summer Girl; that’s the one for August, you know.”

“Oh, I will! And I know just how I’ll fix my booth! I’ve just thought of it. I say, girls, suppose we don’t tell all about our booths, but surprise each other! Just choose our parts, you know.”

“All right!” said Betty, “choose away. Jeanette, what month do you want?”

“I’ll take June,” said Jeanette, who already had a pretty plan in her wise little head.

“I want October,” declared Lena, her eyes twinkling as she thought of Hallowe’en possibilities.

“September was represented by Diana in the bazaar I heard about,” said Martha; “I think Betty ought to be that. She’d make a lovely Diana.”

“So you would, Betty!” said Constance. “Do take that.”

“Very well,” agreed Betty. “What do I sell?”

“Grapes,” said Lena; “but as you can’t get grapes in March, you’ll have to sell grape jelly!”

“I can get hothouse grapes,” said Betty. “But this leaves only November for Martha. What can you be, Martha—a turkey?”

“November isn’t much of anything,” said Martha. “It’s sort of uninteresting.”

“Well,” said Constance, tossing her head; “it’s the only one left.”

Betty’s eyes flashed at this, but she only said:

“All right, Martha, you take November. I’ve a good idea for it; I’ll tell you afterward. Now let’s fix up the boys. What month do you want, Jack?”

“Well, since you ask me, I’ll take January. I’m great on January.”

“All right; and we’ll ask the other boys and let them choose. Oh, I hope they’ll all do it! Won’t it be fun?”

It was fun, but it also proved to be a great deal of work. Indeed, if the grown-ups hadn’t helped them out, the young people could scarcely have carried the affair through. Grandpa Irving took a great interest in it from the beginning, and planned so many improvements and additions that the bazaar soon became a really large enterprise.

It was called “The Palace of Time,” and Mr. Irving agreed to assume the character of old Father Time and preside at the bazaar.

His principal aids were four ladies who represented the four seasons, and who were to wear appropriate costumes to designate Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Each of these ladies presided over the three booths which belonged to her season, and thus the success of the young people’s booths was made more sure.

The other boys had proved quite as pleased as Jack to take part in the affair, and all of those who were to take part, as well as many of their friends, worked hard during the few weeks of preparation.

One thing Betty resolved, and that was that Martha must have an attractive booth and one that should somehow prove to be among the most popular. After she told her grandfather how the other girls felt toward Martha, Mr. Irving also declared that he, too, would look out for her.

“Never you mind, Betty,” said her grandfather; “we’ll just fix it so that Martha’s booth will be crowded with people all the evening.”