"Ten years to come will be plenty time enough for you to think of
such things. A valentine, indeed! I'd like to know who is to send one
to you, or to any one else. There are only three unmarried men in our
village; which of them would you like for your valentine; Jake Spikes,
the blind fiddler; Bill Bowen, the deaf mail-boy, or Squire Sloughman?
If the squire sends a valentine, I rather guess it will be to me. Oh,
I forgot! There's the handsome stranger that boarded last summer with
Miss Plimpkins. I noticed him at church Sunday. Come down to make a
little visit and bring Miss Plimpkins a nice present ag'in, I guess.
He is mighty grateful to her for taking such good care of him while he
was sick. A uncommon handsome man. But 'taint a bit likely he'll think
of a baby like you. He is a man old enough to know better--near forty,
likely. He was monstrous polite to me; always finding the hymns, and
passing his book to me. And I noticed Sunday he looked amazing
pleasing at me. Land! it's ten o'clock. You'd better run over to the
office and get the paper. No, I'll go myself. I want to stop in the
store, to get some yarn and a little tea."
Miss Henrietta hurried off, and little Etta pouted on and murmured
something about:
"People must have been dreadful slow and dull in aunty's young days,"
and then her thoughts wandered to that same handsome stranger.
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