He did not let his dear grandmother know how sorry he was, though, and
after a while it was five o'clock, and his mother came home.
"Has Roger been a good boy?" she asked his grandmother.
"As good as gold," grandmother said. "He has just warmed my heart all
the afternoon."
"Well, I thought he would," his mother said. "Oh, I almost forgot
something, Roger. I have a surprise for you up in the attic."
She went up to the attic and came back with a box in her hand.
"I meant to give these to you this morning, Roger," she said. "I found
them in an old trunk when I was cleaning the attic last week. They
are just as good as new and much prettier than the ones in the shops
now, I think. They are the valentines that I had when I was a little
girl."
Oh, such beautiful valentines as filled the valentine box! There were
enough so that Roger could take one to every child in the neighborhood
on the morning of Saint Valentine's Day.
His mother had been right about these pretty, old-fashioned
valentines. They were nicer than any in the toy shop. Roger spread
them all out on the library table, and looked at them. Suddenly he
found out something queer about the valentines; they made him feel as
if he had been playing Saint Valentine all day.
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