Chapter II: Act I

SCENE.--_The setting is the same for both Acts--a living-room
or library._

(_As the curtain rises BERT is sitting at a desk, evidently
just finishing a letter or note._)

BERT. There! I’ll just tuck it in here with the valentine, and let her get both together. (_Does so, and directs envelope._) Miss Eloise V. Worthington! A pretty name, and a stately one, but somehow I like Winston better. I wonder if she will?

(_Finishes addressing it, and sits looking at it._)

_Enter BOBBY, in a hurry._

BOBBY. Bert! Frank’s out here in his brother’s buzzcart, and wants to see you. He says you can ride up-town if you’ll get a move on.

BERT. I will that.

(_Steps out, comes back through, putting on his coat._)

BOBBY (_with a grin_). Going bare-headed?

BERT (_putting hand to head_). Why, I thought I put it on! Run and get it, kid.

(_Exit BOBBY. BERT paws around on table, upsetting everything._)

BOBBY. Here’s your lid.

BERT. Thanks. Where in the name of common sense are my gloves? I put them here for Mother to mend, last night.

BOBBY. They’re sticking out of your pocket.

BERT. So they are. So long, kid.

(_Hurries out, forgetting valentine. BOBBY spies it and picks
it up._)

BOBBY. Gee! It’s a valentine for Eloise. Bet it ain’t as pretty as the one I bought. There won’t no silly girl get it, either. I wonder----

(_He starts to take it out of envelope, hears some one
coming, and runs out, dropping it. There should be a curtain,
apparently separating two rooms, and behind this BOBBY hides._)

_Enter UNCLE BERTRAM; goes to desk._

UNCLE B. (_addressing his envelope_). Well, well! That’s the fortieth valentine I’ve sent Ellen. I sent the first, I remember, when I was a three-year-old, in kilts, and she a baby in little white dresses and blue shoes. Ha, hum! Such is life! Here we are, both middle-aged people, though blest if I feel so! If she’d only answered that twentieth one, I might not have been sending the fortieth. I wonder---- (_He toys with letter._)

MRS. WINSTON (_looking in_). Oh, here you are, Bertram. You’re wanted on the ’phone.

UNCLE B. (_rising_). I’ll be right there.

(_He hurries out, and BOBBY hurries in, and picks up the
dropped letter._)

BOBBY (_going to desk_). Gee! I’ve thought of the best joke! This ain’t sealed, either. I’m a-going to change ’em. Thirty-nine valentines are enough for one lady to get from the same man, anybody’d know! (_Makes the change, and seals both letters._) There! I guess a “change’ll be a difference,” as Aunt Emily says, and Eloise oughtn’t to care. This one’s from Bert, too. Didn’t know Uncle Bertram ever signed his name Bert. Jumping frogs! He’s coming!

(_Hides again, BERT’S letter in his hand. His uncle takes the
letter, and sees it is sealed._)

UNCLE B. Funny! I thought I hadn’t sealed that. Getting absent-minded, I guess.

(_Puts it in pocket, and goes out, whistling._)

_Enter EVELYN and HELEN. Both start toward desk. HELEN reaches
it first._

EVELYN. Oh, dear, Helen, won’t you let me have the desk a minute? I just want to address a letter.

HELEN. So do I, and I’m in an awful rush.

EVELYN. What is it? A valentine?

HELEN. Is yours?

EVELYN. Well, why don’t you address it, or else let me have the desk?

HELEN (_rising_). You may have it, Evvie. I’ll wait. (_EVELYN seats herself, toys with pen._) Well, why don’t you do it, if you’re in such a rush? (_EVELYN laughs._)

EVELYN. For the same reason you don’t, I guess. Here! (_Hands her a fountain pen._) You can do yours on the table. Then we won’t bother each other.

HELEN. I’ll let you see who mine is addressed to, if you will, too.

EVELYN. No, thanks. (_Both hesitate, laugh, and HELEN takes hers to table. Both write hastily. A crash is heard, followed by a loud scream, and both girls rush out. BOBBY comes out of his hiding-place, and changes valentines swiftly, sealing both, then darts back as he hears girls coming. They enter._) Katy will scare us to death some day. Did you ever see any one who could get so many tumbles?

HELEN. Or smash so many dishes? No, I never did. (_Takes up valentine._) Why, I don’t remember sealing this.

EVELYN. Nor I mine. I suppose the--the Irish earthquake in an American kitchen put it out of our heads. Want me to mail your letter? I’m going out.

HELEN. No, thanks. I’m going out, too, and this envelope is private property.

EVELYN. H’m! I could make a pretty good guess as to the name on the outside. It’s “Pet,” of course.

HELEN. Really, it’s mean to call Phil that. He hates it so!

EVELYN. Then his mamma shouldn’t have named him Philip Etheridge, when she knew his last name must always be Tuttle. Then he is such a pet. I always want to see a big lawn bonnet on those golden curls of his, and see his dear little self in ruffled white dresses, with short socks and blue slippers. Of course the little darling wants a valentine! But I should think he’d make you tired!

HELEN. He’s lots nicer than that homely Jack Hamilton. All he thinks of is baseball.

EVELYN. Well, he isn’t soft and sentimental, and--mushy like Pet. I don’t care to lead a nice little poodle-dog around by a blue ribbon.

HELEN. You’d prefer a bulldog?

EVELYN. I certainly should. Coming out to mail your precious epistle?

HELEN. I am.

EVELYN. Come on, then. (_Both pass out._)

BOBBY (_coming forth again_). Now maybe I’ll have a chance. No, here comes Lou!

(_Dives out of sight again._)

LOUISE (_entering_). I saw you, Bobby Winston! What you hiding for?

BOBBY (_stepping out_). I ain’t hiding.

LOUISE. Well, you were. Thought you could jump out and scare some one, I s’pose.

BOBBY (_as she seats herself at desk_). Who you writing to?

LOUISE. Nobody. I’m sending valentines.

BOBBY. Valentines? More than one? Helen and Evvie only sent one apiece, and I’m going to send one.

LOUISE. Oh, Bobby, who to?

BOBBY. That ain’t good grammar.

LOUISE. And that is, I s’pose. H’m!

(_She takes two envelopes and tucks in valentines, and seals
them._)

BOBBY. Who you sending ’em to, Lou?

LOUISE. I shan’t tell. Go ’way, Bobby, so’s I can get ’em done.

BOBBY. Tell me who they’re going to?

LOUISE. No siree!

BOBBY. I’ll give you my glass agate if you will, Louie.

LOUISE. What you want to know for? To tell somebody, and get me laughed at?

BOBBY. No, I won’t tell, honest Injun!

LOUISE. Well, the pretty one goes to Reginald, and the homely one goes to Freddie, ’cause I’m mad on him!

BOBBY. What you mad at Freddie for?

LOUISE. ’Cause he said Valentine’s Day was silly, and he shouldn’t send one.

BOBBY. Ho, ho! And you wanted him to send you one!

LOUISE. No such thing! He can keep his old valentines, if he wants to. I’m going to send a lovely one to Reginald. He’s got sense enough to ’preciate it, maybe. And I got a horrid comic one of a miser, all ragged and thin, gnawing a bare bone, like a dog, with his money all piled up around him.

BOBBY. Mamma doesn’t like us to send comic ones.

LOUISE. Don’t you tell, Bobby Winston!

BOBBY. What’ll you give me not to? My aggie back again?

LOUISE. I haven’t got it yet to give back again. Yes, keep it if you want to, but don’t tell. If you do, I’ll never tell you anything again, so there, now!

BOBBY. Well, I won’t, but Mamma wouldn’t like it. You know she wouldn’t.

LOUISE. Maybe she wouldn’t like all you’ve been up to, either, Sir Robert.

BOBBY. What you know about what I’ve been up to?

LOUISE. Oh, you have! You have been up to some mischief! Now if you tell, I will.

BOBBY. You can’t, for you don’t know it to tell, smarty. Say, Lou, let’s see the funny one.

LOUISE. It isn’t funny. It’s just horrid, and I meant it to be. Besides, they’re sealed now. Keep still while I direct them. (_She writes. BOBBY gets behind her, and shows wild enjoyment. LOUISE rises._) There! Now I’ll go mail ’em. Have you sent any, Bobby?

BOBBY. Not me. I’ve got too many sisters to want to send valentines to girls. (_LOUISE goes out. BOBBY seats himself at desk._) See if I can get mine sent some time to-day. (_Writes._) I suppose I’d better mail the one Bert forgot. Gee! But wasn’t it good! Louise mixed up her own, and she’s sent the pretty one to Fred, and the other to Reginald. Good one on her! It seems to be catching. I’ll go out and mail mine before anything happens to it. It’s a poor day for valentines. Sort of mixy, somehow. Six of ’em, all going wrong! Gee! Mine’s the lucky seventh. Wish I was a bumblebee, and could follow some of ’em. Wouldn’t it be fun! Well, Papa says a boy ought to be a good mixer. Guess I’m all right. (_Goes to door, and calls._) Mamma!

MRS. W. (_outside_). What is it, Bobby?

BOBBY (_as she enters_). Here’s a letter Bert left on the desk, all addressed and sealed. Shall I mail it?

MRS. W. Certainly. Let me see it, Bobby. (_Takes it, and reads._) It’s for Eloise. A valentine, probably. Mail it by all means, dear.

(_BOBBY runs out. MRS. W. tidies up the room a bit, and then
also passes out._)