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AUNT HENRIETTA'S MISTAKE

BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.

"Before thy soul, at this deep lottery,
Draw forth her prize ordained by destiny,
Know that there's no recanting a first choice;
Choose then discreetly."

"Heigh-ho! This is Valentine's day. Oh, how I would like to get a
valentine! Did you ever get one, aunty?" said little Etta Mayfield.

"Yes, many of them. But not when I was a child. In my day children
were children. You get a valentine! I'm e'en a'most struck dumb with
astonishment to hear you think of such things. Go, get your doll-baby,
or your sampler, and look on that. Saints of Mercy! It seems only
yesterday you were a baby in long clothes," answered Miss Henrietta
Mayfield, a spinster of uncertain age; but the folks in the village,
who always knew everything, declared she had not owned to a day over
thirty-five for the last ten years. This, if true, was quite
excusable, for Miss Henrietta's little toilette glass reflected a
bright, pleasant, and remarkably youthful face.

"I'm almost seventeen, aunty, and I'm tired of being treated like a
child," said Etta, with a pout of her rosy lips.

"Ten years to come will be plenty time enough for you to think of
such things. A valentine, indeed! I'd like to know who is to send one
to you, or to any one else. There are only three unmarried men in our
village; which of them would you like for your valentine; Jake Spikes,
the blind fiddler; Bill Bowen, the deaf mail-boy, or Squire Sloughman?
If the squire sends a valentine, I rather guess it will be to me. Oh,
I forgot! There's the handsome stranger that boarded last summer with
Miss Plimpkins. I noticed him at church Sunday. Come down to make a
little visit and bring Miss Plimpkins a nice present ag'in, I guess.
He is mighty grateful to her for taking such good care of him while he
was sick. A uncommon handsome man. But 'taint a bit likely he'll think
of a baby like you. He is a man old enough to know better--near forty,
likely. He was monstrous polite to me; always finding the hymns, and
passing his book to me. And I noticed Sunday he looked amazing
pleasing at me. Land! it's ten o'clock. You'd better run over to the
office and get the paper. No, I'll go myself. I want to stop in the
store, to get some yarn and a little tea."

Miss Henrietta hurried off, and little Etta pouted on and murmured
something about:

"People must have been dreadful slow and dull in aunt