“Her little feet run faster Than other feet can flee, As she brushes quickly past, her Voice hums like a bee, And her name begins with E, and ends with E. “Do you ask me why I love her? Then I shall answer thee, Because I can’t help loving, She is so sweet to me, This little girl whose name begins and ends with ‘E.’ ” “It’s just like a fairy story,” said Elsie, whose eyes had grown as big as saucers from surprise, while these verses were being read aloud by Cecy.
Another knock. This time there was a perfect handful of letters. Everybody had one. Katy, to her great surprise, had two.
“Why, what can this be?” she said. But when she peeped into the second one, she saw Cousin Helen’s handwriting, and she put it into her pocket, till the valentines should be read.
Dorry’s was opened first. It had the picture of a pie at the top—I ought to explain that Dorry had lately been having a siege with the dentist.
“Little Jack Horner Sat in his corner, Eating his Christmas pie, When a sudden grimace Spread over his face, And he began loudly to cry. “His tender Mamma Heard the sound from afar, And hastened to comfort her child; ‘What aileth my John?’ She inquired in a tone Which belied her question mild. “ ‘Oh, Mother,’ he said, ‘Every tooth in my head Jumps and aches and is loose, O my! And it hurts me to eat Anything that is sweet— So what will become of my pie?’ “It were vain to describe How he roared and he cried, And howled like a miniature tempest; Suffice it to say, That the very next day He had all his teeth pulled by a dentist!” This valentine made the children laugh for a long time. Johnnie’s envelope held a paper doll named “Red Riding-Hood.” These were the verses:
“I send you my picture, dear Johnnie, to show That I’m just as alive as you, And that you needn’t cry over my fate Any more, as you used to do. “The wolf didn’t hurt me at all that day, For I kicked and fought and cried, Till he dropped me out of his mouth, and ran Away in the woods to hide. “And Grandma and I have lived ever since In the little brown house so small, And churned fresh butter and made cream cheeses, Nor seen the wolf at all. “So cry no more for fear I am eaten, The naughty wolf is shot, And if you will come to tea some evening You shall see for yourself I’m not.” Johnnie was immensely pleased at this, for Red Riding-Hood was a great favorite of hers.
Philly had a bit of india-rubber in his letter, which was written with very black ink on a big sheet of foolscap:
“I was once a naughty man, And I hid beneath the bed, To steal your india-rubbers, But I chewed them up instead. “Then you called out, ‘Who is there?’ I was thrown most in a fit, And I let the india-rubbers fall— All but this little bit.
