a baby, then as a sub-sub-deb, and now as a sub-deb. Next year, when you
are a real Debutante----"

"You've concealed your infatuation bravely."

"It's been eating me inside. A green and yellow melancholly--hello! A
letter to him!"

"Why, so it is," I said in a scornfull tone.

He picked it up, and looked at it. Then he started and stared at me.

"No!" he said. "It isn't possible! It isn't old Valentine!"

Positively, my knees got cold. I never had such a shock.

"It--it certainly is Harold Valentine," I said feebly.

"Old Hal!" he muttered. "Well, who would have thought it! And not a word
to me about it, the secretive old duffer!" He held out his hand to me.
"Congratulations, Barbara," he said heartily. "Since you absolutely
refuse me, you couldn't do better. He's the finest chap I know. If it's
Valentine the Familey is kicking up such a row about, you leave it to
me. I'll tell them a few things."

I was stunned. Would anybody have beleived it? To pick a name out of the
air, so to speak, and off a malted milk tablet, and then to find that it
actualy belonged to some one--was sickning.

"It may not be the one you know" I said desperately. "It--it's a common