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Show His Mother's Valentine By E. L. HENDERSON (Copyright, igzl, by Associated Literary Press.) V. J. was a valentine. There could he no doubt about this. He was born on the 14th of -February; his mother had named him Valentine, and he bore the outward semblance of one one, moreover, of that offensive type popularly known as comic. No one knew what V. J. Vincent, as he invariably signed himself, had suffered suf-fered from this combination of circumstances. circum-stances. Hair of unmitigated red, a nose of unconventional length, Inquiring Inquir-ing ears and a dimpled chin were, he told himself, heavy enough burdens to bear, without the necessity of smiling cheerfully at the endless jokes to which he submitted on each recurring 14th of February. He had learned to accept the hair and ears and nose with resignation, but the dimples, perpetually per-petually laughing at the rest of his face, were still a sensitive point; and in a beardless era when fashion demanded de-manded glaring honesty in chins, a conspicuous one. He could only fall back on an unfailing sense of humor for support. V. J.'s name was appropriate In more than one respect. In the lace-trlmmed, lace-trlmmed, Cupld-adorned creations displayed dis-played In February, there is usually found, hidden under a heart-shaped leaf, a little apartment warm with sentiment. In V. J.'s being, there was a similar recess, but so cunningly concealed con-cealed that few suspected its existence. exist-ence. Its sentiment was, however, . bubbling bub-bling up on this particular morning of the 14th of February as he passed the Merrill home, bound offtceward. He had hoped to see Marcia Dillon at the window. Instead, he caught a smile from her young cousin, Dana Merrill. Fortunately, he did not' catch the remark that followed It: "Doesn't Val Vincent look like a comic valentine?" "His face Is rather an Intelligent one for a comic valentine," responded re-sponded Marcia. "He has good eyes." "Oh, yes, but eye-glasses are not becoming. I wonder if anything would be very becoming to Val?" laughed Dana. "He has a fine forehead." Marcia spoke In the manner of one 'determined 'deter-mined to see Justice done to an unpromising un-promising subject. "It's a high one, certainly, and im- , proving right along. Actually, Maria, j tb a FreaA of a fare" " Jl docianral 1 believe Val Vincent Is getting bald, nd he isn't so awfully old either not near thirty yet." Marcia looked up with the amused ind tolerant glance of twenty-five iirected toward sixteen. Dana ran on lightly. "Of course, no one could help liking Val. He's bright and witty, and as good as he Is funny looking. He was devoted to tils mother, and I'd be willing to have i comic valentine for a brother my-Belf, my-Belf, If he'd treat me as Val does that barum-scarum Gwen. She has two Sirls visiting her now, and the whole bunch depend on him to entertain them, as If he were of high school age too. The girls all like him, even If hey do regard him as sort of a joke. I'm glad you're such a good friend to lim, Marcia." "He's by far the cleverest man I've net here," asserted Marcia. "Oh, he has brains, all right," agreed Jan a. Could V. J. have heard Marcla's Jefense, it might have sugar-coated :he annual dose of witticisms he was tailed upon to swallow. As It was, a growing conviction that he had been Indulging in some very foolish Ireams of late, was emphasized by the light jests. He sat In his office In the afternoon, after-noon, smiling rather wanly at a teeble joke from the office boy that ttlnged on his unfortunate cognomen. "He isn't exactly an Apollo himself," tie thought as be watched the lank. grinning boy wilhdraw from the room. Then, "Confound the name, anyway!" he exclaimed. If V. J. ever wavered In a deep sentiment of reverence for his mother it was when he thought of the name she had given him. At home there was a series of valentines, pictures taken on his successive birthdays, by which she had emphasized the name's absurdity. They ran up to thirteen, when the subject had rebelled. Then, 1 after an Interval, there was one more, I sent from a distant college a poorly finished, staring caricature of a I youth In his teens, of which a fastidi j ous regard for dress and a sentimental senti-mental pose were conspicuous fea-' fea-' tures. How delighted his mother had i been with this particular valentine! ! He arose and walked to a mirror. "It's a freak of a face," he declared, ! surveying his reflection sternly and critically. "It looks," he said, "as if , It had repented at the last and tried j to do something in the beauty line. Could anything be more harrowing 'and Inharmonious! No sane girl could ever bring herself to. the point of accepting the wearer of such a face." He would never make a fool of himself by asking It. No! The matter was settled definitely, finally and forever, he declared. The role he was to play henceforth seemed, however, a tame and colorless color-less one as he sat that evening In the Merrill library talking to Marcia. He delayed taking up the book they were reading together. j It had been a dangerous experi- , ment, the reading of that book. An interest in It had led to regular meet-. , Ings, during which Propinquity had been busy after the manner of that efficient ally of Cupid. In V. J.'s case the mischief had been done before he reached chapter three. This was Inevitable. Marcia was pretty. She had a merry face, with all sorts of charming little curves playing over It; and his heart, leaped out toward the Bense of humor It Indicated. Then no one could look at her mouth and chin and not gain a hint as to her character. Sane, sweet and sensible were the adjectives adjec-tives those features spelled. But V. J. understood. For him there could I be only frank friendship. He resolutely reso-lutely picked up the book for the clos- Ing chapters. And just then Dana opened the door and tossed into Marcla's lap a large envelope. "It came this afternoon after-noon while you were out," she explained. ex-plained. "I thought you had It." "Who In the world Is sending me a valentine of this sort?" exclaimed Marcia, picking up the flimsy, fancy envelope. "Oh, I know. It's Dickey, Mrs. Ashton's little boy. I was over there yesterday, and he was valentine crazy. Don't you want to see It?" V. J. leaned over as Marcia drew out the valentine; and then there fell a thick and sudden silence. From a setting of lace paper, rose-hued hearts and plump cuplds, there looked up at him his own face, the familiar college caricature, beneath which In letters which seemed clamoring to be read, were the words: "I am your valentine. Will you, sweet maiden, not be mine?" Marcla's face was flushed and angry. an-gry. "Those silly girls!" she exclaimed. ex-claimed. "I do not think girls of that age Her voice broke as she began to replace re-place the valentine in Its envelope. V. J.-put out a restraining hand and took the picture. "It looks to me," he observed, "as If St. Valentine has had some odds and ends left when he finished his yearly assortment and had thrown them together to save the scraps. An old fellow of his expert ence ought to know that an incongruous incon-gruous mixture of the comic and the sentimental Is never successful." But Marcia did not laugh. "I know all about that picture," she said Indignantly. In-dignantly. "Mrs. Ashton told me yesterday yes-terday how happy It made your mother one Valentine's day. Gwen should be thoroughly ashamed of herself!" her-self!" To V. J. there was something wonderfully won-derfully sweet and Intimate In this mention of Ills mother by Marcia. Certain resolutions melted In Its warmth. There was a moment's silence. si-lence. Then, "I am walling," he reminded. re-minded. Marcia looked up Inquiringly. "There Is a question, you know. I couldn't ask It myself, but thin young fellow has had the audacity to ask It for me. You haven't answered It yet." And the answer must have been satisfactory, for V. J. never, as he Bad sworn to do, destroyed his mother's valentine. Something In a nature'full of sentiment forbade his doing so. " |