BLUE AND PINK.
TWO valentines lay together in the pillar post-box. One was pink and onewas blue. Pink lay a-top, and they crackled to each other softly in thepaper-language, invented long since by Papyrus, the father ofManuscript, and used by all written and printed sheets unto this day.Listen hard, next time you visit the reading-room at the Public Library,and you will hear the newspapers exchanging remarks across the table inthis language.
Said the pink valentine: "I am prettier than you, much prettier, MissBlue."
Blue was modester. "That may be true, my dear Miss Pink; still, somefolks like blue best, I think," she replied.
"I wonder they should," went on Pink, talking in prose now, forvalentines can speak in prose and in rhyme equally well. "You are such achilly color. Now _I_ warm people. They smile when they see me. I likethat. It is sweet to give pleasure."
"I like to give pleasure, too," said Blue, modestly. "And I hope I may,for something beautiful is written inside me."
"What? oh! what?" cried Pink.
"I cannot say," sighed Blue. "How can one tell what is inside one? But Iknow it is something sweet, because
She who sent me here Is so very fair and dear."
Blue was running into rhyme again, as valentines will.
"I don't believe a word of it," said Pink, digging her sharp elbow intoBlue's smooth side. "Nothing is written inside me, and I'm glad of it. Iam too beautiful to be written on. In the middle of my page is apicture, Cupid, with roses and doves. Oh, so fine! There is a bordertoo, wreaths of flowers, flowers of all colors, and a motto, 'Be mine.'Be mine! What can be better than that? Have you got flowers and 'Bemine' inside, you conceited thing? If not, say so, and be ashamed, asyou deserve to be."
Again the pink elbow dented Blue's smooth envelope.
But Blue only shook her head softly, and made no answer. Pink grew angryat this. She caught Blue with her little teeth of mucilage and shook herviciously.
"Speak," she said. "I hate your stuck-up, shut-up people. Speak!"
But Blue only smiled, and again shook her head.
Just then the pillar-post opened with a click. The postman had come. Hescooped up Pink, Blue, and all the other letters, and threw them intohis wallet. A fat yellow envelope of law-papers separated the twovalentines, and they had no further talk.
Half an hour later, Pink was left at the door of a grand house, almostthe finest in the town. Charles, the waiter, carried her into theparlor, and Pink said to herself: "What a thing it is to have a mission.My mission is to give pleasure!"
"A letter for you, Miss Eva," said Charles. He did not smile.Well-behaved waiters never smile; besides, Charles did not like Eva.
"Where is your tray?" demanded Eva, crossly. "You are always forgettingwhat mamma told you. Go and get it." But when she saw Pink in herbeautiful envelope, unmistakably a valentine, she decided not to wait.
"Never mind, this time," she said; "but don't let it happen again."
"Who's your letter from, Evy?" asked grandmamma.
"I haven't opened it yet, and I wish you wouldn't call me Evy; it soundsso backwoodsy," replied Eva, who, for some mysterious reason, had wakedthat morning very much out of temper.
"Eva!" said her father, sternly.
Eva had forgotten that papa was there. To hide her confusion, she openedthe pink envelope so hastily as to tear it all across.
"Oh dear!" she complained. "Everything goes wrong."
Then she unfolded the valentine. Pink, who had felt as if a sword werethrust through her heart when her envelope was torn, brightened up.
"Now," she thought, "when she sees the flowers, Cupid, and doves, she_will_ be pleased."
But it was not pleasure which shone on Eva's countenance.
"What's the matter?" asked papa, seeing her face swell and angry tearsfilling her eyes.
"That horrid Jim Slack!" cried Eva. "He said he'd send me a valentinejust like Pauline's, and he hasn't. Hers was all birds and butterflies,and had verses--"
"Yours seems pretty enough," said papa, consolingly.
"It's not pretty enough," responded Eva, passionately. "It's a stupid,ugly thing. I hate it. I won't have it."
And, horrible to state, she flung Pink, actually flung her, into themiddle of the fire. There was time for but one crackling gasp; then theyellow flame seized and devoured all--Cupid, doves, flowers! Anothersecond, they were gone. A black scroll edged with fiery sparkles reareditself up in the midst of the glow; then an air-current seized it, itrose, and the soul of Pink flew up the chimney.
Blue, meantime, was lying on the lap of a little girl of twelve, a mileor more from this scene of tragedy. Two plump hands caressed her softly.
"Sister, may I read it to you just once more?" begged a coaxing voice.
"Yes, Pet, once more. That'll make five times, and they say there isluck in odd numbers," said another voice, kind and gay.
So Pet read:--
"My dear is like a dewy rose All in the early morn; But never on her stem there grows A single wounding thorn.
"My dear is like a violet shy, Who hides her in the grass, And holds a fragrant bud on high To bless all men who pass.
"My dear is like a merry bird, My dear is like a rill, Like all sweet things or seen or heard, Only she's sweeter still.
"And while she blooms beside my door, Or sings beneath my sky, My heart with happiness runs o'er, Content and glad am I.
"So, sweetheart, read me as I run, Smile on this simple rhyme, And choose me out to be your one And only VALENTINE."
"Isn't it lovely?" said Pet, her blue eyes dancing as she looked up.
"Yes, it's very nice," replied sister.
"I wish everybody in the world had such a nice valentine," went on Pet."How pleased they'd be! Do you suppose anybody has sent Lotty one? Onlythat about the bird wouldn't be true, because Lotty's so sick, you know,and always stays in bed."
"But Lotty sings," said sister. "She's always singing and cheerful, soshe's like a bird in that."
"Birdies with broken wings Hide from each other; But babies in trouble Can run home to mother,"
hummed Pet, who knew the "St. Nicholas" jingles by heart. "But poorLotty hasn't any mamma to run to," she added softly.
"No; and that's a reason why it would be so specially nice to give herthe pleasure of a valentine like yours."
"I wish somebody had sent her one," said Pet, thoughtfully.
"I don't suppose there is another in the world just like yours," saidsister, smiling at Pet.
"Then she _can't_ have one. What a pity!"
"She might have this of yours," suggested sister.
"But--then--I shouldn't have any," cried Pet.
"Oh yes, you would, and I'll tell you how," said sister. "You've had allthe pleasure of getting it, and opening and reading it, already._That's_ yours to keep. Now, if I copy the verses for you on plain whitepaper, you can read them over as often as you like, till by and by youlearn them by heart. When you have done that they will be yours foralways; and, meanwhile, Lotty will have the pleasure of getting thevalentine, opening, reading, learning, just as you have done--so youwill get a double pleasure instead of one. Don't you see?"
"That will be splendid," cried Pet, joyously. "Poor Lotty, how glad shewill be! And I shall have two pleasures instead of one, shan't I?"
"How nice," thought Blue, "to have given two pleasures already!"
Sister copied the verses, a fresh envelope was found, and Blue was senton her way. When she was carried upstairs to Lotty's room, she thoughtit the pleasantest place she had ever seen. Sunshine was there--on thewall, on the plants in the window, most of all in Lotty's face, as shesat up in bed, knitting with red worsted and big needles. When Blue wasput into her ha
nds, she laughed with astonishment.
"For me!" she cried. "Who could have sent it? How pretty it is--howpretty! A great deal too pretty for me. Oh, what a kind, dear somebodythere is in the world!"
Everybody in the house was glad because Lotty was glad. Grandmamma camein to hear the valentine; so did papa, and Jack, Lotty's big brother,and Fred, her little one. Even the cook made up an excuse about thepudding, and stole upstairs to hear the "fine verses which somebody hadsint to Miss Lotty. It's swate as roses she is, any day," said cook;"and good luck to him for sinding it, whoiver he is."
By and by Lotty's tender heart began to busy itself with a new plan.
"Grandma," she said, "I'm thinking about little Mary Riley. She works sohard, and she hardly ever has anything nice happen to her. Don't youthink I might send her my valentine--in a different envelope, you know,with her name on it and all? She'd be so pleased."
"But I thought you liked it so much yourself, dear," replied grandmamma,unwilling to have her darling spare one bit of brightness out of hersick-room life.
"Oh, I do; that's the reason I want to give it away," said Lotty,simply, and stroking Blue, who, had she known how, would gladly havepurred under the soft touch. "But I shall go on liking it all the sameif Mary has it, and she'll like it too. Don't you see, grandmamma? I'vecopied the verses in my book, so that I can keep them."
Grandmamma consented. The new envelope was found, Mary's address waswritten upon it, and away went happy Blue to give pleasure to a freshfriend.
"This is best of all," she said to herself, as Mary laid aside her wearysewing to read over and over again the wonderful verses, which seemed tohave dropped out of fairy-land. She almost cried with pleasure that theyshould be sent to _her_.
"I wish I could buy a frame for 'em--a beautiful gold frame," shewhispered to herself.
Pink would have been vain had she heard this; but Blue glowed with apurer feeling--the happiness of giving happiness.
Mary read the verses over a dozen times at least before putting themaside; but she did put them aside, for she had work to finish, anddaylight was precious. The work was a birthday frock. When the laststitch was set, she folded it carefully, put on cloak and bonnet, andprepared to carry the frock home. Last of all, she dropped Blue into herpocket. She did not like to leave it behind. Something might happen,she thought.
It was quite a grand house to which the birthday frock went. In fact; itwas next door but one to the house in which Pink met with her melancholyfate. The little girl who was to wear the frock was very glad to seeMary, and her mamma came upstairs to pay for the work.
"Have you any change?" she said. "Come nearer to the fire. It is coldto-night."
Mary was confused by this kindness. Her fingers trembled as she searchedfor her porte-monnaie, which was at the bottom of her pocket, underneathher handkerchief. She twitched out the handkerchief hastily, and withit, alas! came Blue. They were close to the grate, and Blue was flunginto the fire. Mary gave a scream and made a snatch. It was too late!Already the flames had seized it; her beloved valentine was gone,vanished into ashes!
"Was it anything valuable?" asked the lady, as Mary gave a little sob.
"Oh, n-o--yes, ma'am; that is, it was verses. I never had any before.And they were s-o beautiful!" replied poor Mary, half crying.
The lady gave her an extra dollar for the sewing, but this did notconsole Mary.
Meantime the ghost of Blue flew up the chimney. Upon the roof hovered adim gray shade. It was the ghost of Pink, wind-blown for a little space.
"How sad life is!" sighed Pink's ghost--
"I was young, I was fair, And now I'm in the air, As ugly gray ashes as ever were."
"How sweet life is!" murmured the ghost of Blue--
"I've only lived a little while, But I have made three people smile."
A chickadee who heard the two ghosts discoursing now flew down from theroof-peak. He gathered Blue's ashes up into his beak, flew down intothe garden, and strewed them about the root of a rose-tree.
"In the spring you'll be a rose," he said.
Then he flew back, took up Pink's ashes, bore them into another garden,and laid them in the midst of a bed of chickweed.
"Make that chickweed crop a little richer, if you can," he chirped. "Allthe better for the dicky-birds if you do; and a good thing for you too,to be of use for once in your life."
Then the chickadee flew away. Ghosts have to get accustomed to plainspeaking.
This was the end of Blue and Pink.