My Lady Valentine

Caleb Whitman was in a bad humor. The task of editing the Valentine Special with which _Better Every Week_ was planning to celebrate its tenth anniversary, was far from his tast...

“I like to eat at Tony’s, because he cuts out the din.” As he spoke, Whitman lifted the cover from two of the thick, juicy English chops which were the restaurant’s specialty, a...

A week later, well before the appointed hour, Caleb Whitman was at the table, which he and Radding always occupied, under the cuckoo clock. From time to time he peered intently...

“Yes; stare as hard as you will, rub your eyes, put on your glasses. The postmark of this letter _is_ Deep Harbor, and the illegible scrawl _is_ that of Caleb Whitman, editor an...

Three days passed. Each afternoon Caleb Whitman put his manuscript under his arm and sought the garden. He skirted the curious village in a wide circle, and came upon the red wa...

The Luffkins’ twelve o’clock dinner left Whitman free to seek the bower the next day when the sun was still high in the zenith. He told himself that he went early in order to ha...

“One I know does,” the Captain confided, lowering his voice and looking uneasily over the water as if he would guard his confidence even from the gulls. “Cries her pretty eyes o...

“Well,” said the Captain with heavy jocularity, extending half a dozen letters to his boarder, “when you get done reading that batch of mail, you might give it to me for ballast.”

“Can I sell you a ticket for the box sociable, Mr. Whitman?” Sister Abby’s lack lustre eyes shone with something akin to excitement as she reached into the pocket of her apron a...

Stroll as slowly as he would, stop as often as he dared, Caleb Whitman reached the village streets without being overtaken by Nancy. Aunt Roxana had decided to keep her at home,...

“How much for this box, gentlemen?” Sam Tupman begged, from his stand on a packing case. “Ten cents!” the auctioneer reproached. “I’m ashamed of you, Jim Lyman. There’s more tha...

The walk home, down the long country road, under the summer stars, was at an end. Nancy paused decisively at the stile. “Good night,” she said. “I can find my way in alone.”

The fourteenth of February had come. The windows of candy shops were stacked high with heart shaped boxes. The girls behind the counters of sweets took orders with lightning rap...