e of the children at the Orphans' Home,"
replied the clerk in a lower tone.

"Oh!" And the lady started and looked at Polly with new interest, and
then insisted still more earnestly that she should be attended to at
once, at the same time beckoning Polly to come forward.

Polly obeyed her; but as she glanced at the cheap little five-cent
valentines the clerk put before her, she shook her head disdainfully. "I
want a bigger one; I want the bewt'f'lest there is," she informed him.

The young man laughed. "How much money have you got?" he asked.

Polly produced her bank, and triumphantly shook out its contents.

"Oh,"--laughing again,--"all that? How much is it?"

"I don't know jus' exac'ly. I can count up to ten, and there's two ten
piles, and--and--five cents more."

"Oh, two tens and five. Yes, I see,"--running his fingers over the
little heap,--"that makes twenty-five. You've got twenty-five cents.
Here are the twenty-five-cent valentines;" and he uncovered another box,
and left her to make her choice.

"Twenty-five cents!" echoed Polly. Why, why, why, that was enough to buy
the little paint-box! She glanced down at the twenty-five-cent
valentines. They presented a dazzling sight of cherubs' heads and wings
and flowery garlands. She lifted her chin a little higher, and there,
staring her in the face, was the very little paint-box, with its two
brushes and porcelain color plate, and it seemed to say to her: "Come,
buy me now; come, buy me now. If you don't, somebody else will get me."
And she _could_ buy it now, if only--she gave up the valentine--Jane's
valentine; and--why shouldn't she? She hadn't told Jane anything about
it; Jane didn't expect it; Jane wouldn't ever know about it. Why
shouldn't she? And Polly drew a deep sigh of perplexity as she asked
herself this question.

"What is it?" a soft voice said to her here. "What is it that troubles
you? Tell me. Perhaps I can help you."

Polly started, and turned to see the lady who had made way for her
standing beside her. The lady smiled reassuringly as she met Polly's
perplexed glance, and said again,--

"What is it? Tell me."

And Polly, looking up into the kind sweet face, told the whole
story,--all about the long saving for the little paint-box, Jane's
valentine, and everything, winding up eagerly with the appeal,--"And
wouldn't _you_ buy the paint-box now 'stead of the valentine, 'cos the
paint-box mebbe'll be gone when I get more money?"

"Wouldn