The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1884-02-08

"BllIy says my grandpa has swallowed
key, and no matter if his pocket is
full of money nobody viii send him a
waluntine even if he is sickr'
Looking through the snow-laden
trees she could see the great house
where her grandfather lived. She
opened the valentine. smelt at one OF
the painted roses, and kissed the two
doves that looked out at her. Simple
| little Lady Ann! At the same moment
there came into her thoughts the few
words her mother had taught her to say
every night in her prayer for her grand
father, whose hand she had never
| touched.
'He shall have waluntiner' she
said, firmly, and the stubby little boots
started mp the hill as fast as her fat baby
legs could propel them.
"Dost thou suppose, Peeree, that
yonder horrid boy can call that musicp"
said Peedee, as the birds flew back.
after the red pung was well out of hear
ing.
s'Billy's ears are SO big" said Pee
rec, ''that fine, bird-like sound might
be lost in travelling through them; but
his heart moves as quickly as birds.
There would have been no valentine for
little Lady Ann to-day if Billy had for
rotten her.
l. "See!' said Peedee. "The Lady
ANN is trudging fast away, and she has
not thrown us crumb.
"And hast thou earned thy crumb,
Peedee? Come, let us fly fast before
/ hnF. toll fhf u I'll
ing, that he may have care of her."
"Why need we haste, Peeree? Short
legs travel but slowly through deep
snow"
"Aye; but warm heart breaketh a
path like the sun, Peedee."
BY the time Lady Ann reached the
! great house, her breath came very fast,
and she was obliged to sit down on the
| stone steps to rest. AS she sat there, a
huge dog came and rubbed his cold
nose on her red cheek and wagged his
tail most politely. When she was rest
ed, she walked up and down the wide
piazza and looked in through the long
windows. There, at last, the house
keeper saw her, came out, and told her
| gently to 90 away. ''Are you not little
Ann?' she said. '.The Squire is in
pain to-day, and if he should see you
he would be very angry
"The key hurts him very much"
thought Lady Ann, but she said: Here
is VALENTINE for him; will you put it
in his handP''
81 dare not, little Ann" said the
woman.
"WhyP" said Lady Ann, in wild as
tonishment. Don't you dare give him
a VALENTINE, big though yon are! Then
let me go in
"Well, then, come in," said the
housekeeper, kindly, adding under her
breath, "may BIZ, good will come of it. "
With the house-dog close following at
her heels, and her waluntine' so
tightly clutched that the doves and
flowers within were sadly mixed, little
Lady Ann, for the first time, entered
her grandfather house.
In great chair before the open fire
of his own room sat the Squire, with his
head back and his eyes closed.
"This is Mary's child" said the old
dog, coming in before Lady Ann, as if
he felt called upon to introduce her.
And then he thought within himself:
g This child's mother fed me when
was a pup. Should dog remember
better than his master?"
II may be the Squire understood him.
for he raised his cane high in the air
and cried sternly: ''Begone, sir! y But
when he saw the round little figure of
Lady Ann he dropped the cane, pulled
down the gold spectacles from the top
of his head and stared at her without
! word. And as she advanced and placed
the valentine upon the old mans knee
the house-dog followed close behind her,
wagging his tail slowly.
'EWhat is thispn demanded the crusty
/ Squire, knitting his brows.
"a waluntine," said she, not without
a small pang, as she thought of the
beautiful doves and flowers, now lost
to her forever.
"What's a waluntine?" he asked,
looking down at her bright little face.
IA waluntine is a softener," she said
instantly, rather proud that she had not
forgotten Billy's definition.
"a 0hat?' exclaimed the Squire,
IroWnlng nercely
"a Softener,n said Lady Ann, not at
all afraid, and sure that the word must
mean something very nice. And then
she added, in coaxing tone: 'Read
it,
God seldom closes every channel to
an old mans heart. Proud, unforgiv-
ing, even cruel sometimes, the old Squire
still had rare sense of the ridiculous,
and he read aloud:
will not part from thee, will not let thee
Free
Till thou dost promise me my Valentine to
| be-"
When he had read. these lines, and
] looked over the top of the valentine,
and when he saw the small Lady Ann
| sitting. before the fire, he wondered if
she meant to sit there until he had
promised. He thought he saw a pa
tent determination in every feature,
not excepting the stubby rubber boot
which persstently pointed at him, on
account of its owner being obliged to
hold it up across the other to rest the
little short legs which had tFudged so
far to give him pleasure. He never
could tell Just how it was-he only
knew he laughed as he had not laughed
for years, which opened the one chan
mel to his heart so wide that, almost be-
fore he knew it, the little Lady Ann
went drifting in, coarse red hood, rub
Der boots, and all!
What name do you bearPn he
asked, as. he wiped away the tears that
followed the laugh.
My namep" she said, laughing, too.
g Yes what name does yourSwhat
do they call your"
" Ann"
Just Ann, plain Ann?" he said.
"No les nor e-y's?"
g Billy calls me Lady Ann" she an
swered.
Aye! that beggar Billy. / know
him drives Stones grocery-wagon.
When Isee him he shall feel my cane
on his back
/" What, Rslly! my Billy! Why he
gave me the waluntine!''
"Oh, he did, did he? Told you to
! fetch it to me. NAV be-