St. Nicholas/Volume 32/Number 4/Pinkey Perkins
By Captain Harold Hammond, U.S.A.
I. How “Pinkey” Achieved his Heart’s Desire.
ALENTINE DAY” was fast approaching, and “Pinkey” Perkins was daily growing more and more despondent. He was deeply in love, and how to secure a suitable offering to lay on the altar of his devotion was what puzzled him. His own finances aggregated exactly sixteen cents, and he shrank from enlisting his mother’s aid, because of his hesitation in admitting to any one the infatuation he had fostered for weeks.Pinkey could net bear to think ef some other boy sending Hattie Warren a bigger and a costlier valentine than he did—or, in fact, sending her any valentine at all. If another suitor did send her one, she would very likely learn his name bby finding his initials discreetly concealed in some obvious place on the valentine, or by some broad hint spoken in her presence. Pinkey was very formal in his ideas of propriety, and heartily disapproved of such methods as being contrary to the rules of valentine etiquette.
Pinkey’s school-teacher, Miss Vance,—or “Red Feather,” as she was universally known among her pupils,—had consented, after days of persuasion by the girls, to allow a “valentine-box” in school on that important day. The pupils could deposit their anonymous love- tokens in the box at any time during recreation hours, and there would be a distribution of the same just before dismissal time, both at noon and at four o’clock.
It was on this occasion that Pinkey hoped to show the affection he cherished for his Affinity, by sending her a valentine which should be, beyond question, the most elegant of all.
The prettiest valentines in town were to be found at the “Post Office Book Store,” owned and conducted by Mrs. Betts, a widow to whom an economical postmaster rented a part of the large room used as post-office.
The valentine upon which Pinkey had set his heart was a large, fancy, lace-paper creation, over a foot square and nearly two inches thick. it was composed of several layers, held apart by narrow accordion-like paper strips. In the center were two large embossed hearts, one overlapping the other and both pierced by arrows fired from the bows of half a dozen cupids distributed around the border. At each corner and at the top and bottom were profusely decorated scrolls, on which were printed, “I adore thee,” “Wilt thou be mine?” and other touching phrases. The light upper part was hinged to the heavier back, on which, in fancy type, were these lines:
And the joy ‘t would bring to me
If my own and onliest treasure
Forever you would be,
All your doubt and vain misgiving
Would be changed to love like mine,
And our lives would be worth living,
For you ‘d be my Valentine.
This valentine was easily the handsomest one in town, and, besides, it expressed Pinkey’s sen-timents so perfectly that it drove him to the depths of despair to think that he could not buy it for his Affinity, It cost a whole dollar, and having, as he did, but sixteen cents, and lacking the assurance to ask credit for the remainder, he felt doomed to disappointment.
If Pinkey had been in the book-store once to see that valentine, he had been there twenty times. He came ostensibly ta inquire for the mail, but invariably remained to gaze long and fondly into the show-case at the coveted prize, and to picture to himself the joy it would bring to the heart of his Affinity to receive it. Not even to “Bunny” Morris, his bosom friend, did he confide his burning desire to buy it. He felt it would not be doing right to her if he should trespass on the sacred ground of his infatuation by talking about it.
Do not think that Pinkey was the only one who saw and admired the valentine. Others of his age, and perhaps older, had longed to buy it; but the price was beyond the reach of all.
Whenever any one of Pinkey’s school-fellows came into the store while he was there, he would edge aimlessly away from the show-case toward the counter where the comic valentines were displayed. Three times, to his knowledge, within the week preceding Valentine Day, his Affinity had stopped before the show-case where reposed the large lace offering and had openly admired it. Pinkey was, of course, apparently oblivious to all this, but who can say that his Affinity’s hopes were not realized as her comments fell on alert ears? Once Pinkey had heard her actually price it, and his heart gave one great bound, then stood still. If she should purchase it, would she send it to him? Oh, what joy! But
“Pinkey remained to gaze long at the coveted prize.”
Going home from school on the afternoon before Valentine Day, Pinkey, as usual, stopped at the post-office to inquire for the mail and to take one last look at the unattainable. He had given up all hopes of purchasing the large valentine, and had decided to invest his slender means in one of the smaller and, for him, very unsatisfactory substitutes.
There were several people in the store, most of them children bent on the same errand as Pinkey. He looked at all the valentines whose prices were within the limits of his funds, and at last selected one that seemed to him the best he could do for the money.
As he stood there, waiting to make his purchase, he saw a boy, older and larger than himself, pick up from the floor a fountain-pen which had fallen from a card on which several were displayed, glance furtively about him, and then drop it into his overcoat pocket and deliberately walk out of the door. Mrs. Betts had her back turned at the time, and so knew nothing of the occurrence.
Pinkey was much disturbed by what he had seen. His first impulse was to tell Mrs. Belts; but, before he had a chance to do so, he dropped that suggestion of his conscience as being decidedly unwise. Pinkey had no desire to become a party to the deed by keeping mum, but he was only a boy, and he did have a wholesome regard for his own bodily welfare. He knew that if he told on the culprit the latter would “lay for” him, as Pinkey said to himself, and he also knew only too well how he should fare in the result.
While he was studying over the matter another idea struck him, which, while it involved a deal of uncertainty, would, if it succeeded, accomplish the same result and at the same time be of benefit to himself Pinkey pondered long and hard over the matter. He counted his pennies over and over, and at length decided to try his scheme, though it meant the postponement of his purchase until noon the next day and might prevent it altogether.
So, without even spending the one penny he had set aside for a “comic” to send to Red Feather, he left the book-store and went home.
Next morning he felt rather guilty as he went with the crowd to school, being one of a very few who were not carrying one or more jealously guarded envelops to be deposited in the box.
When Pinkey reached the school-house he immediately instituted a search for the boy with the fountain-pen. It was Pinkey’s intention to procure the pen, if possible, and return it to Mrs. Betts, having in view its restoration to the rightful owner as well as the possibility of
“Pinkey saw a boy pick up a fountain-pen.”
Pinkey soon located a group of boys in the basement, and rightfully surmised they were “trading.” He approached the group, and there, sure enough, among the participants in the arguments attending exchange, was the boy he was seeking. He was engaged in a discussion of the relative values of the fountain-pen, in its present empty state, and a four-bladed, bone-handled, “I X L” knife. The owner of the knife argued that “I X L” was a solemn guaranty of “razor-steel,” while the boy with the pen declared that ‘‘X L N T” were the mystic letters that denoted that quality.
Not desiring to betray special interest in the pen, Pinkey devoted a few moments of his attention to other bargains that were being driven with all the arts known to the juvenile trades-man. Some boys were “dropping knives.” “Whole blade or no trade,” and “Red leather, trade forever,” were the usual iron-clad agreements that made the exchange binding.
Presently Pinkey turned his attention to the unsettled argument concerning the knife and pen. It was plain that harmony of opinion was out of the question, and Pinkey felt this a good opportunity to make the effort to procure the pen.
“What ‘ll you take for her, Jimmy?” he inquired, assuming an indifferent air.
Jimmy did n’t know just exactly what he desired most, and asked Pinkey what he had to trade.
Pinkey gets the pen.
“Ain't got nothin’ much here to trade, but I ‘ll give you ten cents for her if you want to sell 'er.”
This put new life into the transaction—cash, owing to its chronic scarcity, being invariably above par. But Jimmy must not appear anxious and ruin his chances for a rise.
“Aw,” he argued, “she’s worth more 'n that. She ’s worth a quarter, anyhow.”
“Ain’t got a quarter; give you twelve cents,” said Pinkey, knowing he must bargain closely, and not daring to name his limit too rapidly.
“Naw; gimme twenty cents—that’s cheap,” pleaded Jimmy.
Pinkey protested that the pen would not write as it was, and that it might be no good even if it was filled.
This was a damaging possibility; so, after the necessary final arguments, Pinkey finally secured the coveted pen for the munificent sum of fifteen cents and a jews’-harp “to boot.” After he had concluded his bargain he retired from the market, and no amount of temptation could induce him to part with it.
The morning seemed interminable as Pinkey restlessly awaited the dismissal time, when he could retum the pen to Mrs. Betts. When noon at last came, and Red Feather was distributing the valentines, Pinkey, without even waiting to see if there were any for him, hurried off to the post-office, tightly clutching in his hand the fountain-pen. He was filled with a mixture of satisfaction at the success that had so far attended his efforts, and concern as to the ultimate outcome.
Rushing in the door, he fairly thrust the pen into the hands of the astonished Mrs. Betts, saying: “I saw a boy pick this pen up off the floor yesterday and carry it away with him, and to-day I traded him out of it and brought it back.” It was some moments before Mrs. Betts could definitely grasp the meaning of Pinkey’s burst of speech. When she did recover from her surprise, she began to question him as to the boy’s identity, but Pinkey stoutly declined to divulge it. He gave as his reason that the boy was bigger than he and would “lick him” the first time he caught him out.
In spite of Pinkey’s reticence, Mrs. Betts knew him too well to attach any suspicion whatever to him, She pressed him with reasons why he should tell her for her own protection, and he was finally persuaded to whisper in her ear the boy’s name.
(it may be stated here that this information caused her to be on the lookout whenever Jimmy was in the store, and resulted in eventually bringing him to the bar of parental justice.)
Not desiring to allow such apparently artless honesty to go unencouraged, Mrs. Betis began to look about for some tangible reward. While doing so, she remembered how, during the holi-days nearly two months previous, Pinkey’s sole desire in life had been to receive an air-gun outfit for Christmas. Day after day he had come in and fondled the precious rifle and hoped it might fall to his lot; but his hopes had not been realized, and he had been heartbroken for weeks afterward. So she decided that would be about the most acceptable gift she could bestow.
Taking from the shelf the bright-colored box containing the entire outfit—gun, target, arrows, and all,—she turned to Pinkey, saying: “Pinkey, here is the air-gun you wanted so badly last Christmas. I want you to accept it from me as a remembrance for returning the pen.’
When Pinkey heard this he was between two fires. His former desire for the air-gun, which could now be his, returned with all its old-time fervor, and yet his more recent longing for the valentine was unabated. A dozen times, during the five minutes he had been in the store, his eyes had wandered irresistibly to the show-case where it still lay unpurchased.
Twice, while Mrs, Betts was wrapping the box in heavy paper for him to carry home, he attempted to ask that the valentine be substituted for the air-gun, and twice the words refused to come. As she placed the box in Pinkey’s arms, he gave one hopeless look at the valentine, muttered some unintelligible thanks, and started for the door.
But love for his Affinity finally prevailed, and, turning resolutely about, he marched back to the counter and laid the box down, saying: “Mrs. Betts, if you ’ll let me, I ’d like to trade this air-gun for that big valentine over there. It don’t cost near as much as this, but I ’d lots rather have it,”
To say that Mrs. Betts was surprised would be putting it mildly; but since Pinkey was the one to be satisfied, she was perfectly willing that he should choose what suited him best, especially as the valentine, from her point of view, was much the less valuable article.
When the exchange was effected, Pinkey was surprised to find how happy he felt, and he ran all the way home to show the valentine to his mother. He was bursting with exuberance and must unburden himself to some one, so he naturally chose her. He told her how he had longed for the valentine, but hated to ask her for the money to buy it, fearing she would think him foolish to want to send such an expensive one. He told her all about the fountain-pen
Pinkey gets the Valentine.
He was too happy to detect a misty look in his mother’s eyes as he concluded his story by asking her to address the valentine for him—“because,” he bashfully admitted, “she ’d know my writin’.”
Pinkey could scarcely eat his dinner, so anxious was he to get back to school and deposit his valentine in the box before anybody saw him. It was such a large affair that, if it were once seen, it would attract immediate attention and be recognized later.
As his Affinity entered the room, just before the study-hours began, Pinkey thought he noted a serious expression on her face. He had not remained to see whether she received a valentine at noon, and down deep in his heart he hoped she had not, and that this might be the cause of her despondency.
Throughout the long afternoon she seemed very much depressed, and not once, to Pinkey’s knowledge, did she even glance in his direction. But her solemnity could not temper his elation as he thought of the great, beautiful valentine peacefully reposing at the bottom of the box.
When school was dismissed and Red Feather, with unbending dignity, began distributing the valentines, Pinkey felt his heart beating away like a steam-hammer. At last his name was called, and he marched boldly up to the platform. He opened the envelop, and found, to his disgust, that he had received a “comic,” a terrible caricature of an artist, no doubt suggested to the donor by Pinkey’s habit of drawing pictures on his slate.
This raised his ire to the boiling-point. He was thinking deep threats of revenge, if he ever found out who sent it, when his name was called a second time.
This time he received a real valentine. It was a very small edition of the kind he had mailed to his Affinity! He studied the address critically, It had been printed by an unpractised hand, and at first he could obtain no clue whatever to the sender. Then he recognized the “J.” Nobody on earth but his Affinity could make a “J.” like that. Instantly he forgot his “comic” and the thoughts it had aroused in him, and a feeling of peace and general good will pervaded his entire being. When Red Feather announced that the last valentine had been distributed, Pinkey’s heart sank in him like a stone. What had become of the offering for his Affinity? He turned and whispered savagely to Bunny Morris, who was standing beside him and the only person there whom he would dare take into his confidence:
“‘Miss Harriet Warren,’ she read.”
Bunny did as he was bid. Red Feather searched the box carefully, and there, snugly filling the whole bottom, was the large, flat package which, in the shadows, she had overlooked.
“Miss Harriet Warren,’” she read; and as Pinkey saw his’ Affinity’s face brighten as she looked squarely at him and blushingly approached the platform, he felt repaid one hundred times over for the sacrifice of the air-gun.
Hattie Warren was at once surrounded by all the girls in the room, whose curiosity, getting the better of their envy, stimulated the desire to inspect at close range the valentine they all had admired in the show-case.
“Who sent it?” “Who sent it?” was the cry that came from all sides.
“Look at the wrapper,” suggested one. “Whose writing is it?” They looked, but it was familiar to no one.
“Look on the inside of the box,” “Look on the back of it,” were some of the further suggestions from the curious ones.
After inspecting it all over, one of the girls detected some letters and figures on the back of the valentine, written diagonally across one corner. These were at once investigated, as possibly furnishing a clue to the giver’s identity.
“E. L.” shouted one of the girls. “Eddie Lewis sent it, and it cost a dollar!”
This announcement staggered Pinkey. He thought 1t must be a joke, until one after another verified the telltale letters. He could in no way account for the initials of his rival being on the back of the valentine, for it had not been out of his possession after he received it until he placed it in the box. He was beside himself with indignation and perplexity. He hoped Eddec Lewis would speak up and deny sending it; but, instead of so doing, Eddie assumed a knowing, mysterious look, and said nothing.
All this was too much fer Bunny Morris’s sense of justice; and, without waiting to see what Pinkey was going te do, he blurted out: “Pinkey Perkins sent that valentine. Eddie Lewis did n’t have anything to do with it.”
Every one looked at Eddie, to see what he would do. Instead of defending himself against Bunny’s accusation, as they expected, he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and said evasively, “I never said I sent it.’ A minute later, when attention became centered on Pinkey, Eddie silently opened the door and left the room.
Pinkey tried to look unconcerned, but he made a dismal failure. He tried to assume a vexed air, but he only grinned and blushed to the roots of his hair.
But what could the letters “E. L.” signify, if not Eddie Lewis? No one else in school had the same initials. As a last resort, Red Feather, who was by this time ready to depart from the noisy throng, was consulted. She saw through the mystery at once.
“‘E. L.,’” said she, “is the cost-mark. It is n’t anybody’s initials.”
If there were any possible remaining doubts as to who sent the valentine, Pinkey forever dispelled them by chasing Bunny Morris madly around the room, and out of the door into the yard, shouting as he ran, “Bunny Morris, if you ever tell on me again, I ’ll—”
The threat was lost in the distance.
