Cicely and Other Stories | Page 8

an Indian brave does his scalp-locks," she
answered. "They were sent to me ages ago, before I left the nursery. I
had them all packed away, and had forgotten them until I began
planning this costume. I wonder if Charley Jarvis will recognise that
row, or Phil Bently remember when he sent this. They were barely out
of the kindergarten then."
The judge looked at the trophies with an amused smile. "I remember
sending valentines to your mother once upon a time. It is too bad the
custom is dying out. Young people seem to be discarding their patron

saint."
"Oh, no, indeed, father," answered May. "We have got beyond hearts
and darts and lace-paper affairs; but cast your judicial eye over that
table at all I have received to-day: books and music and boxes of candy
and no end of flowers."
"Where is your share, Alida?" asked the judge, kindly, peering over his
eye-glasses at his youngest daughter. "What did St. Valentine bring
you?"
"Nothing," answered Alida, rising suddenly to leave the room, lest he
should notice the tears she could not force back. "He's like everybody
else," she added, bitterly, as she reached the door. "He doesn't care for
homely people."
The judge looked annoyed. "I wish she were not so self-conscious and
sensitive!" he exclaimed.
"She hasn't seemed well for some time," said her mother, apologetically.
"It might be a wise thing to have the doctor see her soon. The next time
Agnes drops in I shall speak to her."
"If the child is ailing, have her come at once," said the judge, decidedly,
and a few minutes later he was at the telephone, sending a message for
Doctor Agnes Mayne to call that evening, if possible.
Instead of going to her own room, Alida opened the door of the old
nursery, turned on the gas, and began searching through closets and
drawers. At last she found the object of her search, a little portfolio in
which she had laid away some of her childish treasures, as her older
sister had done. Kneeling on the floor beside it, she took out the
valentines it contained and counted them. There were only six--all that
she had ever received; and now she noticed that each little lace
envelope was addressed in her father's familiar handwriting. She had
failed to see that in those earlier years.
"So, really, St. Valentine has never brought me anything," she thought,

bitterly, "and he never will! I wonder how it feels to be loved and
admired by everybody, as May is!"
Going into her own room, she sat down before her little mahogany
dressing-table, and tilting back the oval mirror, studied the reflection in
it. As she looked, the tears began to roll down her cheeks, and finally
she crossed her arms on the table and laid her head on them with a
choking sob. There was a knock at the door presently, but she paid no
attention. It was repeated, and then some one came in softly, pausing as
she saw the girl's dejected attitude.
Alida looked up, "Oh, Doctor Agnes!" she exclaimed; then, despite a
strong effort to control her nervous tears, down went her head on the
table, and she sobbed harder than before.
Doctor Agnes Mayne was the warm friend of all the family, and on the
most familiar footing with them. As she was a woman of strong
personal magnetism, and knew just how to win Alida's confidence, it
was not long before her judicious questions had drawn out the reason of
the girl's grief. After Alida had finished her recital of the conversation
at the dentist's, there was a long silence.
"Well, Alida," said Doctor Agnes at last, "what you need is a dose of
definitions, and I am going to give them to you at once. I wish you
would go to your dictionary and look for the word 'homely.' That seems
to be such a bugbear to you."
Much surprised, Alida crossed the room and opened the ponderous
volume on her writing-table. While she ran her finger slowly down the
page, the doctor continued: "It has several definitions, but the original
meaning was homelike, and it is only in that archaic sense that I want
you to take it. Now, what is given as the definition of homelike?"
"Comfortable; cheerful; cozy; friendly," read Alida.
"Now look for comfortable," directed the doctor. "Not any modern
meaning. I want the good old ones that have become obsolete."

"Strong; vigorous; serviceable; helpful," read Alida again.
"Now just one word more," said the doctor. "Find cozy, the meaning
that the English give it."
Alida searched the columns a moment and then read: "Chatty; talkative;
sociable."
"There!" exclaimed the doctor, taking the girl's feverish wrist in her
firm, cool hand. "That is my prescription