At last she found the object of her search, a little
portfolio in which she had laid away some of her childish treasures,
as her older sister had done. Kneeling on the floor beside it, she
took out the valentines it contained and counted them. There were only
six--all that she had ever received; and now she noticed that each
little lace envelope was addressed in her father's familiar
handwriting. She had failed to see that in those earlier years.
"So, really, St. Valentine has never brought me anything," she
thought, bitterly, "and he never will! I wonder how it feels to be
loved and admired by everybody, as May is!"
Going into her own room, she sat down before her little mahogany
dressing-table, and tilting back the oval mirror, studied the
reflection in it. As she looked, the tears began to roll down her
cheeks, and finally she crossed her arms on the table and laid her
head on them with a choking sob. There was a knock at the door
presently, but she paid no attention. It was repeated, and then some
one came in softly, pausing as she saw the girl's dejected attitude.
Alida looked up, "Oh, Doctor Agnes!" she exclaimed; then, despite a
strong effort to control her nervous tears, down went her head on the
table, and she sobbed harder than before.
Doctor Agnes Mayne was the warm friend of all the family, and on the
most familiar footing with them.
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