myself than to buy them."

"So do I, Arthur," mother said, "and I think if you look through those
papers in the lower drawer you'll find some pictures to cut out that
would make pretty valentines. Then you could color them with your
paints and paste them on a sheet of note paper."

"But, mother, don't valentines have some verses written on them
besides the pictures? Aunt Frances' did. Where can I get those?"

"Perhaps I could write those for you," mother laughed, "if I tried
real hard."

"Could you really write verses?" Arthur asked in round-eyed wonder.
"Then we'll have some lovely valentines, won't we? I'll make one for
you, and one for father, and Alice and John and Clifton and Barbara
and oh, lots of folks."

"Well, I guess you better get to work right away, if you've such a lot
to do," advised mother, "and I had better begin on the poetry."

It was fun to find the pictures, for there were such a lot to select
from, and by supper time Arthur had a nice pile all ready to paint
next morning.

Two days before Valentine's day they were all done--prettily colored
and pasted on note paper with a little verse that mother had written,
printed in Arthur's very best writing.

[Illustration: _Arthur decorates the valentines with his new paints