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diff --git a/36429-0.txt b/36429-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e38ee83 --- /dev/null +++ b/36429-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5071 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Randy's Summer, by Amy Brooks + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Randy's Summer + A Story for Girls + +Author: Amy Brooks + +Release Date: June 15, 2011 [EBook #36429] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RANDY'S SUMMER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + Popular Stories + By AMY BROOKS. + Each Beautifully Illustrated by the Author. + + The Randy Books. + THREE VOLUMES READY. 12MO. CLOTH. + STRIKING COVER DESIGN BY THE AUTHOR. + + RANDY’S SUMMER. Price $1.00 + RANDY’S WINTER. Price 1.00 + RANDY AND HER FRIENDS. Price 80 cents, net + + + For Younger Readers. + A JOLLY CAT TALE. Large 12mo. Cloth. + Profusely Illustrated. Price $1.00 + DOROTHY DAINTY. Large 12mo. Cloth. + Cover Design by the Author. Set in large English type. + Price 80 cents, net + + + + +[Illustration: “With the Book upon her Lap, and one Arm around her +Little Sister” Page 24] + + + + + RANDY’S SUMMER + + A STORY FOR GIRLS + + BY + + AMY BROOKS + + WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR + + BOSTON + LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS + 1902 + + + + + Copyright, 1900, by Lee and Shepard. + _All Rights Reserved._ + RANDY’S SUMMER. + + Norwood Press + J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith + Norwood Mass. U.S.A. + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + I Randy and the Fairy Tales 1 + II At the Brook 16 + III Randy at Church 37 + IV Prue’s Mishap 52 + V Helen Dayton’s Call 70 + VI The Picnic 88 + VII Randy Outwits Jason Meade 111 + VIII Tableaux 124 + IX Callers 146 + X The Apple-Bee 173 + XI An Unexpected Visitor 199 + XII A Wedding Feast 218 + + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + “With the book upon her lap, and one arm + around her little sister” Frontispiece + + Randy and Prue started for the brook 23 + + Prue counts the daisies on Miss Dayton’s hat 46 + + Randy carrying Prue in her arms 58 + + On the way to the picnic 98 + + “Nearer to the wall she crept” 115 + + “There stood Randy as the demure little maid” 139 + + Prue and Tabby reading the Fairy Book 170 + + “‘Why don’t you send the little girl a letter?’” 191 + + “At the head of a long table stood Helen Dayton” 225 + + + + +RANDY’S SUMMER + + + + +CHAPTER I—RANDY AND THE FAIRY TALES + + +“Randy! Randy! where are you?” came in shrill, high-pitched tones from +the kitchen. + +The girl on the wooden seat just outside the door neither moved nor +heeded, so engrossed in her book was she. + +“Ran-dee!” This time there was a rising inflection on the last syllable. +Slowly the girl’s forefinger followed along the line which she was +reading. A quick step across the kitchen, and a tall, angular woman +appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her blue-checked apron. + +“Why, Randy Weston! Here I’ve been callin’ and callin’ to you, and +you’re right here at the door and never heard at all, I’ll warrant you. +What’s that you’re readin’?” + +“Oh, mother, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you,” said Randy, her face still +aglow with the thought of the fascinating tale; “but the story was so +wonderful that I never knew you called me.” + +“Must have been wonderful,” said Mrs. Weston, smiling. “What sort of a +book is it, and where did you get it?” + +“Why, it’s the one I told you I found in the field back of the barn,” +said Randy. “It’s all about kings and queens, and princes and fairies, +and goblins, and oh, it’s just the most wonderful book you ever saw!” + +“I hope it’s a _good_ book,” said Mrs. Weston, doubtfully; “it sounds +kind of outlandish, and I know one thing, I never have to call twice +when I give you ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ or Fox’s ‘Book of Martyrs’ to +read.” + +“But, mother, just see the pictures! Here’s the one that shows when the +prince rode on the horse which was shod with golden shoes, and could run +faster than the wind!” + +That was too much for practical Mrs. Weston. + +“Look here, Randy, that’ll do! That shows what kind of a book it is. Who +ever heard of shoeing a horse with gold! Land knows it costs enough to +shoe them with iron; and as for running faster than the wind, why, +anybody’d know better. You give me the book till I ask your father what +he thinks of it. I’ll put it up on the mantel, back of the clock, and +show it to him to-night and see what he says.” + +As Mrs. Weston usually meant what she said, Randy was forced to submit; +but she could not help thinking it a trial to have to do without the +wonderful book until her father should have time to read it. + +“Now,” said Mrs. Weston, “come in and help me make these pies.” + +“Oh, yes,” said the girl; while she thought, “What a change from the +prince’s castle to the hot kitchen and apple pies!” However, she was a +thoughtful girl, and seeing a tired look on her mother’s face, she took +a big yellow dish on her lap, and grasping a knife began to pare apples +as if her life depended upon it. + +The first she pared rapidly and deftly, the next one took her a little +longer, and the sixth she held in one hand while the knife lay idly in +the other, as she gazed out of the window, wondering if the hot, sunny +road which led to the village could be at all like the high-road over +which the king’s huntsmen returned to the castle. + +“Randy Weston! I thought you was parin’ apples! Bring the dish here and +we’ll finish them together. At that rate you wouldn’t get them done in a +month!” + +Randy started. “Oh, dear! I meant to have peeled them in no time,” said +she. + +“Well, never mind,” said her mother; “we’ll do them together, and then +you can get out the things for me to make the crust with.” + +Soon the apples were pared, cored, and sliced, and away Randy hurried to +the closet, getting the sifter, sugar-bucket and rolling pin, the spice +box, and last of all, a lot of plates. + +Running back to the closet she brought out the lard and began to grease +the plates in furious haste, so determined was she to show her mother +that she was really willing to be helpful. How she admired the deft +manner in which her mother rolled out the crust, stretched it over the +plate, and inserted her knuckles to make it fit the hollow of the dish. + +Randy watched her as, balancing the crust-covered plate on her left +hand, she swept the knife which she held in her right swiftly around the +edge of the plate, trimming off the extra crust. + +“I wish I could make pies as quick as you can,” said the girl, “and have +them turn out right every time, too.” + +Mrs. Weston smiled at the compliment so earnestly expressed. + +“Mebbe you can, when you’ve made as many as I have,” said she. + +“Now get the broom, Randy, and sweep up the flour I spilled ’round the +table and put the apple peels in the bucket, while I commence to wash up +the cookin’ dishes.” + +Randy got the broom and began to sweep vigorously. “I wonder,” thought +the girl, “if princesses have to bake pies, and wash dishes, and sweep +hot kitchens.” She could not remember of any mention being made of +either pies or kitchens in the fairy tales which she had been reading, +so she concluded that in those delightful days no such things existed. + +“They _must_ have had pies,” she said to herself, “so p’r’aps they had +somebody to bake for them, same’s Mrs. Hodgkins has Sophrony Brown to +help her about the housework. + +“Sophrony Brown doesn’t look ’s if she belonged in a castle, even to +stay in the kitchen, if it had one,” thought Randy. “Her hair’s red, and +so are her hands, and they’re awful big, too. Everybody in that splendid +book was handsome, and they all had little white hands and tiny feet, +too.” Here she stopped and took a long survey of her own feet, encased +in coarse, cowhide boots, with leather lacings. + +“The shoes and slippers in the pictures,” mused Randy, “have beautiful +bows on the toes, and they have tiny little heels. I wonder how they +ever managed to walk on them.” So still she stood, looking down at her +shoes, the broom held listlessly in her hand, that her mother turned to +see where she had gone. + +“Why, Randy Weston, what ails you? You’ve been mooning ’round all this +morning. You do try to help me real good, and then, first thing I know, +you’re miles away thinkin’ of something or other. I say, whatever ails +you?” + +“Nothing,” said Randy, “I was only wondering about the fairy tales in +the book.” + +“Well, more’n ever I think it can’t be a good kind o’ book to read, that +makes a good, sensible girl so took up with it that she can’t think of +anything else.” + +“But if father says it’s all right, I can read it, can’t I?” said Randy. + +“I suppose so,” said the tired woman. “Now go and find Prue. Like enough +she’s into something by this time.” + +Little Prue had a positive talent for inventing mischief, and as Randy +hastened to the door to call her, she remembered that the little sister +had had at least an hour in which to play without supervision. “I do +hope,” said Randy, “that she hasn’t torn her dress or lost her sunbonnet +while I’ve been helping mother with the cooking. I’ll call first, and if +she don’t answer, then I’ll hunt for her.” So, standing in the doorway, +she called long and loudly. + +Such a pretty picture Randy made, all the sweeter because she never +dreamed that she possessed the beauty of which she read in the fairy +book, and for which she so ardently longed. + +The kitchen doorway was low, and up on one side grew scarlet runners, +which over the top clasped tendrils with the morning glories as they +clambered up the other side of the door-frame and half covered the +kitchen window. + +The cool wind from across the meadow fanned Randy’s flushed cheeks, and +tossed back some short brown ringlets from her forehead, for Randy’s +hair would curl, as she said, “spite of anything.” She did her best with +brush and comb to make it lie smoothly, but the short ends flew back +every time, and curled and rippled in a manner which would have been the +envy of many a city girl who was a slave to “curlers.” Her hair was a +soft, light brown, and her eyes were large and gray, bright and +twinkling. She was quite tall for a girl of her age, just fifteen that +summer, and she stood as “straight as a birch,” her father said. + +Her plain calico gown and coarse apron could not hide her trim figure; +and, judging by her small, shapely hands, and slender fingers, one would +say that with dainty boots instead of cowhides, her feet would be as +shapely as her hands. But Randy had never thought much about beauty or +personal adornment until the finding of the wonderful fairy book. She +had been dressed like the other children in that little country town, +and had never seen a fashion book or a stylishly dressed person in her +life. Mrs. Weston had taught her children to think that to be neat and +clean was to be well dressed, and certainly Randy and Prue were always +dressed in clean gowns and aprons, and stiff-starched sunbonnets. Yes, +Randy was more than pretty. Would she one day know it? + +Long and patient calling brought no answering shout from little Prue, so +Randy snatched her sunbonnet from its peg on the wall, and started in +search of her. She looked in every place, both possible and impossible, +and she laughed as she thought of the funny scrapes the little sister +had gotten into. She thought of the day on which their aunt, Miss +Prudence Weston, had come to visit them, bringing three bags and as many +bundles, although she was to stay but a week. + +She had always lived in a little town in one of the Western states, and +as that week’s stay was her first visit to her brother’s home, she was +really a stranger to Randy and Prue. The children had known only that +little Prue was her namesake, and that she was a person well-nigh +perfect. + +“Your Aunt Prudence never did that,” was a remark so frequently +addressed to little Prue that that lively, mischievous little being +conceived a great dislike for so perfect a person; and, although she +dared not say so to either father or mother, she confessed it freely to +Randy when at night they lay in their little bed in the chamber under +the eaves. + +“I think it would be just horrid to live in this house if Aunt Prudence +lived here too, don’t you, Randy?” said little Prue in a loud whisper. +“You’re good, Randy, and you know I love you, but you can be naughty and +Aunt Prudence can’t, that’s the difference.” + +“Oh, hush!” Randy had said. “I most think it’s naughty not to like her. +We don’t know but may be she’s real nice if we knew her.” + +“Don’t want to,” whispered Prue, “don’t want to, _ever_. If she staid +here I’d—I mean I’d—” but the tired little sister had gone fast asleep +and left Randy to wonder just what she would have done. + +Immediately upon her arrival Miss Prudence had removed her wraps, and +had at once taken out her knitting from a voluminous pocket, saying to +the two staring children, as she peered at them over her glasses, “It’s +not right to waste time,” and as soon as they had made their escape to +the kitchen, naughty little Prue had said, “Randy Weston! If keeping +busy would make me look like that, I’d just do nothing forever and +ever.” + +Funny little Prue! Aunt Prudence’s sharp eyes behind her spectacles, her +“false front,” and tall, angular figure, had strengthened the child’s +preconceived dislike. Then that day before their aunt had bidden adieu +to the Weston farm, Randy had caught Prue perched upon a chair, which +made her just high enough to see herself in the glass. On her head was +Miss Prudence’s best cap, on her saucy little nose the big, +old-fashioned spectacles, over which she peered at herself, saying, in +imitation of her aunt, “I never waste time, no, not a single minute.” + +Randy had escaped to the barn where, on the hay, she had laughed until +she was tired; all the time feeling guilty, for she knew that, funny as +the sight had been, Prue had been very naughty. Prue was a little +captive in the house that afternoon, a great trial for her, and at night +her father had talked with her and told her that she must always be kind +to every one, especially to old people, and Prue had promised, at the +same time saying that, “if Aunt Prudence was always good, it was easier +for grown-up people to be good.” + +Around the house and barn, down by the well, and, lastly, into the barn +went Randy, calling, “Prue! Prue! where are you?” + +“Here!” called a little voice. + +“Where?” shouted Randy. + +“Up here!” came the answer, which appeared to come from the loft. + +Up the ladder went Randy, and, once at the top, she espied a funny +little figure sitting on the hay. “Why, Prue,” said Randy, “what are you +doing up here? Why didn’t you come when I called?” + +“I couldn’t,” said Prue; “I’m helping mother, and I’ve got to stay. +Mother said you could help her make pies, so I came up here and I’m +sitting on some eggs. The old hen’s left them, and mother said they’d +just got to be set on.” + +“Oh, Prue!” said Randy, “you’d ought to know better. If you’ve smashed +them, won’t you be a sight?” + +“I ain’t smashed them,” said the child; but upon Randy’s insisting, she +rose from the nest, only to show that not an egg remained whole, as her +pink calico dress plainly showed. + +“Well, _I_ never got into such scrapes,” said Randy, for once out of +patience. + +“Now, Randy,” said Prue, “don’t you talk that way; that’s just like Aunt +Prudence;” and that silenced Randy completely. + +Randy’s first thought was a longing to shield Prue, but she knew that +her mother wished them always to come to her at once when any mischief +had been done, so, a forlorn little procession of two, they walked +toward the house. + + + + +CHAPTER II—AT THE BROOK + + +The next morning dawned bright and fair. Randy awoke and rubbed her +eyes. “I believe there was something that made me uncomfortable +yesterday. Wonder what it was?” thought she. “Don’t see what it could +have been,” mused the girl, half awake. “I helped mother with the baking +and swept the kitchen for her, because I knew I ought to, instead of +reading that fairy book. Then I hunted for Prue.—Oh, that’s it! mother +had to scold her, and that always makes me feel just awful. + +“She was naughty, and seems ’s if she might know better than to get into +such queer scrapes, though she isn’t much more than a baby.” + +Here Randy turned over and looked at her little sister, who was still +fast asleep. “How pretty she looks!” said Randy, half aloud. The +sleeping child stirred, and thrust one chubby arm and hand under her +short curls. She drew a long breath, which was half a sigh, her eyelids +quivered, opened, closed, then opened wide, and she stared at Randy, +who, leaning upon her elbow, was gazing at little Prue. + +“Oh, Randy! what are you looking at and thinking of?” said Prue, half +laughing. + +“I was just thinking,” said Randy, “that when you’re asleep you don’t +look as if you could ever be naughty.” + +Prue stopped laughing, and, putting her arm around her sister’s neck, +she said, “Oh, Randy! I never mean to, and ’most always when I’m naughty +it’s when I’m trying to help. Don’t you know that time when I dropped +the platter and broke it all to smash? Mother put down the towel she was +wiping it with to look in the oven to see if the bread was burning. I +thought I’d s’prise you and mother, and show you I’d wiped the big +platter nice and dry. Just a minute before, mother said it was too big +for me to handle, and that just made me want to.” + +“I know it,” said Randy, “I know you mean to be good, and I do believe +you can’t help doing funny things, you best little sister in all the +world,” and she kissed Prue, laughing at her at the same time. “Now, do +be good to-day, and, if you don’t do a naughty thing before dinner, I’ll +do something splendid. I’ll have to help mother this morning, and do a +lot of things. Then, of course, I’ll wipe the dinner dishes, and after +that you and I will go down to that shady place by the brook, and I’ll +tell you some of the stories I read in that book I found.” + +“Oh, will you?” said Prue, “can you ’member them?” + +“Yes, some of them; I can’t remember all of them yet,” said Randy. + +“Why don’t you take the book and read them?” said Prue. + +“Because,” said Randy, “father’s got to look it over and see if it’s a +good book first, mother says.” + +“Why isn’t he ’fraid to read it, if p’r’aps, it isn’t good?” said the +child, with such a funny expression on her face that Randy, who really +did not know how to answer such a question, laughed, and said she +thought it must be time to dress. + +Up sprang little Prue, and out upon the floor. “You dress me first,” +said she. So Randy put on the little one’s shoes and stockings, then, +piece by piece, her other little garments, all the time silently +admiring the round, dimpled arms, the roguish eyes, and tangle of short +curls, and the sweet little mouth, honestly believing that no girl in +all the world had so dear a little sister. Just as Randy turned to +button the little dress, Prue uttered a joyous cry, and darted over to +the window. + +“Oh, come quick, quick!” she called. “See the butterfly almost coming in +our window.” And sure enough, when Randy reached the window, there he +was, a gorgeous fellow, with bright, golden wings, swinging up and down +over a fresh rose-colored morning-glory. + +“Oh!” cried Prue, “isn’t it the handsomest butterfly you ever saw?” + +“Yes, and look at the dewdrops on the pink morning-glory,” said +imaginative Randy; “I wonder if the necklace that the fairy queen wore +looked as bright as that? In the picture in the book it looks just like +strings and strings of beads.” + +“I liked the beads and her dress, with a long train to it; but in the +picture she didn’t have a nice face ’t all,” said Prue, the young +critic. + +“Oh, but she was bea-utiful,” said Randy. “She must have been, the story +said so,” but just here Randy’s raptures over the heroine of the fairy +tale were cut short by a loud call of “Randy! Randy! Prue! it’s time to +come downstairs!” + +So Randy hurried on her own clothing, and Prue amused herself while +waiting by counting the buttons on Randy’s best gingham dress as it hung +on the first hook in the closet, and this is the way she half said and +half sung it:— + +“Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, doctor, lawyer,—Randy, what’s a +lawyer? Your last button is a lawyer.” + +“I don’t know,” said Randy; “ask father;” but when they had reached the +lowest stair and entered the kitchen Prue had forgotten her question and +asked another. + +“Father,” she cried, “have you read the book yet? Are you going to let +Randy read it? the fairy book, I mean?” + +“Two questions in one,” said Mr. Weston, laughing. “Why, yes, I guess +I’ll have to let her read it, if she wants to,” said he. + +“Going to let Randy read those outlandish tales?” said Mrs. Weston +coming out of the closet with a pie in her hand, which she placed upon +the table. “Why there wasn’t a word of truth in them.” + +“I know it,” said her husband, smiling, “but I didn’t see anything wrong +about them, and the yarns that are in the book are so big that no +sensible girl, like our Randy, would s’pose she was expected to believe +them a minute. I looked it over last night after I’d thought over that +piece of medder land of Jason Meade’s that he wants to swap for my +little pasture, and cal-lated ’bout what the bargain was worth. I just +took down that fairy book from behind the clock, and I thought I’d just +look it over to see if it was all right for Randy and Prue, and, if +you’d believe me, ’fore I knew it, I was ’most as interested as the +children was. As you say, there ain’t any sense in it, but it reads +kinder fine, I must say.” + +Mrs. Weston laughed, and said that she was willing enough to let them +have it if the book was all right. + +“Right enough,” rejoined her husband, “only kind of foolish,” and +smiling at the children’s eager faces he said kindly, “Read it if you +like, only don’t let it make you forget to help mother, Randy.” + +[Illustration: Randy and Prue started for the Brook] + +“Randy don’t often forget that,” said Mrs. Weston, at which unwonted bit +of praise, Randy flushed with delight. + +Mrs. Weston was a hard-working woman who loved her husband and children +dearly, but so busy was she, that she forgot to say the encouraging +word, or give the bit of praise, justly won, which seems a reward to the +husband for his care and toil, and to the child for “being good.” + +When the hot forenoon’s work was done, and the dinner dishes put away, +Randy and Prue started for the brook, Randy carrying the wonderful book +very carefully, and little Prue skipping along beside her. Across the +fields, behind the barn, into a bit of woodland went the children, and +there they found the brook, calm and placid in one place, rippling and +chattering in another. “Hark! hear it talk,” said Randy, but practical +little Prue said, “It only says ‘wobble, wobble, wobble,’ as it goes +over the stones, and I don’t call that talking.” + +“Well, I do,” said Randy, “and I always wonder what it says.” + +“How’ll you find out?” said Prue. + +“Oh, Prue!” said Randy, “what makes you ask questions that nobody could +answer?” + +“But somebody could,” said the child; “if it really says anything, +somebody, somewhere, would know what it means, now wouldn’t they, +Randy?” + +“I do believe there is some one who could understand it.” Randy spoke so +earnestly that Prue stopped throwing pebbles at the water-spiders and +throwing her arms around Randy, she said, “Oh, Randy! don’t look that +way. When your eyes get big, and you just think and think, it makes me +lonesome. Do begin to read the fairy stories.” + +So Randy roused herself from her dream about the brook, and sat down, +with Prue close beside her, on a rough plank which spanned the tiny +stream. There, with the book upon her lap, and one arm around her little +sister, she read the tales of wonder and enchantment, while the +sunlight, sifting through the leaves, touched her hair and made a halo +around the sweet face. Parts of the stories were too much for little +Prue to understand, but such of them as her small brain could take in +delighted her. + +Randy read very well, although she had had but little schooling, and her +delight in the splendor which the stories described gave added +expression to her reading, and delighted little Prue exclaimed, “Oh, +Randy, you make it seem as if it was true!” + +Randy laughed, well pleased with the compliment, and continued reading: +“‘And as soon as she heard the witch’s voice, she unbound her tresses.’” + +“What’s ‘tresses’?” interrupted Prue. + +“Why, hair,” explained Randy. + +“Then, why didn’t they say ‘hair’?” said the child. + +“Tresses sounds nicer,” answered Randy. + +“I don’t know,” said Prue, doubtfully. + +“Well, I do,” said Randy. “If my hair was long, I’d enough rather have +it called tresses.” + +“I’ll call it tresses,” said obliging little Prue, “even if it isn’t +very long. Now, go on, Randy.” + +So Randy continued: “‘She unbound her tresses, and they fell down twenty +ells, and the witch mounted up by them.’” + +“Oh, my, my!” interrupted Prue, “your hair’s longer’n that!” + +“Longer than what?” said the astonished Randy. + +“Twenty ells,” said Prue. “When you showed me the other day how to print +a L, it wasn’t very big. Would twenty of ’em be so very much? Your hair +is most down to your waist, when I stretch the ends out so they don’t +curl.” + +“O you funny child!” said Randy, half laughing, half impatient. “It +doesn’t mean that kind of ell. What’s the use of reading the stories? +You ask so many questions, I don’t believe you half hear them.” + +“Oh, I do truly want to hear the stories, and if you’ll only read, I +won’t ask a question, ’less it’s something I can’t make out.” + +Again Randy found the place, and for some time the story went on without +interruption. Once they paused to see the picture of the lovely girl in +the tower, then Randy went on:— + +“‘The king’s son wished to ascend to her, and looked for a door in the +tower, but he could not find one. So he rode home, but the song which +she had sung had touched his heart so much that he went every day to the +forest and listened to it. As he thus stood one day behind a tree, he +saw the witch come up and heard her call out:— + + “‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, + Let down your hair.’ + +“‘Then Rapunzel let down her tresses, and the witch mounted up.’” + +“Oh, Randy!” cried Prue, excitedly, “why, didn’t it ’most pull her head +off?” + +Randy laughed. “O Prue, Prue!” she said, “I do believe you think of the +funniest questions to ask.” + +“But, Randy, do you b’lieve it didn’t pull like everything?” And Prue’s +eyes were round with wonder. + +“Oh!” said Randy, “don’t you know that father said we wouldn’t be +expected to believe the stories, only just enjoy them?” But the little +girl looked bewildered; so, closing the book, Randy sought other means +to amuse her. “Let’s play this is a beautiful bridge, this plank we’re +sitting on, and this brook, a great big river,” said Randy, “and we’re +princesses waiting for a prince to come and save us—I mean rescue us,” +she corrected. + +Again little Prue showed her lack of imagination. “Save us from what?” +said she. + +“Oh, dragons that live in this big, roaring river.” + +“It don’t roar much,” said Prue, doubtfully; “but,” she added, “we can +play it does.” + +Thus encouraged, Randy went on, giving her fancy full play. “And that +pretty green branch overhead, with sun on the leaves, that’s an arch of +flowers such as the princess rode under in another story.” + +That was too much for Prue. “But, Randy!” she exclaimed, “there isn’t a +blossom on it. If we were princesses, Randy, I could love you just the +same, couldn’t I?” questioned Prue, looking up at her sister with eager +eyes. + +“Of course you could,” said Randy, giving Prue a hug, who thus assured +began to hum a little tune, swinging her legs to keep time with her +singing. They made a pretty picture, Randy with her arm still about the +little sister, Prue nestling as close as possible to Randy, and in the +brook below a reflection showing the two children. Randy was looking off +as if for the coming of the prince, while little Prue, becoming drowsy, +laid her head against her sister. + +Suddenly Prue started: “S’pose that’s the prince?” said she, as a low, +merry whistle sounded through the woods. Randy looked toward the +opening, then her laugh rang out. “Oh, Prue,” said she, “it’s ’Bijah +Bowstock, the deacon’s hired man, going after the cows. Just look at +him!” she added. And Prue looked. + +Little enough like the prince in the fairy book looked he! An old straw +hat upon the back of his head, a blue “jumper,” and a pair of overalls +tucked into his boots, completed his costume. He did not see Randy and +Prue as he passed through the woods to a path far beyond the brook, +whisking off the blossoms with his switch as he went along. + +“His clothes wasn’t the kind the prince wore in the picture, was they, +Randy?” said Prue, when ’Bijah was out of sight. “In the picture in the +fairy book they wear such long, long stockings way over their knees, and +hats with feathers in them, and everything,” said Prue, intending thus +to supply all the details of costume which she might possibly have +omitted. + +Randy made no answer. Little Prue felt as many a grown person does, that +the clothes made the man; but Randy, thoughtful Randy, felt that, given +all the fine raiment, ’Bijah never could have even _looked_ the prince. + +Little Prue edged her way along the plank on which they sat, and at last +succeeded in slipping off from the end of the board down to the edge of +the brook. There she found bits of bark which she freighted with moss, +and then floated them down the tiny stream. + +The little crafts, aided by a gentle push, floated out into a placid +little pool just under Randy’s feet. For an instant they paused, +wavered, then turning about they flew over the miniature rapids, made +there by three small stones below the surface, then sailed around a bend +in the brook and disappeared behind a clump of brakes growing at the +foot of an alder. + +Sometimes the tiny boats foundered, and the passengers were tipped out +into the stream, but little Prue found other bits of bark for the boats +and gaily loaded them with moss for more passengers. + +“Look, Randy! Look!” screamed Prue, “there’s a fine new boat just under +your feet. The gray moss is mens, and the moss with the red tops is +womens. The red is their bonnets. Randy, Randy! why don’t you hear me +when I’m close to you?” + +Randy shook herself and sat upright, laughing. “I did hear you,” she +said, “only I didn’t think to answer. I guess I was dreaming.” + +“Well, don’t dream in the daytime!” said Prue; “I’ve sent lots and lots +of pretty boats down the stream, and I kept telling you to look, and now +I don’t believe you’ve seen one of them.” + +“Oh, yes, I have,” said Randy, “only I was so busy thinking that I +didn’t say anything about them. Come, we’ll sail a few boats together, +and then I guess we’d better go home.” + +Prue was delighted, and to reward Randy for agreeing to play with her, +she hunted with all her might for finer pieces of bark and choicer bits +of moss, and gay indeed was the little fleet with its red-capped crew +and passengers. Prue wandered off to find even finer mosses, and Randy +was trying to capture a big water-spider for a passenger for a piece of +birch bark, when Prue came rushing down the path, crying, “Look, Randy! +Look! Here’s old Mr. Plimpkins to sail in one of our boats.” + +In her surprise Randy let the water-spider escape, and, turning about, +saw Prue quite alone, running toward her, laughing and holding out +something which she had in her hand. + +“Prue Weston! what do you mean?” said Randy. + +Old Mr. Plimpkins was a farmer who lived at the outskirts of the town, +but Prue had seen him at church, and she thought him the funniest man +she had ever seen. + +He was nearly as broad as he was tall. Winter and summer, he habitually +wore very broad-brimmed hats, and he walked with a comical waddle, +because his legs were completely bowed. As if to attract attention to +these members, they were always encased in light, snuff-colored +trousers, while about his neck, hot weather or cold, was always wrapped +an immense red plaid cotton handkerchief. + +As Prue came along, she handed out to Randy the object which she called +Mr. Plimpkins, and, sure enough, clutched tightly in the little hot +hand, was a bit of twig on which two stems bowed together until they +nearly touched. On it, for a broad-brimmed hat, she had stuck a round +green leaf. + +“Oh, I think it must be naughty to laugh about him, even if he is +funny,” said Randy. + +“But doesn’t it look like him?” persisted Prue, “besides, _you’re_ +laughing, Randy, only not out loud.” + +Indeed, Randy was laughing, so, without attempting to reprove the little +sister, she placed the bit of birch, which represented the old farmer, +on the bark, and watched Prue as she floated it down the stream. Then, +turning toward home, they walked along the path which led to the +entrance to the wood. + +Prue sang all the way, and, seeing her happiness, Randy, sweet Randy, +felt rewarded for the afternoon given up to her little sister’s +amusement; but she felt that the reading of the fairy tales was not a +success. Clearly, the stories were beyond little Prue; for, at the +supper table, when there was a pause in the conversation, she described +the afternoon and Randy’s reading, much to Randy’s surprise and her +father’s amusement. + +“Oh, father!” she exclaimed, “we’ve been down to the brook, sailing +boats, an’ Randy read me the beautifulest story! The girl’s name +was—I’ve forgotten what, but her hair comed down to the ground, and the +prince clumb up on it, and ’most pulled her head off, and the tower was +so small the old witch couldn’t live in it, and she cut her hair off, +and that’s all I can think of, ’cept the girl sang all the time, and the +prince could hear her, and we sat on the plank and waited for the prince +to come.” + +All this she said in one breath. Her father laughed heartily at her +manner of telling the story, but Mrs. Weston said, “What on airth does +the child mean?” while Randy decided to read the stories to herself, +thereafter, and amuse Prue in another way. + + + + +CHAPTER III—RANDY AT CHURCH + + +“Come, Randy, come! It wants a quarter to ten, an’ you’d better hurry.” + +“Yes, mother, I’m coming,” said Randy, pleasantly, and with redoubled +energy she reached for the middle button of her dress waist, which was +fastened at the back. This button was just too high for her left hand to +reach up to, and almost too low for her right hand to reach down to, but +at last she succeeded in crowding the refractory little button into its +buttonhole, and, flushed with the struggle, she stood before the tiny +looking-glass brushing a stray curling lock from her temple. The glass +was a poor one, and Randy’s reflection appeared to be making a most +unpleasant grimace at the real girl standing there. When she lifted her +chin, a flaw in the glass made one eye appear much larger than the +other, and when she bent her head, you would never have believed that +the little nose in the glass was a reproduction of Randy’s, so singular +was its contour. Truly, with such mirrors as the farm-house afforded, +Randy stood little chance of becoming vain. + +“Come, Randy!” Randy started, took one more look at the stiff gingham +dress, then hastened down the stairs. At the door stood Mrs. Weston, +impatiently waiting for her, while little Prue patted the old cat and +told her that she “mustn’t be lonesome while they were all at church.” + +Into the wagon they climbed, and away they started to the church. Their +progress was slow, for the old horse was far from a “racer” at any time, +and on Sunday Mr. Weston felt it to be wrong to more than walk the +horse; yet, even with such slow locomotion, they did at last reach the +church, and the old horse was duly ensconced in the carriage-shed to +dream away the forenoon. + +The Westons had arrived a bit early, and Randy amused herself surveying +the few parishioners who had already come. In that country town the +neighbors were few and far between. The Westons’ nearest neighbor was +about a mile and a half distant, and so on Sundays it was quite a treat +to see so many people. + +There were the Babson girls just a few pews in front of Randy. Randy +thought Belinda Babson very pretty, mainly because of her fine yellow +braids of straight hair. These braids lay down Belinda’s broad back, +falling quite below her waist. + +Her sister Jemima’s braids were even thicker and longer; but then, Randy +reflected, Jemima’s braids were red. + +There was Jotham Potts, whose black eyes always espied Randy at church +or school, but whose regard she did not at all value. True, on one hot +Sunday when Randy had found it well-nigh impossible to keep awake, +Jotham had reached over the top of the pew and dropped some big +peppermints in her lap. His intention was good, and Randy blushed and +was delighted, although her pleasure was partly spoiled by a snicker +from Phœbe Small, who longed to win Jotham’s admiration, but thus far +had failed to gain it. Randy had inspected every boy and girl in the +church and was just watching a big blue fly that was circling around a +web in the angle of the window, when a slight stir among the occupants +of the other pews caused Randy to look around and become delighted with +a sweet vision. With Farmer Gray and his wife came a number of ladies +and gentlemen; summer boarders who were to be at the Gray homestead a +number of weeks; but to Randy’s eyes, the young lady who took a seat +next to Mrs. Gray seemed a dream of beauty. She wore a simple white +muslin and a very large hat trimmed with daisies, but to the little +country maid the city girl’s costume was nothing short of magnificent. + +It had always been Randy’s delight when the choir arose to sing, to +watch Miss Dobbs, the little woman who sang soprano, as she drew herself +up to her full height in a vain attempt to catch a glimpse of the page +of the hymn book, the other half of which was held by Silas Barnes, the +phenomenally tall tenor. Equally amusing was the tall, thin woman who +sang “second,” standing beside her cousin, John Hobson, who sang bass +with all his might. He was short, fat, and very dark, and his musical +efforts, which were mighty, caused a scowl upon his usually jovial +countenance, and a deal of perspiration as well. + +But to-day when the choir arose, Randy had no eyes for any one but the +Grays’ lovely boarder, and she almost held her breath as she wondered if +the girl would sing. + +The tall tenor touched his tuning fork, the choir sounded the chord, +then choir and congregation joined in singing the old missionary hymn, +“From Greenland’s Icy Mountains,” and round and full rang out the sweet +contralto voice of the tall, fair girl in white. + +Randy was spellbound. She had never admired that hymn, but to-day it +sounded sweeter than anything she had ever heard. Little Prue looked at +the singer with round eyes, and as they sat down she clutched Randy’s +skirts and in a loud whisper said, “Oh, Randy, do you s’pose she is the +fairy princess?” + +“Oh, hush!” said Randy, alarmed lest the young girl should hear the +child. + +Did she hear her? She sat in the pew just in front of the Westons’, and +when Prue whispered her eager question, a faint suggestion of a smile +hovered about the lovely mouth, and a bright twinkle glimmered for an +instant in her beautiful eyes. + +Just then Parson Spooner arose, gave out the text, and commenced one of +his long sermons. He was a good man, with a kindly word and smile for +every one, and all of his people were devoutly fond of him. The people +liked him, and he always had a pleasant chat with every child whom he +met, and most of them thought that he was “lots” nicer on week-days than +on Sundays. On week-days he talked with the boy whom he chanced to meet +with his fishing-rod over his shoulder, and laughingly wished him good +luck. Or, if it happened that the small owner of a home-made kite could +not make it fly, the genial parson had been known to tie a new bob +(usually a few weeds tied together) to the tail of the refractory kite, +and off it would sail to the delight of the small boy and his clerical +friend. + +But on Sundays, his sermons, delivered in a drowsy sing-song, tried the +patience of his small parishioners. Prue and Randy settled down as if +for a long day of it, and Randy resolved that, however long the sermon +might be, she would not get sleepy; whereupon, she stretched her eyes to +their fullest extent, and stared at nothing so persistently, that Prue +became uneasy, and whispered, “What’s the matter, Randy? you look so +queer!” + +“Nothing,” said Randy. “I just mean to keep my eyes open, that’s all.” + +“They _are_ open, just monstrous!” said Prue, at which Randy could not +help laughing. As the little girl was not aware that she had said +anything that was at all funny, she thought Randy’s amusement quite out +of place, and sat quietly for a few moments, in injured silence. + +Randy tried very hard to attend to the sermon, but in spite of good +intentions, her mind wandered from Parson Spooner’s flushed face, as he +proceeded to make his meaning clear by loud vocal efforts, and to +enforce his meaning by many thumps of his fat fist upon the pulpit +cushion. + +Mrs. Brimblecom sat over by the window, slowly waving a palm-leaf fan to +and fro, and occasionally nudging her husband, to keep him awake. In +front of her, sat Joel Simpkins, his sandy hair brushed so carefully +that not one hair was awry, and just across the aisle, Janie Clifton +sat, in all the glory of a new pink calico. Janie’s black curls were +very pretty, and she knew it; and her bright, black eyes had been +pointedly praised in an alleged poem, which had appeared in the county +paper a few weeks before. It was entitled the “Black-eyed Coquette,” and +Janie felt sure that Joel had written it, in which case, its boldly +expressed flattery could have been meant for none other than herself. +Accordingly, she shook her curls, and occasionally looked at Joel, in a +manner which Randy considered shockingly bold, and she wondered if, at +eighteen, she could act like that. She decided that she could never be +so bold, not even if the object of her admiration looked like a prince. + +She thought, too, that Joel was very ordinary; then she looked again at +the girl in the daisy-trimmed hat and white muslin gown, and fell to +wondering how fine and handsome a prince would have to be to gain her +favor. + +“Probably there isn’t any one in these parts that would please her,” +thought Randy. “’Tisn’t only her clothes,” mused she, “it’s something +else that makes her different from the folks around here.” + +All this time Prue had been unusually still, and Randy looked to see if +she was asleep. The little girl was very wide awake, and sat staring at +the large hat in front of her, her lips moving as if she were counting. +Prue’s manner of counting was something unique, and as Randy bent her +head to listen, she could hardly help laughing, for this is what she +heard:— + +“One, two, four, five, two, six, ten, nine, two,—oh, Randy, there’s more +daisies on her hat than I can count. Are they truly daisies? If they +are, why don’t they wilt?” + +“Hush-sh-sh,” said Randy. “Keep still and watch that big bumble bee +that’s just come in the window.” + +[Illustration: Prue counts the Daisies on Miss Dayton’s Hat] + +“Hear him bum,” said Prue, thus making Randy laugh again. She felt very +wicked, laughing in church, and knew that her father would not approve; +but how could she help laughing, for while she watched the bee, and +wondered where he would fly next, little Prue watched him, too, all the +time softly imitating his monotonous tune by saying under her breath, +“bum, bum, bum.” + +The heat increased, and Prue looked out of the window at the green +branches moving in the breeze, and longed to be out there, too. At last +the bee tired of the church and flew out of the window, and just as +Randy was thinking that she could not bear the heat, Parson Spooner’s +sermon came to an end. He had become entangled in his own eloquence; and +seeing no way to extricate himself, or make his meaning clear, he +abruptly closed his sermon and suggested singing the Doxology. + +After the service Mrs. Gray stopped to talk with Mrs. Weston, and then, +to the mingled delight and embarrassment of Randy and Prue, the +beautiful stranger turned, and, stooping, spoke to the little girl. + +“How very good you have been,” said she, “to sit still this long, hot +morning. Do you know I had some candy in my pocket which I longed to +share with you, but I didn’t like to turn quite around, as I should have +had to, to give it to you. Let me give it to you now, and you and your +sister can enjoy it during the long ride home. See!” And from a pretty +chatelaine bag which hung from her belt, she took a small box of +bonbons. “If I give you this, will you give me a kiss?” And she stooped +and placed the gift in Prue’s eager little hands. + +For an instant the child hesitated; then shyly she lifted her face, and +as the young girl stooped to take the kiss, Prue’s pudgy little arm went +around her neck. + +Then, turning to Randy, she extended her hand in its dainty glove, +saying, “I have seen you and your sister many times when I have strolled +past your home, and once, when you were standing near the tall clump of +sunflowers, watching the bees, I was tempted to stop and chat with you +awhile.” + +“Oh, I wish you had,” said Randy, so eagerly, that the girl laughed +merrily, saying, “Well, the next time I am out for a walk and am going +up the long hill, I will make you a little call.” + +Just at that moment Mrs. Weston’s friendly chat with her neighbor came +to an end, and with her usual hasty manner she hurried the two children +out of the church and into the old wagon. Mr. Weston gathered up the +reins, and with a loud “g’lang” and a few jerks, the old horse seemed to +awaken from his forenoon’s nap in the carriage-shed and ambled a few +steps, then subsided into the habitual jog. + +“Look, mother, just see what she gave me,” said Prue, swinging the tiny +package of bonbons before her mother’s eyes. + +“What is it?” said her mother; “who gave it to you?” + +“The princess,” said Prue, as plainly as she could, considering the size +of the bonbon which she was eating. Mrs. Weston looked puzzled, and +Randy, helping herself to a bit of the candy, explained:— + +“It was that beautiful, tall girl with Mrs. Gray. She gave Prue the +candy for being good and keeping still this morning, and she’s coming to +see me soon’s ever she takes a walk past our house, and isn’t she the +handsomest person that ever lived?” + +“Wal’, I don’t know as I noticed,” said Mrs. Weston. + +“Why, how could you help seeing her?” said Randy, in amazement. + +“Wal’, I s’pose I did see her, but I didn’t ’specially notice her, ’cept +that she was talkin’ to you children, for Mrs. Gray was tellin’ me a new +way to make cookies with two eggs instead of four, and I made her tell +me twice so’s I’d remember; two eggs is quite a savin’.” But this new +bit of economy was lost on Randy. + +“Did Mrs. Gray tell you her name?” asked Randy, eagerly. + +“Seems to me she said it was Dayton, or something like that, but I was +so took up with that two-egg rule for cookies that I didn’t notice.” So, +failing to interest her mother, Randy subsided. + + + + +CHAPTER IV—PRUE’S MISHAP + + +Down the long, dusty road trudged Randy and Prue one hot morning on +their way to the village store. + +At every step the dust arose like smoke, then settled upon their shoes, +making a thick coating like that which whitened the blackberry vines +growing luxuriantly over the wall by the roadside. + +Randy was far from pleased to be taking this long walk in the dust and +heat. She had been sitting upon the rough, wooden seat just outside the +kitchen door, reading the beloved fairy book, when her mother had +stepped briskly to the doorway, calling her back from fairyland +abruptly, saying: “Come, Randy, you must go down to the store after some +sugar. I’ve got my cookies ’bout half done and my sugar’s given out, so +you must put on your sunbonnet and take Prue, and go as quick as you +can. Ye needn’t run, only don’t waste time.” + +“Oh, mother,” said Randy, “it’ll take me twice as long if I have to take +Prue, she’s so little, and she walks so slow.” + +“I know it,” said Mrs. Weston, “but I’ve got lots to do while you’re +gone, and I can’t watch her and work at the same time; so you take her +’long o’ you, and I’ll know she’s all right.” + +Randy took her sunbonnet from its peg on the wall and called little +Prue, who was playing in the sun. The child’s delight when told that she +might go to the store with Randy made the elder girl regret that she had +demurred when told that she must take her little sister with her. + +Prue laughed with delight, and, thrusting her little sunburned hand into +Randy’s, she trudged along, scuffling her feet and laughing to see the +dust rise in little gray clouds. + +At any other time Randy would have checked Prue, but that day her mind +was too much occupied with the heroine of the fairy tale to notice +Prue’s movements or comment upon them; but Prue was getting tired of +walking in silence, while Randy indulged herself in day-dreams. + +“Why don’t you talk, Randy? You haven’t talked any since we started,” +said Prue. + +“Oh, it’s too hot to talk,” answered Randy, and she once more relapsed +into silence. + +Prue dropped Randy’s hand, and, leaving the road, she clambered upon the +wall to hunt among the dusty vines for blackberries. There were more +leaves than fruit, so the little girl, after finding a few small +berries, walked along upon the wall until she came to another lot of +vines, where she again searched for fruit. + +While Prue looked for berries Randy was critically inspecting her own +and her little sister’s costume. How ugly they looked! The girl who, up +to that time, had never seen any one arrayed in anything more beautiful +than a print or gingham gown, varied by a long apron of blue-checked +cotton, or a dark, chocolate-colored calico, now looked with startling +dislike upon that style of apparel. + +“Only think,” mused Randy, “if we wore white dresses and fine shoes, and +big hats, ’twouldn’t seem near as hot doing errands. Seems as though we +could sit still in meeting if we had on different clothes and—why, Prue, +what’s the matter?” cried Randy, in answer to a doleful wail from the +little sister. + +“Oh, my foot, my foot!” screamed Prue; “it hurts drefful, and I can’t +get it out.” + +“Let me see,” said Randy. “Hold still a minute; I can get it out, Prue,” +which, however, proved to be easier said than done. While walking upon +the wall the little foot had slipped between the stones and seemed +firmly fixed. + +Randy worked gently and patiently, and at last the little foot was out +of prison. Prue insisted upon having her shoe and stocking taken off, +saying that her foot felt “awful big,” and sure enough it had become a +trifle swollen. Randy tried in every way to soothe her, assuring her +that it was but a short walk to the store, but Prue wailed dismally. + +“Oh, I can’t walk, Randy, my foot aches just drefful, and I can’t have +any shoes on, ’cause my foot has grown big.” + +Randy blamed herself for the mishap. “I ought to have been taking care +of Prue instead of thinking of fine clothes,” thought Randy. “It ought +to have been me that got hurt instead of little Prue. ’Twould have +served me right for being real silly, almost vain, I do believe.” And +thus she berated herself. + +Poor, repentant Randy! Careless she had been, but surely not wicked. She +was utterly at a loss to know what to do. “Don’t you think you could +walk slowly, Prue, if I put my hands under your arms to help you?” she +asked coaxingly. + +“Randy, how can I walk when this foot is most twice as big as my other +foot?” said Prue. + +Randy thought a moment. Then she said: “There’s only one thing to do, +Prue. You can look right down the road and see the store from here. You +sit still where you are, and I’ll run and get the sugar; it won’t take +but a few minutes, and when I get back I’ll carry you home in my arms. +You can hold the sugar and I’ll carry you.” + +Prue tried bravely to stop crying, and although she declared that her +foot felt “worser,” she promised to be patient until Randy should +return. The store was in the front part of a farm-house but a short +distance from where the two sat upon the wall, and Randy rushed off down +the road and in at the open door, in such evident haste that Silas +Barnes looked at the girl in amazement. + +“In a kind of hurry, ain’t ye?” said he, as in his usual deliberate +manner he weighed the sugar. + +“Yes, oh, yes,” answered Randy, as she almost snatched the bundle and +darted out of the door and ran up the road to where Prue sat upon the +wall, a most disconsolate little heap, trying very hard to be brave, but +sobbing in spite of all endeavor. + +“Now, you carry the sugar—just think what a sweet bundle—and I’ll take +you. My arms are real strong, so I believe I can carry you easily.” + +Prue hugged the parcel, and taking her little sister in her arms Randy +stepped out bravely toward home. It seemed to her that she could not +remember such intense heat as she that day experienced. They had taken +off their sunbonnets as they sat upon the wall, and in their haste they +had started for home, leaving them where they had dropped them, so that +their heads were unprotected from the scorching rays of the sun, which +was now directly overhead. + +[Illustration: Randy carrying Prue in her Arms] + +Many times Randy was obliged to set Prue upon the wall, just long enough +to rest her aching arms; then taking her again, she bravely trudged on +toward home. + +Just as she concluded that her arms would surely break, she heard the +sound of wheels behind her, and looking over her shoulder she saw +Obadiah Gray’s old mare, Clover, jogging along and in the wagon the +beautiful young girl whom she had so much admired at church. + +“There’s that pretty girl whom I saw in church last Sunday,” thought +Helen Dayton. “How much prettier she looks without that ugly sunbonnet. +Why, she has her little sister in her arms, and the little one is +crying. I’ll stop and speak to them.” Old Clover, always delighted to +stop, came to a standstill, and Randy looked up shyly at Helen’s +beautiful face. + +“Are you not tired?” said Miss Dayton. “I see that you are carrying your +little sister.” Then, as she noticed the swollen foot, she said: “Oh, +how did she hurt her foot? Do let me take you home.” + +Randy was only too glad to accept the invitation so sweetly given; so +Prue was gently lifted to a place beside Miss Dayton, and then Randy +clambered in, not only thankful for the ride, but positively charmed to +be with the lovely driver. + +“Now, tell me,” said Helen, “how your little sister injured her foot.” +So Randy told her the whole story, and blamed herself more than she +deserved. “If I hadn’t been wishing that I had a big, beautiful hat +like”—but here Randy stopped abruptly, as she noticed, for the first +time, that Miss Dayton was wearing the very hat and dress which so +filled her mind that morning. + +“What was the hat like? Anything like the one I am wearing this +morning?” asked Helen, sweetly. + +“Well, yes, just like it,” admitted Randy, blushing. + +“Did you so much admire my hat?” said Helen. “Well, who knows but that +on some fine day you may have one quite like it.” + +When, at last, they had reached Randy’s home, both Prue and Randy had +become quite well acquainted with their new friend. + +Mr. Weston had just come in from the field, in answer to a blast from +the dinner horn, and was as anxious as his wife when told that the +children had been gone two hours and a half. “I guess I’ll have to +harness up and go down to the store and see if they’re—sakes alive! Here +they be now, with that ’stonishing pretty boarder of Obadiah Gray’s,” +and Mr. Weston hastened down the walk to thank the young lady for her +kindness. + +“I’m much ’bleeged to ye for bringing the children home; mother and I +was getting anxious. Randy, here, is going on fifteen, and pretty tall +of her age, but we still call them the children, and Randy, she’s +reliable; so, when she don’t appear at the right time, we know that +something’s up. Why, Prue, where’s your shoe and stocking?” + +“Oh, father,” said Randy, “you won’t say I was reliable this time.” + +“Now, Mr. Weston,” said Helen Dayton, “Randy blames herself for Prue’s +injured foot, but she has bravely carried her little sister up the long +hill from the store, and I think accuses herself too harshly.” + +“Like enough,” said Randy’s father. “Randy’s conscience is all out of +proportion to her size.” Then, once more thanking Helen heartily for her +kindness, he took little Prue into his arms saying, kindly: “There, +there, little daughter, I wouldn’t cry any more. You’re home now, and +mother’ll know just how to fix your foot all right; and, Randy, ye may +have let yer thoughts wander, so to speak, but you didn’t make Prue hurt +her foot, and ye’ve more than made up fer it all by bein’ so truly +sorry, and tryin’ to bring her home. She’s a little girl, but she’s +solid for a girl of your size to carry. ‘Stead of blamin’ and accusin’ +yourself, you just help mother to make Prue comfortable, and then you +amuse her with the fairy book, and, may be, she’ll forget how bad her +foot aches.” + +“I’ll do it,” said Randy, delighted to think that she could in any way +be useful to her little sister, and so well did she amuse her that in +the middle of the sixth fairy tale Prue was sound asleep. + +As soon as Mrs. Weston had seen the little foot, she had given it a bath +in hot water, bound securely about it a hot bandage, and told little +Prue that she must be quite still. + +“I will, if Randy will read to me,” said Prue. So Randy read story after +story, until the little sister was asleep. + +Randy sat beside her, intending to read to her again if she awoke, but +Prue had cried with the aching foot until she was very tired, so she +slept soundly. Once she stirred, and thrust her chubby hand under her +head, murmuring as she did so. Randy bent over her, to hear what she +said. + +“The big stones squeezed my foot, so course it wasn’t my Randy did it,” +murmured Prue. “My Randy wouldn’t do such a thing to me. My Randy’s just +about right always and she—” but here her voice faltered and that which +commenced in a sentence ended in a sigh. A bright tear glistened in +Randy’s gray eyes. How lovingly little Prue held her above the +possibility of anything wrong. + +“I must try hard to be as good as Prue thinks I am,” thought Randy, and, +bending, she kissed the little one ever so gently so as not to awaken +her; “for,” thought Randy, “while she sleeps she doesn’t know her foot +aches, and when she wakes I’ll read or do anything she wishes me to, to +amuse her.” + +And Randy kept her promise. The injury, although not serious, was quite +painful, and Prue declared that Randy was “’most an angel,” so patient +and entertaining was she, reading the same story over and over again if +it chanced to please her. + +In a few days Prue was able to be about, and Randy was every bit as +happy as her little sister, to see that the swelling had disappeared and +the wee foot back to its usual size. There was one story with which Prue +seemed the most pleased and which she wished oftenest to hear. + +That was the story of the “Sleeping Beauty,” but it mattered not how +many times she heard it, she never could tell it straight. + +One day Prue’s mother said that the little girl would be wise if she +rested her foot all the afternoon. “I’ll sit still on the ‘lunge,’” said +Prue, “if you’ll listen to a bea-utiful story called the ‘Sleeping +Beauty.’ I guess I can tell it ’most right; do you want to hear it, +mother?” + +Now this was a trial to Mrs. Weston’s patience. She had glanced hastily +at a few pages of the fairy book and had declared it to be “clear +foolishness,” adding, “if it amuses Randy and Prue, I do’no as I care; +but it puzzles me how they can enjoy it.” + +But, thinking to please her little daughter and make her willing to sit +still, she promised to listen attentively to Prue’s narrative, adding +under her breath, “I guess I can stand it for once, if it is foolish.” +So she handed the book to Prue, who declared that, although she couldn’t +read, she could tell the story better by looking at the pictures. + +Mrs. Weston brought her sewing to the window nearest the lounge where +Prue sat as if enthroned, and the youthful entertainer commenced at once +to tell the story as she remembered it. As Randy afterward said with +stifled laughter, “If that is the best Prue could tell the story with +the pictures to help her, how much more could she have twisted it +without the book?” + +“Once upon a time (they all commence that way),” said Prue, “there was a +little girl so be-autiful that folks ’most went crazy who saw her, an’ +her father was tickled to see how handsome she was when she was a baby; +an’ one time when she was fifteen (that’s what Randy is)—no, I forgot, +when the baby, that’s the princess, you know, was a bein’ +chris-chris-chris-tened, there was a lot of fairies that bringed her +presents, and one was mad because she didn’t be invited, and she did +something awful, but I’ve forgot what. + +“Then the beautiful princess went to sleep a hun-dred years” (here +Prue’s eyes grew round with excitement), “and she grew older and older +every minute—no, no, she didn’t. I mean she didn’t grow older a’ tall.” + +Here Randy turned hastily to gaze out of the window, and Prue, +fortunately, failed to notice her sister’s very evident effort to +conceal her amusement. + +“Then everybody in the house—no, palace—went sound asleep and snored, +and they never waked up ’til the prince kissed them—oh, no, he only +kissed the princess. Mother, why do you s’pose he didn’t kiss anybody +but the princess? Shouldn’t you a thought he would?” + +Without waiting for an answer, however, Prue babbled on. + +“They was married and lived happy ever after, and all the folks waked +up, and the horses, and cows, and cats, and dogs, all wagged their tails +’cause they was awake too. Isn’t that a wonderful story?” + +“I should say it was,” ejaculated practical Mrs. Weston. “Nothing less +than wonderful.” + +Mrs. Weston folded the garment which she had been mending, and saying, +kindly, “That was a long story for a little girl to try to tell,” she +went out to the kitchen to make preparation for tea, leaving Prue still +looking at the pictures in the fairy book. Randy stole out to the +kitchen. + +“Oh, mother,” she said, looking up wistfully, “I know you think it funny +that I can like fairy stories almost as well as Prue does; but, truly, +Prue does not tell them straight. They’re not true, of course, but they +do sound pretty when you read them straight through instead of ‘mixed +up’ as she gets them.” + +“I know, of course,” said her mother, “that Prue has a funny way of +telling anything. If you enjoy the stories, I’m sure I don’t care, only +don’t ask me to read them. I want to read something that’s somewhat +probable,” and Randy was obliged to be satisfied with that. + +Mrs. Weston’s mind was utterly void of imagination, and to read to her +of magic locks, of sleep which, lasting a hundred years, left the +sleeper youthful and beautiful, of wild wishes granted, of people turned +to stone, and back to life again, simply tried her patience and amused +her not at all. + + + + +CHAPTER V—HELEN DAYTON’S CALL + + +The sun shone in at the kitchen window and made a golden panel on the +floor. + +“Looks like another hot day,” said Mrs. Weston, and she paused a moment +and looked out at the meadow, where the little brook sparkled in the +sun. + +“Mother, are we very poor?” said Randy, irrelevantly. + +Mrs. Weston wheeled around abruptly in her surprise, and promptly +dropped the dishcloth which she held in her hand. “There,” said she, +“look at that dishcloth; somebody’s comin’ sure as preachin’. I never +knew it to fail.” + +“Oh, I do hope somebody will, if it’s Miss Dayton, if that’s her name,” +added Randy. “But you didn’t answer what I asked you,” said the girl. +“_Are_ we, mother?” + +“Why, Randy, what’s in your mind? Lately you’ve been dreamin’ most of +the time, and askin’ queer questions between times. Are we what? Poor? +Why no, I do’no’s we be. Your father ain’t a rich man, but he’s +well-to-do. What put it in your head to ask me?” + +“Nothing,” said Randy, “only I was wondering what the reason was that +all the folks in church yesterday looked so different from Mrs. Gray’s +boarders. Was it because they were poorer or was it some other reason?” + +“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, as she took the towel from Randy’s listless +hands, and commenced energetically to finish wiping the dishes, “I guess +we’re as well fixed as any one around here; your father owes nobody +nothin’, and our farm’s one of the biggest and best in the town. I’ve +heard say that some city folks was rich, an’ I heard tell of other city +folks as wasn’t so well off as their clothes seemed to make them out; +and as to our lookin’ different, there ain’t any call to dress up any +more than what we do now. I tell you what, Randy, to be clean and neat +ought to satisfy any one.” + +To this Randy could not agree, so she wisely said nothing. In her inmost +heart she knew that, were she the possessor of an immense hat loaded +with flowers, she would not have the courage to walk into church, the +cynosure of all eyes. On the other hand, a sunbonnet never had looked so +uncouth and unbecoming as now. + +The dishes put away, the chickens fed, and a dozen other little chores +attended to, Randy was free to do as she liked; so off to the “best” +room she flew, eager to brighten it in any way which might suggest +itself. The best room was a front room, and the front door, although +seldom used, opened from it, showing a little garden in which grew boys’ +love, larkspur, balsams, and, later in the season, marigolds. + +But the front room and the front door were never used; and the little +path from the door-stone to the flower beds was overgrown with weeds, +years ago. The side door which led to the barn, the well, and the +woodpile was the proper one to use. So Randy did not open the door; it +never occurred to her to do so; but she drew up the green paper +curtains, and let in the sunlight, and, although the room was +scrupulously clean, she decided that the correct thing to do first was +to dust. + +Between the front windows stood a little table with an oil-cloth cover, +dotted with red and green figures. Over the table, and quite too high +for any one to take a peep, hung a small, square looking-glass with a +broad, wooden frame. + +Randy remembered having seen a huge asparagus plume over a mirror in the +parson’s sitting room on one gala occasion when the sewing-circle had +met there, and she had been permitted to be present with her mother. +Asparagus, then, would be quite the thing with which to decorate the +glass. The parson’s mirror had a gilt frame and a gorgeous landscape +above the glass, and Randy felt sure that the wooden frame needed the +decoration even more than the gilt one. The asparagus in place, Randy +stopped in the middle of the floor, duster in hand, to view the effect. +Her eyes wandered about the room, and this is what she saw. + +On the opposite wall was a picture entitled “The Tree of Life,” on which +every known virtue hung pendant from the branches on one side, while +every evil of which man is guilty kept the balance on the other. + +This picture always served to depress Randy. The tree was a sombre +green, and Randy espied Envy printed in large type on that side where +hung the sins, and she felt sure that a wee bit of envy had crept into +her heart on Sunday, and as she looked at the pictured tree she said, +under her breath: “Must have been vanity that made me almost hate my +sunbonnet. The parson preached a while ago on the sin of vanity.” + +Poor Randy! To think it a sin to long with all her girlish heart for +pretty things! With a sigh she turned from the picture of the tree to +the one hanging upon the side wall. This was more cheerful—an ancient +fashion plate in which insipid-looking gentlemen, in white trousers and +long, blue coats, were smiling at some waxen-faced ladies whose +beruffled skirts were voluminously extended. + +She rather admired this picture, mainly because the people in it, at +least, looked cheerful. Leaving the pictures, Randy let her eyes slowly +wander over the furnishings. As none of her neighbors or acquaintances +had carpets, the yellow painted floor seemed quite fine. The chairs were +also yellow, and as a crowning luxury, a green enamelled cloth lounge +stood in all its slippery grandeur against the wall, beside the door. + +Randy liked the lounge, but wished it possible to sit upon it without +slipping. While she was wishing that she had some pretty thing in the +shape of an ornament for the table, her eyes wandered to the window, +where, looking out into the garden, she could see the tall spikes of +pink and blue larkspur waving in the breeze. A bright idea! Why not have +some flowers upon the table? + +Away she ran to the kitchen closet, and there she inspected everything +on the shelves, so anxious was she to find something fine for her +flowers. + +“Oh, that’s the thing,” said Randy, “if mother’ll let me have it.” +Appealed to, Mrs. Weston looked doubtful. “’Tain’t a vase,” said she, +“it’s my old white and blue spoon holder, an’ I do’no how it will look +in the best room.” + +“But you’d be willing I should use it, wouldn’t you?” Randy asked +eagerly. + +“Oh, I don’t mind your usin’ it; go put your posies in it an’ see how it +looks.” + +Surprised and delighted that her mother should express the least +interest, Randy skipped out into the garden and came running back in a +few moments with a dozen long stalks of larkspur in her hands. She +filled the old spoon holder with water and crowded in the flowers, then +away she ran to the best room. + +“Oh, mother,” she called, a minute later, “do come and see the room.” +Mrs. Weston stopped in the doorway. + +“Wal’, I do declare,” she ejaculated, “I must say that does look pretty. +Why, Randy, you do have a real knack to fix it up so. Them flowers +brighten up the place wonderful, and that sparrowgrass just beats +anything.” + +“Oh, I’m so glad you like it, mother! Would you put some on the mantel +if you were me?” + +“I’d put some anywhere,” said her mother, wiping her eyes with the +corner of her apron. “I declare I’d actually forgotten how much the +blossoms cheer up the house. I used to bring them in when I was first +married, but ever sence I’ve been too busy to think of anything but +cookin’, sweepin’, sewin’, and mendin’ from Monday ’til Saturday; but, +Randy, if you’re a mind to, you may bring in a few blossoms once in a +while. It seems like the time when I used to fix up the house, and +myself too, for that matter.” + +Mrs. Weston was a reserved woman, and Randy was amazed that her mother +should show so much feeling, and delighted that her efforts at +decoration were approved. + +“I wish I had something to hang down from the mantel in some way. I +don’t know how to say it, but I know just how it ought to look.” A +moment Randy stood thinking with a queer little scowl over her eyes. +Then her face brightened, and out of the room she darted, then across +the yard to the old well around whose sides the wild morning glory +clambered. Lifting her skirt, she filled it with the long vines and +hurried back to the house. + +She filled a small stone jar with water, carried it to the front room +and stood it in the centre of the mantel, and then proceeded to fill it +with long sprays of the morning glory. When all the vines were thus +disposed of, she inspected her work. + +“There, you couldn’t have done better,” said her mother, and Randy felt +rewarded for her efforts. Then they turned to go back to the kitchen, +and there, in the doorway, stood Helen Dayton. Randy started. + +“Forgive me for startling you, and also for coming in without knocking. +I was out for a walk, and coming up the hill I thought of your +invitation. I walked toward the house and was about to knock when this +little puss offered to lead me through the house to you.” + +“I’m sure you’re welcome any time, Miss Dayton, and this girl of mine,” +laying her hand on Randy’s arm, “has been so eager to see you again I +do’no what would have become of her if you had waited long to come.” + +Randy blushed, and Helen Dayton laughed and said that she was very glad +to be so welcome. Then she chatted pleasantly with Mrs. Weston “just as +if she had always known her,” as Randy afterward said. + +While she was talking, a little book which lay upon Miss Dayton’s lap +fell to the floor and flew open, showing a page of bright little +sketches, and Randy and Prue stared at it in wonder. “My sketch book,” +said Miss Dayton. “I am not an artist, but I have a bit of talent and +have studied a little, and when I go out for a walk I jot down a part of +a birch tree, a few wild flowers, or some tall weeds beside an old wall. +Take the book and look at it if you like,” she added, as she caught the +eager look upon Randy’s face. + +Gladly Randy picked up the little book. The drawings were not wonderful, +only rather clever, but to the country girl, who had never seen a +sketch, they were truly charming. Randy looked at each little picture at +least a dozen times, always telling Prue in a whisper that she must not +put her little fingers on them. + +“However did you do them?” asked Randy. “I didn’t know that anybody ever +did such beautiful things.” + +“Thank you for liking them,” said Helen; “but you must not call them +beautiful.” + +“But,” said Randy, “that old mullein stalk looks just like a mullein, +and those birches look just ’s if you could strip the bark off.” + +Helen laughed at Randy’s enthusiasm. “Sometime, when I come,” said she, +“I will make a sketch of your old well.” + +“Our well!” said Randy, “would that look pretty in a picture?” Helen was +amused. “You shall see,” said she; “and now tell me who arranged the +flowers and vines so prettily?” + +“I did,” said Randy; “I did it to please you,” and Randy, the sketch +book still in her hand, looked up into the lovely face. + +Helen Dayton laid a gentle hand on Randy’s shoulder, saying sweetly, +“Thank you so much, but tell me why you so wished to please me?” + +“Because you are the very loveliest girl I ever saw in this world,” and +then Randy blushed and looked down to cover her confusion. + +“And because you are the princess,” chimed in Prue, who had been still +an unusually long time. + +“The princess!” echoed Helen. “Whatever do you mean, dear? I am not a +princess,” and Randy hastened to explain. She told all about the fairy +book, and how on Sunday in church little Prue had felt sure that Miss +Dayton was the princess of the fairy tales. + +“Well, of all things!” said Helen; “now I must assure you, little one, +that I am not a princess, only Helen Dayton of Boston.” + +“But you look like one,” persisted the child, looking at her with round, +admiring eyes. Mrs. Weston had slipped from the room, while the children +entertained their visitor, and as she bustled about the kitchen, doing +many things, she murmured softly to herself, “Randy’s right, the girl +_is_ lovely.” + +A pretty picture they made—the young girl and the two children—as they +sat in the best room, chatting now like old acquaintances. Helen had +taken little Prue upon her lap, where she sat looking admiringly up into +that young lady’s face, while Randy sat beside her on the floor, telling +her all her small confidences. + +“Randy’s such a homely name,” she was saying. “’Tain’t so bad as +Jerushy, but it’s homely enough.” + +“But that isn’t the whole name, is it? Isn’t it ‘Miranda’?” asked Helen. + +“Why, yes,” said Randy, “and it sounds almost fine when you say it; but, +generally, it’s just Randy. And there’s Prue. Her name is Prudence, +after Aunt Prudence.” + +“Who’s just horrid,” said Prue, so vehemently that Helen and Randy +laughed. After a pause Randy asked, abruptly, “If you belong in Boston, +how could you come here to board; Boston’s a city, my geography says so, +and this is just country.” + +“That is just why I came here,” said Helen. “The spring found me very +tired, after a long, gay winter, and I came here to be quiet, and get +rested.” + +“How funny!” said Randy. “I was wishing and wishing the other day that +it wasn’t always so quiet here, and the other night when father was +talking to Jason Meade about buying the big piece of meadow land, Mr. +Meade was saying that he was going to Boston for a spell—he’s been there +once—and he told about the streets full of people, and cars running all +day, and teams and everything; and I did wish things would fly around +here awhile.” + +Randy paused for breath, and looking at the pretty, eager face, Helen +stooped, and touching the curly head ever so lightly with her lips she +said, “Dear Randy, I’ll try to stir things up a bit, and we will see if +we cannot have some pleasant times while I am here.” + +“Oh, will you?” said Randy, eagerly. + +“I never went anywhere ’cept to a sewing-circle once.” + +“What will you do?” asked Prue. + +“Oh, you shall see,” said Helen, laughingly. “We are planning a picnic +now,” said she, “and if we really have it, I’ll invite you, and you +shall go with me.” + +“With you!” said Randy. “I’d love to, but I shouldn’t look fit,” and she +looked admiringly at Helen Dayton’s dainty outing suit, and glanced up +at the trim sailor hat perched upon her pretty head. + +“Oh, you will look every bit fine enough with a shade hat—we shall all +wear broad-brimmed hats—and a clean gingham dress,” said Helen, +cheerily. + +“But I’ve got nothing but sunbonnets,” said Randy, “’less father will +buy me one next time he takes eggs and vegetables to the village. I mean +to ask him to if that would be soon enough,” and she looked up eagerly +at Helen. + +“Oh, yes, indeed,” said Helen, “we’ve planned to have it in about two +weeks.” + +“I want to go, too,” said little Prue. + +“Of course, dear, so you shall,” said Helen, “and now I must be going, +but I’ll tell you all about the picnic the next time we meet. Do you +know where Mrs. Gray lives, Randy?” + +Randy laughed. “Of course I do,” said she. + +“Well, when father brings home your new shade hat, and of course he +will, if you wish it so much, suppose you take a walk over to Mrs. +Gray’s and make a little call upon me, and when you come bring the new +hat with you; I shouldn’t wonder if I had something with which to trim +it.” + +“Oh, I will, I will!” said Randy, eagerly, “and then you’ll tell me all +about the picnic.” + +With sheer excitement little Prue was executing a funny little jig, +which reminded Helen to inquire for the injured foot. + +“It’s all well. See!” and Prue hopped upon that one foot to assure her +that it was quite itself again. + +“I should call that foot very well indeed,” said Helen. Then together +they walked out to the kitchen where, bidding good morning to Mrs. +Weston, Helen said that she had enjoyed her call, admired Randy’s +tasteful decoration, and asked if she might borrow Randy once in a +while. + +“Why, yes, you may have Randy whenever I can spare her,” said Mrs. +Weston, “’though she seems so took up with you, and so delighted, that +when she comes home from a call on you I’m afraid she’ll about tread on +air.” + +Helen laughed, and taking Randy’s hand they walked together as far as +the road where Randy, perched upon the wall, watched her new friend out +of sight. + +Helen turned many times to wave her hand until a bend in the road hid +her from view. Then Randy walked slowly to the house, followed by Prue, +and as they walked they talked of nothing but Helen’s beauty and +sweetness and the wonderful picnic. + + + + +CHAPTER VI—THE PICNIC + + +Mr. Weston had gone to market two days after Helen Dayton’s call upon +Randy. He had laughed heartily at the description of the exact kind of +shade hat which Randy wished for, and as he drove off he continued to +laugh as Mrs. Weston called after him, “Remember, she wants a white hat; +don’t, for mercy’s sake, come home with a brown one.” + +“And, father,” shrieked Randy, “remember to get a big one and one that +isn’t too coarse.” + +“Yes, yes, land sakes! I b’lieve I’ll bring ye home a dozen to pick +from,” and the good man chuckled to himself—he had his own plan for +doing Randy’s errand. His eggs and vegetables disposed of, he turned to +start for home, when he ejaculated, “Bless me! if I didn’t most forgit +Randy’s hat.” Back into the store he went. “What have ye got for hats?” +said Mr. Weston. “My Randy’s set her mind on havin’ a fine shade hat for +the picnic, and nothin’ but a white one will do.” + +Silas Barnes reached under his counter and brought forth a dozen straw +hats, which lie spread out for Mr. Weston to select from. + +“Wal’, that beats all! Randy and her mother told me just how it ought to +look, but I don’t see any difference in ’em, do you, Barnes?” + +“Why, yes,” replied the genial storekeeper, “that one’s twice as fine as +the other, an’ it’s worth twice as much.” + +“Wal’, I guess it’s ’bout good enough for Randy, then, and I’ll take +it.” + +When her father returned that night Randy met him at the door, and with +a little cry of delight took the parcel which he handed her, and she +could not find words to express her pleasure when the fresh, white hat +lay before her on the table. + +“Dear me! Ye might have had one before, if it delights ye so,” said her +mother; “I didn’t think of it before, because most every girl here wears +a sunbonnet.” + +“Well, I’ve got it now,” said Randy, “and to-morrow I’ll go over to Miss +Dayton’s and she’ll trim it for me; she said she would.” On the +following day, true to her promise, Helen gave Randy a cordial welcome, +and trimmed the hat with some gay ribbons which, although not new, were +very pretty, and to Randy seemed nothing short of gorgeous. + +On the day of the picnic no happier heart than Randy Weston’s beat fast +with anticipation; and with Prue’s hand held tightly in her own she +started, as they had planned, for Mrs. Gray’s house to join Helen. + +“Don’t forget to take care of Prue,” called her mother. + +“I won’t forget,” answered Randy. + +Mr. Weston stepped back into the house after watching the children until +a bend in the road concealed them from view, and sat down for a moment +before going out to the field. “I tell ye what, mother,” said he, “I +mean those girls shall have a chance. I’d no idee what a difference +there was between a hat and a sunbunnit. I say, why don’t you have a new +bunnit yourself, mother? You were every bit as pretty as our Randy when +you were young, and I b’lieve you’d look a good deal the same now, with +a little fixin’. Just see the difference in Randy with a bran’ new hat! +When we was a-payin’ off the mortgage we had to scrimp; but now, I think +ye might have a few duds, once in a while.” + +He stopped, expecting a rebuff, and was surprised when his wife turned +with a sweet smile and said, “I b’lieve I will have just a few things.” + +“Ye can have what ye want,” was the hearty rejoinder, “and we’ll go to +the village next week and do some shoppin’,” and with a jolly whistle he +started for the barn. + +When they arrived at Mrs. Gray’s, the children were surprised to find +almost every man, woman, and child who had been invited to the picnic +already there, and, as they were all talking at once, it was impossible +to understand what any one person was saying. + +Very conscious of her new hat was Randy, and she longed to find Helen +that she might talk with her. She knew that any one with whom she +stopped to speak would mention her new finery, so she only nodded +pleasantly to the girls whom she passed, and walked toward the house, +hoping there to find Helen. Helen saw her and came out to meet her; but +as Randy passed the Babson girls, she heard Phœbe Small say to them: +“Look at Randy Weston! Isn’t she getting fine!” + +“Dunno how fine she is,” responded Belinda Babson; “but I don’t see as +she need walk right by us, just because she’s got a new hat.” + +Poor Randy! She had not the least idea of being vain or silly. “Why need +the girls spoil the fun of my having a new hat,” said she, and a hot +flush crept up on her cheek, but soon Helen’s merry chatter caused Randy +to forget Phœbe’s unkindness, and she was laughing and talking as gayly +as Helen herself. + +Miss Dobbs, the little soprano of the choir, hearing Randy’s laugh, +turned and smiled, an unusual thing for her to do, saying: “How are ye, +Randy? That’s a dreadful pretty hat.” + +“I like it,” said Randy, simply, although her eyes showed her delight +that some one should approve of it. “Miss Dayton trimmed it for me; +didn’t she do it lovely?” continued Randy, anxious that her new friend +should have all the glory which belonged to her for her millinery skill. + +“Umph!” ejaculated Miss Dobbs, “they do say you’re pretty int’mit with +Miss Dayton, considering she’s from the city.” Randy moved away, pleased +with the compliment for her hat, but hurt by the last remark. +“‘Considering she’s from the city,’” thought Randy. “Anybody’d think I +asked her to be pleasant to me. Why, I wouldn’t have dared to. She +wanted to be nice, and I was glad enough to let her,” and she brushed +away a tear and forced back a sob which rose in her throat. + +Just then something happened to cheer Randy and give her a wee bit of +triumph. + +Phœbe Small moved toward Randy and fastening her small eyes +disapprovingly upon the offending hat, she was about to speak, when, +without noticing Phœbe at all, Jotham Potts walked awkwardly up to +Randy, and, standing upon one foot, then shifting to the other, he said: +“Morning, Randy! Be you going to walk to the picnic or ride? Because,” +he continued, “I told father I’d like to have you ride with us, seein’s +we have a spare seat, and he said he’d be pleased to have your company. +Will ye come, Randy? I do wish ye would.” + +“I’d like to, and thank you,” answered Randy, sweetly, with a blush and +a glance at Phœbe Small, who pretended not to have heard, “but I +promised to go in Mr. Gray’s team with Miss Dayton, so I’ll have to.” + +“I wish ye was goin’ with us, but as ye can’t, I’ll see ye at the +picnic,” said Jotham, and he turned to get into his father’s wagon; +then, stepping back to where Randy was standing, he blushed, and from +his pocket produced a little package. + +“Here, Randy,” he said, “I brought this a purpose for you to enjoy +durin’ the ride, so I guess I’ll give it to ye now.” + +“Oh, thank you,” said Randy, “how good you are,” and that so completely +overcame Jotham that he retired in confusion. By this time the party was +about ready to start. The choir had decided to go in the first wagon and +enliven the way by singing, and were still discussing as to a selection +from their scant repertoire. + +“Ye needn’t ask me to join ye,” said Silas Barnes, “and sing +‘Chany,’”—he meant China—“for I don’t think that’s gay enough for a +picnic.” + +Miss Hobson suggested that they might please Mr. Barnes by singing +“Yankee Doodle.” This was meant to suggest that Silas Barnes was too +frivolous, but he did not, apparently, feel injured, as he laughingly +answered that he would “rather be patriotic than mournful, and he reely +guessed they’d better settle upon ‘Yankee Doodle,’ as Miss Hobson +suggested.” + +On one end of the door-stone old Mrs. Perkins had just convinced her +neighbor, Mrs. Johnson, that it was just the right time of the year to +gather ‘pennyroyal’ and mouse-ear, and so have them a-drying, and Mrs. +Buffum had gathered the six little Buffums under her wing by uttering +this awful threat:— + +“Johnny! Johnny Buffum! do you and Hitty want to go to the picnic? +Katie! do you and Jack and Sophy and Ann want to stay at home? Well, +then, come here, or the first thing you’ll know the wagons’ll go without +ye!” + +From all directions the six young Buffums rushed and crowded closely +around their mother. Stay at home from their first picnic? Never! + +At last every one had arrived, and they lost no time in clambering into +the waiting wagons; then away they jogged toward the grove. + +Farmer Gray had taken his wife and Helen Dayton, Randy and little Prue +in one wagon, and had told his other boarders that they were welcome to +fill his two remaining wagons, allotting places as they chose. + +The wagon with the choir had started first, and Randy and Helen could +still faintly hear the stirring strains of “Yankee Doodle.” Randy sat +with sparkling eyes, enjoying the ride as she had never enjoyed one +before. Had she not a fine new hat? Was she not beside the beautiful +Miss Dayton? and had not Jotham, to the envy of the other girls, given +her a package purchased expressly for her? + +“What you got in your bundle what Jotham gave you, Randy?” asked Prue. +“Will you let me see?” + +“Yes, do let us see,” said Helen Dayton; “I know it must be something +nice.” + +So Randy untied the package and found a lot of huge pink and white +peppermints, which Prue at once commenced to help her eat. Helen +pronounced them to be very nice, but as she never liked peppermints, +politely excused herself from eating them by saying that she must save +her appetite for the spread at the picnic. + +Along the dusty road they jogged, Randy never minding the heat, Helen +feeling it intensely, even with the protection of her dainty ruffled +parasol. Sometimes they rode under overhanging boughs which made long, +cool shadows across the road, then over a sunny, dusty stretch with only +a fringe of daisies by the roadside and a chain of hazy blue hills in +the distance. + +[Illustration: On the Way to the Picnic] + +The occupants of one wagon would chat merrily with those in the wagon +behind them; and so, with sunny and shady roads, with laughter and song, +they at last reached the grove. + +The horses were unharnessed and tethered with a rope long enough to +permit them to graze. The baskets of lunch were all placed in one large +wagon which stood in the shade of a huge tree. Then intimate friends and +neighbors formed little groups and sat under the trees and chatted +together, delighted to have this little outing. The children played +hide-and-seek behind the tree trunks, and those farmers who had left +their work to enjoy the holiday talked over their crops, their cattle, +and the price of produce when disposed of at the village store. + +The Babson girls were each trying in an awkward fashion to win favor in +the eyes of Reuben Jenks, who Phœbe Small declared “had a hull basketful +of maple sugar stored away under the seat of his father’s wagon.” + +When Reuben had spoken of the picnic his mother, who was, to express it +mildly, a frugal woman, had said that she, for one, didn’t approve of +picnics. “Folks eat four times as much at a picnic as they do at home, +and ain’t no better satisfied,” she declared; but after much urging she +consented to go, saying: “A lot of maple sugar’ll be all I’ll take. +Sweets take away folks’ appetites, and folks that eat my maple sugar +won’t want much else.” + +But try as they would, neither Belinda’s nor Jemima’s blandishments +brought forward any of the desired sugar. Now Reuben liked the girls +well enough, and his boyish vanity was pleased by their evident liking +for his society. He was a generous little fellow and would gladly have +treated his friends, but his mother’s eyes were upon him, and he said +afterward, he “just didn’t dare.” + +Jotham Potts, hearing Helen say that she liked water cresses, gallantly +offered to go and find some, assuring her that he knew just where they +grew. + +Helen, Randy, and Prue sat under a large tree, and Helen promised, since +Randy was so charmed with fairy tales, to tell some which she knew they +had never heard. She told them tales from Grimm’s wonderful book, +pleasantly answering Prue’s funny questions regarding them. When she +related the story of the “Gold Children,” little Prue’s eyes dilated +with wonder. + +“It’s just beautiful,” said Randy. + +“If they were clear, solid gold how could they move or stir?” asked +Prue. + +Helen laughed, and patted the little girl’s cheek as she said: “Dear +little girl, you mustn’t ask questions which have no answers. Remember +the fairy tales are not true, only amusing.” + +Having told story after story, Helen became a bit weary, and she +proposed that the children should gather a few flowers, saying that she +would twine them into a lovely wreath for Prue’s curly head. + +Off went the children to search for the finest blossoms to heap in +Helen’s lap. Soon little Prue hastened back with three large daisies and +a buttercup, asking if they were quite enough to make a wreath. “No, +indeed,” said Helen, “I must have ever so many more.” + +Away ran Prue, shouting to the children, “Miss Dayton says it takes a +nawful lot more.” Soon other children came running to Helen with little +hands full of buttercups and daisies, until she cried, “Enough, more +than enough!” and commenced the weaving of the wreath. + +The children watched her dainty fingers, as with airy grace they +fashioned it, and when she twined the ends of the garland together, and +placed the finished wreath upon Prue’s head, their delight knew no +bounds. + +“Oh, Miss Dayton, you can do anything, can’t you?” said Belinda Babson. + +“Oh, no, indeed!” said Helen, “there are many, many things which I +cannot do.” + +Then they spread the table-cloth upon the grass, and “put the picnic on +it,” as Prue said. Prue’s idea of a picnic was a lunch out of doors, and +until the luncheon made its appearance, she felt that the picnic had not +even commenced. Then suddenly clapping her chubby hands, and dancing in +a manner which threatened to dislodge her flower crown, she said, “May I +wear this wreath while I eat my lunch?” + +“Oh, do,” said Helen, “it is really very becoming.” + +Every one seemed anxious that Helen should sit as guest of honor at the +spread, so, with children on either side, she took her place, and deftly +put each one present at ease with her bright, pleasant conversation; now +saying a kind word to old Mrs. Dewing, that she might not feel +neglected, or laughing lightly at Farmer Morse’s clumsy wit, noticing +Randy’s gentle manner with her little sister, and at the same time, with +ready tact, seeming unmindful of the practised hand with which Jack +Marden handled his pie with his knife. + +So with laughter and gay chatter the lunch was eaten and cleared away, +and some one proposed some games. + +“Let’s play ‘On the green carpet,’” said Phœbe Small, and a chorus of +voices echoed: “Oh, yes! Let’s play that first;” so, joining hands, they +sang the old tune as they danced about Helen, whom they insisted should +first stand in the centre. + + “And choose the one + That you love best,” + +sang the children. + +“I choose Randy,” said Helen, much to Randy’s delight. + + “Give her a kiss and send her away, + And tell her you’ll call another day,” + +sang the gay little troop, and Helen stooped, and taking Randy’s sweet +face between her hands she kissed her and slipped from the ring. Around +and about Randy they circled, and then she must choose. She longed to +choose Helen, and turned toward her, but Helen said, “We must not keep +choosing each other, Randy, because it is more fun to change about,” so +Randy turned with a puzzled face, wondering whom to choose. Seeing the +little sister’s eager face, she decided at once. “I choose you, pussy,” +said she. + +Into the ring sprang Prue. “Oh, Randy,” said the child, “you did love me +best, didn’t you?” + +“Of course,” said Randy; “but now we know, Prue, that you love me best, +you choose the one you love next best, because that’s the way to play +it;” so, wondering much whom the child would favor, Randy left her in +the circle. But it did not take dear little Prue a great while to +decide. + +“Next to Randy, I guess I like you, Jotham, so I choose you,” said the +child. Every one laughed except Jotham, who, seeing the little girl’s +lip quiver, said awkwardly, yet very kindly, “You’re a nice little girl, +Prue, and I’m real proud to have you choose me;” at which Prue’s spirits +rose, and, turning with one little hand in Jotham’s, she said: “You +needn’t have laughed if I did choose a big boy. He’s very nice, and +’most always gives Randy candy, and she gives some to me.” + +This so amused every one that they commenced to pet Prue, and, much to +Jotham’s delight, the game ended, for he felt that he could have chosen +none but Randy as his favorite among his friends, and he realized that +this would have been a trying ordeal for his diffidence. + +Many games they played that sunny afternoon, and so fast flew the hours +that every one was surprised when Deacon Turnbull pulled out his great, +old-fashioned “timepiece” and declared that it “wanted a quarter to six, +and that they ought to be hitchin’ up and startin’ toward home.” + +So the baskets and pails were packed into the wagons, the horses +harnessed, and the merry, tired party started homeward. + +Some of the picnickers were jolly, singing as they went along, others +were too tired to sing; but all were unanimous in voting the picnic a +success, many declaring that it was just wonderful how Miss Dayton +planned it, and that they didn’t know when they’d had such a good time. +The ride with Helen was delightful to the two children, Randy looking +admiringly at Helen all the way and talking little. She was really too +happy for conversation. + +Not so with little Prue. She sat between Helen and Randy, and all the +way home her chatter was interspersed with snatches of the songs which +had been a part of their games. + + “‘On the green carpet here we stand, + Take your true love by the hand, + Give her a kiss and send her away, + And tell her—’ + +“That’s just the best picnic I ever saw, wasn’t it, Randy?” + +Before Randy could answer, out rang the childish treble again:— + + “‘Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high, + Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high, + Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high, + Waiting for a pretty girl to—’ + +“Oh, Miss Dayton, don’t you think Jotham’s ’most as nice as a prince? I +do,” said Prue, without waiting for an answer, although she looked up in +Miss Dayton’s face expectantly. + +Helen took Prue’s little dimpled hand in her own as she said: “All +princes are not good, although many of them are very, very good indeed. +Jotham has a good face, and I am sure when I really know him I shall +like him very much. If he grows to be a good, brave, true man, that is +worth much more than being a prince.” + +“Yes’m,” said Prue, not quite catching Helen’s meaning, yet vaguely +understanding that Jotham was fully appreciated. Prue’s curly head +swayed a little, like a tired flower; and Helen, slipping her arm around +her, drew her toward her, and soon the little girl’s head lay against +her new friend. + +Still she sang, although drowsily:— + + “‘Oh, what a beautiful choice you’ve made, + Don’t you wish you’d longer stayed?’” + +The last line was drawled out so slowly that Randy said, “Oh, wake up, +Prue, you’re asleep.” + +“I guess I ain’t sleepy, but my eyes feel ’s if—” she was now really +asleep just as they reached Farmer Gray’s door. + +Mr. Weston was waiting in the dooryard with his own team to take the +children home, and, after an exchange of remarks with Mr. Gray regarding +the weather and bluff, but hearty thanks to Miss Dayton for the +children’s day of pleasure, he took little Prue in his arms, and, +placing her in Randy’s lap, gathered up the reins, and with a resounding +“g’lang there” the old mare ambled toward home. + +Mrs. Weston was at the door when they arrived. “Well, Randy,” said she, +smiling. + +“Oh, mother!” cried Randy, “it was just splendid, and we had such good +times all day.” + +“What! Prue asleep?” + +“No,” said little Prue, “I ain’t asleep, but my eyes feel funny, and we +had gingerbread and peppermints, and cold sausage and lemonade, and ‘On +the—green—carpet,’ and I chose Jotham, and I had a wreath and some maple +sugar, and it was all made of daisies and butter—cups—and—and,” but here +she lost the thread of her story, and was carried upstairs and put in +her bed. + + + + +CHAPTER VII—RANDY OUTWITS JASON MEADE + + +The day after the picnic was a busy one for Mrs. Weston, and Randy, +eager to be helpful, was really a fine assistant. She washed all the +dishes, allowing little Prue to wipe the spoons, knives, and forks +because they would not break if dropped, then she thoroughly cleansed +the milk cans and put them just outside the door to dry in the bright +sunlight. + +“Now, mother, what do you suppose I’m going to do next?” said Randy. + +“I don’t know,” said her mother, “but ye have worked this morning like +all possessed.” + +“Well,” said Randy, “I’m just going to bring in towels and aprons from +the line and sprinkle and iron them, so’s you can sit down awhile after +dinner.” + +Mrs. Weston looked at the bright, flushed face a moment, then said: “I +do declare, Randy, you’re a real help. There ain’t a better daughter in +this town, if I do say it.” + +“Oh, mother,” said Randy, “I’d ’most work my fingers off just to hear +you say that. I help you because I love you, though somehow I never ’til +now could say it.” + +Mrs. Weston wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron, then, turning to +Randy, she kissed her, saying: “Why, Randy, it does me good to hear you +say it, and, child, ye must know I’m all bound up in you and Prue. We +busy folks sometimes forget to show how much we really feel.” + +“I mean,” said Randy, “to make you and father happy, always; sometimes I +forget to help, but always I mean to.” + +“I know ye do,” said her mother. + +Randy moved about the kitchen with a subtle sense of exhilaration. Her +mother had always been kind and good, but to have her speak of her +affection and say a word of approval for her helpfulness, what more +could be needed to make a young girl happy? thought Randy. + +She sang little snatches of melody while she cleared the dinner table, +and grasped the first leisure moment to steal out under the apple tree, +thence toward the brook to the old stone wall. A large stone had toppled +from the wall, and Randy sat down upon it to rest. She had intended to +make a little call upon Miss Dayton, to talk over the events of the +picnic, and to hear what her new friend had to tell her; for Helen had +hinted that she had another good time planned, and she promised to tell +Randy all about it when next they met. + +Tall alders grew luxuriantly almost the entire length of the wall, which +served as a fence for one side of the pasture; and Randy, a bit tired +with the forenoon’s work, easily fell into one of her day-dreams, when +she was aroused by hearing voices behind the alders. There seemed to be +two voices, and Randy heard them mention her father’s name. She was an +honest girl who, under ordinary circumstances, would have scorned to +listen; but something in the tone of the speaker’s voice seemed +distinctly unfriendly when he spoke of her father, and Randy seemed, +against her will, riveted to the spot and obliged to listen. She must +have taken her place on the big stone when the conversation was well +under way, but the sound of her own footsteps, while unheard by the +earnest talkers, had prevented her from hearing their voices. She was +invisible to them as they were to her, separated as they were by the +alders. + +“Now, I’ve tried and tried ’til I’m tired er tryin’ to sell Mr. Weston +that piece er medder land er mine, ’n’ it would a been sold long ago if +I hadn’t been bound to swap land instead er taking cash.” + +“Yes, but I don’t see the great pint er not takin’ cash ef he’s fool +enough to pay it,” said the second voice. + +[Illustration: “Nearer to the Wall she crept”] + +“I don’t s’pose ye do, ’til I tell ye. Ye haven’t been here fer years, +’n’ only come yisterday, an’ ef you was anybody under the sun but my own +brother, I wouldn’t tell ye now.” + +How Randy’s heart beat! Surely, it was right to listen now. If any one +meant to do her father harm, she must know it and warn him. Nearer to +the wall she crept, with a stealth which she was unaware she possessed, +and she tried to hush her breathing which came quick and hard. + +“Just listen to this, Jim. My wife’s just got back from a visit to her +folks, I forgit the name of the town, ’though it’s on my tongue’s end +this minute, and while she was there she heard say that they’re goin’ to +run a railroad through this part of the town, next summer, jest a sort +er branch road from the one that goes through the centre, and my wife +never let on that she was much interested; but she asked ’nough +questions, kinder keerful like, and she found that ef they _do_ build +the road, and she says the folks down that way say they do really mean +to, it’ll be straight across that little bit er rocky field, back er +Weston’s barn. Now, I argy that Weston’s got money _’nough_, and I mean +ter keep at him ’til he agrees ter swap that ’ere little pesky, rocky +field er his’n fer my piece er medder land. The more I urge him the less +he seems ter want ter swap, an’ I even offered to throw in a good young +steer to boot, an’ all the satisfaction I could git out er him was, +‘Wal’, I dunno what makes yer so anxious fer that little piece er land +er mine.’ + +“He don’t know nothin’ ’bout the railroad yet, but there’s no knowin’ +how soon he will. My wife’s naggin’ me to make him swap, but I’d like to +see her try to hurry Weston when he don’t intend to hurry; but I tell ye +now, ef that ’ere road _does_ run through his field, I mean ter own it +_fust_, an’ I’m goin’ up ter night ter talk him inter it.” + +Randy now realized that the speaker’s voice was no other than Jason +Meade’s. She was but fifteen, but she knew that if her father yielded to +his neighbor’s urging, it would in some way mean loss to him. All +thought of her call upon Helen vanished, and in its place lay a great +fear that she might be seen before she could get away from her hiding +place and rush home. + +She was a bit cramped with her crouching pose behind the wall. Slowly +she arose to her feet, glided along upon the grass, lest her footsteps +should be heard, and, once in the grove, she sprang across the brook, +dashed through the fields, up the path, and into the kitchen door, where +she dropped upon a chair and tried to speak. + +“Why, Randy Weston! whatever ails ye? Ye look ’s if ye’d seen a ghost. +Why, father,” as the girl did not speak, “jest come look at Randy. She’s +been runnin’ ’til she’s clean tuckered out, ’n’ can’t seem to speak.” + +Mr. Weston came hastening in from the well with a pail of water, which +he set down when he saw Randy. + +“Why, Randy, child, what—” + +“Oh, father,—the little rocky field behind the barn,—don’t sell it, +don’t swap it; the railroad’s going through it; and oh, father, that’s +why Jason Meade wants to make you swap it. It’s going to be worth lots +and lots of money; he can’t _make_ you swap it, can he, father?” and in +her anxiety she sprang up and put her hands upon her father’s shoulders. + +“There, there, Randy, you’ve done your father a good turn this time, +sure enough, ef it’s true. Sit down and tell me where ye heard all +this.” + +So Randy, having regained her breath, told her anxious listeners the +tale, beginning with her intended call upon Miss Dayton; how she +strolled through the grove and across the brook, and sat down to rest +upon the big stone by the wall, with the great alders behind her; how +she had, at first sound of the voices, tried not to listen, and, on +hearing an unfriendly voice mention her father’s name, she had, although +afraid of detection, crept close to the wall, to hear if the men really +meant to harm him. + +Then she had told all that she had heard, word for word, finishing with, +“And, father, he _can’t_ make you swap, can he? he seemed so +determined.” + +Then Mr. Weston did a very unusual thing. Putting his arm around Randy, +he drew her down upon his knee, where she had not sat since she was a +little girl like Prue, and as he looked at her, with just a suspicion of +moisture in his kind, blue eyes, he said, “Mother, we’ve got a girl to +be proud of.” + +“And to be thankful for,” said Mrs. Weston. + +“Amen!” said Randy’s father, and he added, “Always be as brave and quick +to do what’s right, Randy, as you have been to-day, even forgetting your +own pleasure, and I will trust you anywhere.” + +Here little Prue, who had been awed into silence by the earnestness of +the conversation, found her tongue once more, and piped in with, “Why, +pa, my big sister Randy’s been good again. How can she be always good?” + +They all laughed, and Randy, catching little Prue and giving her a tight +hug, said: “I know who’s got the best little sister in all the world. I +have, just as sure as your name is Prudence.” + +“I like you to love me lots, Randy dear, but don’t you call me anything +but Prue. ‘Prudence’ makes me think of Aunt Prudence, and she looked all +so,” and here Prue drew down her wee mouth, and puckered up her fair +little forehead and brows into such a scowling imitation of Aunt +Prudence, that even her father, who did not at all approve, could not +help smiling at the dimpled copy of that lady’s unpleasant face. + +Soon Mrs. Weston had tea ready, and the family had but just finished the +evening meal when a loud tap at the door announced some neighbor’s +arrival. Mr. Weston looked at his wife, with a twinkle in his eye, as he +arose to answer the knock. + +“Well, well, Jason, come in, come in!” Thus Mr. Weston welcomed his +crafty neighbor. + +“How are ye, Square Weston? I thought I’d jist drop in an’ see if you’d +made up yer mind about that piece er land er mine.” + +“Well, yes, I hev,” said Mr. Weston, looking his neighbor squarely in +the face; “I told ye, a month ago, I’d give ye two hundred dollars in +cash fer that big medder of yourn.” + +“I know it, I know you did; but the thing is, I’ve took a reel fancy to +that little rocky pasture er yourn, and I feel ’s if I’d lots rather +have it, little as it is, than the cash, ’f you’ll believe me.” + +Jason Meade sat back in his chair with the bland air of a man who had +done a good deed in praising his neighbor’s property. + +Mrs. Weston came out of the closet where she had been placing the dishes +and stood by her husband’s chair, anxiously awaiting his answer. She +knew his generous nature, but she believed that this time he would be +firm. + +Randy, who after tea had taken the fairy book to the table to read, now +leaned forward with parted lips. + +Slowly Mr. Weston turned toward his neighbor, and a faint smile played +about his lips as he said, “I’ll tell ye, Jason, I jist thought that +while it ain’t so very val’able now, I’ve ’bout decided to keep it, for +when the railroad comes clean through it, I’m thinkin’ I’ll be reel +pleased to think it’s my property.” + +Jason Meade’s mouth opened to its widest extent, and to say that he was +amazed, astonished, or surprised, would be expressing it very mildly +indeed. He cleared his throat and blinked once or twice, then, as no +suitable remark seemed to suggest itself he arose, and pushing back his +chair, he said “he’d reely have to go as he’d got an arrant to do at +Mrs. Gray’s.” He sheepishly made his way toward the door, and mumbling +something about the weather, he dejectedly stalked out with the air of a +disappointed man. + +“Why, father,” said Randy, “he didn’t even ask you how you knew about +the railroad.” + +Mr. Weston laughed as he said: “I guess he didn’t care how I knew. That +I knew at all was what worried him.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII—TABLEAUX + + +One morning Miss Dayton sent a little hastily written note to Mrs. +Weston, saying that she was planning another entertainment which she +believed would be as enjoyable as the picnic had been, and asking if +Randy might come over and help her make some preparations for the event. + +Mrs. Weston read the note, then re-read it to Randy. + +“Oh, may I go, could you spare me?” said Randy, eagerly. + +“Why, yes indeed,” said her mother; “there is less than usual to do +to-day, and nothing at all after dinner. Fly ’round and get cleared up, +and you can put on your clean red and white gingham and your new hat and +go over early.” + +“Fly ’round!” Randy did fly, and by two o’clock she was off down the +road, walking as fast as her feet and her enthusiasm would take her. + +What could Miss Dayton be planning, thought Randy, as she hastened +toward the farm-house where Helen was staying. + +Helen saw her coming and opened the door, smiling at Randy’s questioning +face, which expressed a world of interest in Helen’s scheme, whatever it +might be. + +“Come right in, take off your hat, and sit down and I will tell you all +about my plan for an evening’s pleasure. You know I promised when I +first met you that I would try to make this summer just a bit gay during +my stay here. Now I believe we shall all enjoy an evening of tableaux,” +but here Helen was obliged to pause and explain just what tableaux were, +“and,” she continued, “I think that any one of the large girls who +attended the picnic, and a few of the little ones, will make a very nice +set of pictures.” + +“Oh, I should think it would be lovely, but,” Randy added doubtfully, +“what could we wear that would be nice enough for pictures or tab—” + +“Tableaux,” said Helen. + +“Yes, tableaux,” said Randy. + +“I will agree to furnish the costumes,” said Miss Dayton; “they will not +have to be very fine to look extremely pretty in the frame. Mr. Gray has +made me a fine frame which you and I will cover with evergreen. Then +Mrs. Gray has two bracket lamps which we will fasten to the back of the +frame to light up the pictures, and I have a lot of odds and ends of +pretty things in my trunks which will be sufficiently bright and gay for +costumes. Now let us go at once to the barn and decorate the frame.” + +Mr. Gray’s man, Roger, had just brought in an immense load of evergreen. +Randy was all eagerness to help, and together they worked all the +afternoon. + +When she left for home the frame was thickly covered. There was +evergreen and asparagus over the pictures in the “best room” where they +were to exhibit to the townspeople their tableaux, and Randy had seen +her costume which Helen had designed. + +Miss Dayton was an ardent admirer of Greuze, and she possessed many +photographic reproductions of his paintings. She also owned a number of +photographs of Sir Joshua Reynold’s portraits of beautiful women and +children, and knowing the bareness of the walls in the average New +England farm-house, she had brought these pictures with her to decorate +her room during her stay. She intended to copy these beautiful pictures +in the list of tableaux which she arranged. + +Randy was spellbound when she saw the photographs. “Oh, Miss Dayton,” +cried she, “do you really think any of us will do?” + +“Why, yes indeed,” laughed Helen, “I have you all selected now. You are +to be the girl with the broken pitcher in the painting by Greuze. Would +you like to see your costume?” + +“I guess I should like to,” answered Randy, excitedly clapping her +hands; so Helen showed her a waist with large, loose sleeves, a kerchief +or scarf, and a wide ribbon “to tie up her bonny brown hair.” + +Randy went home in a fever of excitement. Think of a girl of fifteen who +had never witnessed an entertainment of any kind, and you will +understand with what delight she looked forward to an evening of +tableaux in which she would take part. + +Miss Dayton called upon those girls who she thought would like to pose +for the tableaux, and every one was invited to be present. + +The girls, both large and small, were delighted, and their elders were +quite as pleased with the promise of an evening’s enjoyment, and every +invitation was enthusiastically accepted. Mrs. Gray’s attic proved a +perfect treasure room. She generously offered the contents of all the +old trunks to Helen, saying, “If you see anything which you can make use +of, I shall be truly glad.” Mrs. Gray had been a city girl, and had +spent the greater part of her married life there, and she brought to the +farm-house many trunks containing faded finery, which, while far too +good to be thrown away, were of but little use in that small country +town. Helen chose those things which she could best utilize and carried +them down to the front room, where she deposited them behind an +improvised screen. + +Randy thought the evening would never come; so did little Prue, for she, +too, was to be one of the “tab things,” as she called them. She could +not remember the word “tableaux.” + +But the evening did arrive, and with it all the girls whom Helen had +drilled for the proper posing, all of the boys who were curious to see +the girls “fixed up for pictures,” as Reuben Jenks had expressed it, and +all of the farmers and their wives, who were nearly as excited as the +young people. + +Mrs. Gray and Helen received the friends and neighbors as they arrived, +showing them the photographs on the walls and telling them that the +girls, correctly dressed, would look very much like pictures when seen +in the frame. + +The frame was in place with a dark background behind it, and stretching +from either side of the frame to the side walls of the room were some +old brocatelle curtains which Helen had found in Mrs. Gray’s attic. +These curtained spaces served as dressing rooms. + +Besides the tableaux Helen had planned quite a little programme, and +although much drilling had been necessary, each performer was perfect in +her part. + +Jotham Potts had, after much urging, agreed to read the programme, and +Helen had promised to contribute a song, and a piano solo which should +be the opening number. + +The hum of conversation rose loud and cheery, and so lively did it +become that it was impossible to hear a completed sentence. + +“They say your Phœbe’s goin’ to be a dreadful pretty picture to-night.” + +“What’s she goin’ to—” + +“Wal’, I dunno, seems Miss Dayton thinks our Jotham has a good voice, so +she asked him to read the—I forgit what you call it, but anyhow I +guess—” + +“Yes, Miss Dayton says my hair is auburn and not red, and she says—” + +“Why, ef here isn’t Mis’ Weston’s little Prue!” + +“Yes’m, I’m going to be one of the tab things, and sing a little tune +what Miss Dayton learned—no, taught me,” said the little girl, very +proud to think that she had remembered the correction. + +“Well, I think she’s real nice to come up here and plan such good +times,” but here Helen tapped upon the piano, and the conversation +ceased so abruptly that one might think that the audience held its +breath. + +The girls rushed behind the curtains on either side of the frame, and +Jotham Potts, clearing his throat, read the first number for the +evening. + +Helen had drilled him in pronouncing those names which he found +difficult, and very clearly he read,— + +“Our first number will be a piano solo by Miss Dayton, entitled, ‘Marche +Militaire.’” + +Mr. Potts nudged his wife, saying, in a loud whisper, “Our Jotham did +that just like a city feller, didn’t he?” His wife ejaculated “Sh—,” but +she smiled and nodded, for she was of the same opinion. + +Helen in her white muslin looked very beautiful, as she took her seat at +the piano. That piano was the only one in town, and the only one that +many of the audience had ever heard. Helen was a good musician, and the +piece, grand in itself, rang out brilliantly, to the great delight of +every one present, and many were the words of praise which reached her +ears when she arose. One voice, bolder than the others, said, “That’s +what I call great; just one more piece, Miss Dayton, ef it ain’t asking +too much.” + +This was an honest if unceremonious encore, so Helen seated herself once +more, and for those simple country people played a brilliant polacca. + +“Wal’, ’twas all I could do to keep from dancin’, I dew declare,” said +old Deacon Turnbull, which made every one laugh, as the deacon was a +very dignified old man. + +Helen rose and saying, “Now, Jotham,” she stepped behind the curtains. +“Our next number,” announced Jotham, “will be a tableau as nearly as +possible like the painting entitled ‘The Age of Innocence.’” + +“That’s it over there,” said Mrs. Buffum to her husband, pointing at the +photograph on the wall, and every one looked that way. When the curtain +was drawn aside, there was chubby little Hitty Buffum, her hands clasped +upon her breast, a wee bit of a smile on her parted lips—a very good +counterpart of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s picture. + +“Oh! oh my! She looks just like it. Isn’t she cunnin’?” and similar +remarks greeted the little girl in the first tableau. She had done her +very best for Miss Dayton. Then the curtain swung across the frame and +Jotham announced, “The next number will be a song by little Miss +Weston.” + +“I didn’t know as the Weston children could sing, did you?” queried one +neighbor, but there was no time for an answer, for little Prue had taken +her place on the improvised platform, and Helen was playing a little +prelude. + +Mrs. Weston laid her hand upon her husband’s arm. Would Prue, her little +Prue, get through the song without faltering? She need not have feared. +Out rang the childish treble in the song which Miss Dayton had taught +her. How fresh and clear the little voice sounded! + + “Sometimes I am a daisy bloom, + I make believe ’tis true, + I play that all I ever eat + Is early morning dew. + + “Sometimes I am a butterfly,— + Just see my gauzy wings! + Sometimes I play I am a bird, + Who only sits and sings. + + “But always I am mama’s girl, + And papa’s girlie, too, + And next to them I love the best, + I love each one of you.” + +Putting up her dimpled hands she daintily kissed her finger tips, made a +very cunning little bow, and tripped back to Miss Dayton, saying, “Did I +do it nice?” + +“Just splendid, little Prue,” said Jotham. + +“Couldn’t have been better,” said old Mrs. Green. + +Then Prue crept up on her father’s lap to see “all the other tabs,” she +said. + +“The ‘Chapeau Blanc,’ which Miss Dayton says means the White Hat,” +announced Jotham. This time the curtain swept aside to disclose Phœbe +Small’s little face beneath a hat with white gauzy ruffles upon the +brim, and a feather held in place by a knot of blue ribbon. A pearly +kerchief about the shoulders was most becoming to Phœbe, whose usually +expressionless face looked almost piquant under the saucy white hat and +feather. + +“Don’t she look like a photograph?” whispered Mrs. Small, “and a good +deal nicer, if I do say it as shouldn’t,” and Mrs. Small looked around +with a sniff at those present who possibly thought their daughters +prettier. + +Now, Phœbe’s principal defects were an abundance of freckles, and an +absence of character in her small face; but the costume was becoming, +and the freckles not apparent in the light in which she was posed; so +her heart was delighted with words of commendation, and she hoped that +Jotham Potts had seen her tableau. + +As a matter of fact, Jotham had not seen her; for, having announced that +number, he had sat down and waited for Miss Dayton to appear. The next +number on the programme was his, and now Helen stepped from behind the +curtain to announce it. + +“We will now listen to a solo by Jotham Potts.” + +“Oh! oo! oo! Does your Jotham sing?” asked Mrs. Brimblecom of Mrs. +Potts. + +“Why, no; leastways I never heard him,” said Jotham’s mother, with a +twinkle in her eyes, for did she not know of Jotham’s evenings spent in +practising this very solo with Miss Dayton’s accompaniment? + +Randy had said one day to Helen, “You’d ought to hear Jotham Potts +whistle. He does it just splendid. It sounds just like the brook +rippling.” + +When Helen made her plans for the entertainment, she invited him to give +a whistling solo. + +“Oh, I’d do anything to ’blige you, Miss Dayton, but who’d want to hear +me whistle?” said Jotham. + +Then Helen told the boy how many people gave whistling solos in the +city, with a piano accompaniment, and Jotham consented to “jest try it” +with the piano. + +After announcing the number, Helen seated herself, and played a pretty +little prelude, and then Jotham commenced to whistle a simple piece +which Helen played, called “The Alpine Echo,” in which there was an +imitation of an Alpine horn, followed by echoing notes an octave higher. + +Jotham was, indeed, a charming whistler, and as his courage rose, his +notes sounded true and flutelike, making the song and echoes, the piano +ever aiding him, until with a final thrill and flourish he finished his +solo, and, blushing and bowing, retired. + +The little assembly was much excited and there were repeated calls for +one more whistling solo, and cries of “fine,” and “that beats all,” and +“whistle just once more, Jotham.” So Helen resumed her seat at the +piano, and this time Jotham whistled a medley in which were heard “The +Girl I Left Behind Me,” “Yankee Doodle,” and “The Star-Spangled Banner.” + +[Illustration: “There stood Randy as the Demure little Maid”] + +“Hooray for Jotham and Miss Dayton, I say!” shouted Reuben Jenks, and +everybody cheered. + +Jotham was very happy over his musical success, and with a beaming face +he announced, “Our next tableau is a copy of the large photograph on the +right wall called ‘The Broken Pitcher,’ by Greuze.” + +This time the curtain drew aside and there stood Randy, sweet Randy, as +the demure little maid with the broken pitcher hanging to her wrist, her +beautiful hair loosely bound, and her large gray eyes looking out at one +for all the world like the Greuze model. + +“Isn’t she lovely, mother?” said Jotham, who had stolen out in front of +the frame in order to make sure of seeing this tableau. + +“Well, I must say, she is,” said Mrs. Potts. “She’s always a pretty +girl, but I do declare to-night she’s nothin’ short of handsome.” + +“So I say,” said Jotham, and even Randy’s parents were surprised at her +beauty. The tableau was recalled, and this time Randy blushed most +becomingly because of the encore. + +“Oh, do see my Randy!” called little Prue, who had been nodding when the +tableau was first shown, and awoke with a start to see her dear Randy +looking out from the frame. + +“The next number will be a solo by Katie Buffum.” Immediately wee Katie +was in position. She was not diffident in the least, and clasping her +chubby hands she at once piped up with cheery voice:— + + “Once there was a little mouse + No bigger than my fumb; + He crept into my pocket, + Where he hunted for a crumb. + + “I put my finger in there, + Just to see what there was in it; + But the little mouse was naughty, + And he bit me in a minute.” + +This solo, so cunningly sung by the pudgy little mite, “brought down the +house,” and little Katie and her family were delighted with the praise +which she received. Still the little girl stood upon the platform until +the audience began to think that she wished to sing another verse. + +“Go on, Katie,” called her brother Jack, “what yer waiting for?” + +“I forgot somefin and I dunno what. Oh, yes, I do. It’s dis,” and, +making a comical little bow, this very conscientious little soloist left +the platform, feeling that now her performance was complete. + +Every one laughed and gave Katie more praise, and she curled up in her +mother’s lap, feeling her wee self to be a very successful singer. + +“We will now look at a tableau called ‘Titian’s Daughter,’” announced +Jotham. + +Away flew the curtain and Jemima Babson stood in the fine pose, copying +to perfection the engraving of that subject. Jemima was resplendent. + +“Oh! oh!” ejaculated every one. A glint of bright light shone in her +eyes. She had liked that picture better than any which Miss Dayton had +shown the girls when they had called for the first rehearsal, and was +delighted when Helen chose it for her tableau. + +Next came her sister Belinda as the “Magdalene.” Belinda always wore her +yellow hair in braids, but to-night it shone like rippling gold over her +shoulders. With her blue eyes uplifted, and the shimmering mass of +yellow hair, who could believe that the “Magdalene” was Belinda Babson, +the girl who climbed every apple tree in her father’s orchard, and +laughed at chance passers-by from the highest branches. + +“A solo by Miss Dayton will close the entertainment.” + +Helen had sung at church with the congregation, but until to-night no +one, not even Randy, had heard her sing a solo. + +Ah, how sweet and clear sounded her voice as, looking across at old +Sandy McLeod, she sang “The Bluebells of Scotland.” + +The proverbial pin could have been heard had it been dropped. As the +last notes ceased, old Sandy arose, and, stoutly thumping on the floor +with his cane, shouted, “Well, noo, that’s bonny, say I, Sandy McLeod.” + +“That’s so,” said little Reuben Jenks, under his breath, for he sat +quite near old Sandy and was a bit afraid of him. The old Scotchman +owned a large farm on the outskirts of the town and was reported to have +a deal of money, which most people said he never spent. He lived alone +and was said to be rather crusty. + +One day, when out for a walk, Helen, in passing his door, saw old Sandy +sitting on his door-stone, trying to thread a needle. Helen paused for a +moment, saying kindly, “Please let me thread it for you.” + +The old man scowled and hesitated, then surrendered the needle. Helen +threaded it; then, after a few pleasant words, resumed her walk. + +The old fellow mumbled something, possibly thanks, and ever after that +morning pulled off his cap to Helen when he met her. + +Mrs. Gray laughed when Helen said she intended to invite him to the +entertainment, saying that he would never come. He came, however, very +promptly, and it was for him she sang the old Scotch ballad. + +“Now,” said Helen, “let us all sing, ‘Should Auld Acquaintance be +Forgot,’” and with a will they sang it, old Sandy joining in the chorus. + +It was now quite late, but good old Parson Spooner rose and proposed +three cheers for the young lady who had planned such a beautiful +entertainment. They were given heartily, and then every one crowded +around Helen to clasp her hand and thank her again, and of all the merry +party no one was happier than she. + +Turning to Mrs. Gray, after the last guest had departed, Helen said, “I +have often helped to entertain, with some success, but in the city one +does not always feel the thanks so enthusiastically expressed to be +sincere, but who could doubt the genuineness of the kind words spoken +to-night?” + + + + +CHAPTER IX—CALLERS + + +“Randy, wake up!” + +“Yes, oh yes, in a minute,” Randy answered, drowsily. + +“No, now, Randy, wake up now! I want to talk about those tab things what +we had last night,” and two little soft arms wound their way about +sleepy Randy’s neck. + +Randy rubbed her eyes, laughing as she said, “Do call them tableaux, +Prue, can’t you remember that? Tableaux, Prue, say so.” + +“Tabby-lows!” shouted Prue. “How’s that?” + +“Better,” said Randy, still laughing. + +“Well, whatever you call ’em, yours was the prettiest, Randy dear, the +very prettiest, and Jotham said so, too, so of course it’s true,” said +little Prue, who had been sitting up in bed in order to see her sister’s +face when she repeated the compliment. + +“Now, Prue,” said Randy, “did he say that because you asked him?” + +“Why, no,” said the child, whose smiling face now assumed an injured +expression. “He didn’t say it to me ’tall. He said it to his mother; I +heard him, and she said she thought so, too, I heard her; she sat just +behind us. Now, Randy Weston, I thought it was real nice to tell you, +and that’s what I waked you up for.” + +“It’s all very nice,” Randy answered, “that you liked my picture best; +and do you know, little sister, I would rather have you pleased than +almost any one, next to father and mother.” + +“Why?” questioned the little girl, in genuine surprise. + +“Because,” said her sister, “you’re a little girl who means just what +she says.” + +“Yes, I do mean it, Randy dear; you did look just the best of any one, +but you’d ought to seen Jotham,” she continued, “he meant it, too. He +meant it just _tremenjous_!” + +“Well, Jotham’s kind, too,” said Randy; then, with a happy little sigh, +she turned a smiling face to little Prue as she said, “’most every one’s +good, I do believe.” + +“Not near as good as you, Randy,” said Prue, thoughtfully; but, she +added, brightening, “I mean to be good all day, ’cause why do you +s’pose, Randy? ’Cause I had such a good time last night.” + +“That’s a good reason,” said Randy. Soon Randy proposed dressing, and at +the breakfast table Prue resumed the conversation with which she had +awakened Randy. + +All agreed that it had been just a lovely evening, but the little girl +was not quite satisfied. + +“Well, now, we did have a splendid time,” said she, “but I want you to +say my Randy was just the best of all.” + +“Why, of course, we say so,” said her father, laughing; “but who sang a +nice little song?” + +“Oh, I ’most forgot, I sang a little tune and so did Katie Buffum.” + +“So you did, so you did,” said her father, “and your mother and I +thought you little girls did your parts well.” + +“I think they all did wonderful,” said Mrs. Weston. “I was jest proud of +my girls, and my neighbors’ children, too. I do declare, I believe Miss +Dayton can do anything. Last evening jest did me good. Well, this won’t +do for me,” she added, “there’s a sight to do to-day.” + +“We’ll help,” said Randy and Prue together. + +“I guess I’ll have to have you help me, Randy, if you’re a mind to.” + +“Me too, me too,” cried Prue. + +So Randy filled a large pan with hot water and Prue armed herself with a +long towel, and the two commenced work as if their lives depended upon +it. + +Mrs. Weston was an energetic woman and soon her pies were made and +baked, and standing to cool upon the table. The children had worked +bravely all the forenoon, Randy doing a great deal to be helpful, and +Prue assisting in many small things. Randy was just thinking that she +would surely scorch if she remained in the hot kitchen another minute, +when such an interesting thing happened. + +Up the well-trodden path to the kitchen door came Mrs. Hodgkins, “the +best woman in town and the newsiest,” as Silas Barnes had described her. + +The children were always delighted to see her coming, as a call from +Mrs. Hodgkins meant numberless scraps of gossip, and in a small country +town where neighbors are few and far between, anything in the shape of +news is welcome. + +Laboriously the good woman stepped from door-stone to threshold, and +voluminously filling the wooden rocker which Mrs. Weston offered her, +she fanned herself with her handkerchief, ejaculating between gasps for +breath, “Lor’ me! How hot it is! Ef I ever get my breath again, I’ll try +ter talk a spell.” But it would have been something greater than +shortness of breath that could have completely silenced Mrs. Hodgkins. A +few energetic movements of the palm-leaf fan which Randy offered her, a +few moments of jerky rocking in the old wooden rocker, and she was ready +to begin. + +“Well there, Mis’ Weston, I b’lieve I can talk now,” said she. “Joel was +goin’ over to the barn raisin’, an’ I told him I didn’t care nothin’ +’bout seein’ it; but ef he’d a mind to drive me as fur as your house, +I’d call in an’ look at yer a spell, ’n’ I can’t spare the time to talk +’n’ not do somethin’ at the same time,” and she drew from a capacious +bag an old woollen stocking, saying, “I thought I’d bring my knittin’ +along and p’haps git this stockin’ footed down while I was talkin’.” + +“Why, that’s a woollen stocking,” said little Prue. + +“Lor’ yes, child, it’s one of Joel’s winter stockin’s. I was up attic +yesterday huntin’ over my rag bag, ’n’ I came across a lot of his old +winter stockin’s that I’d ’bout decided to throw away, ’n’ I says to +myself, ‘Sophrony Hodgkins, that’s downright wasteful,’ ’n’ I’ve just +set myself a task to foot ’em down ’fore winter.” Her needles clicked +furiously, and she knit around several times before she spoke again. +With her brows contracted she worked until she felt sure that her +knitting was “straightened out,” then she paused for a chat. + +“Did you know,” she commenced, “that Phœbe Small was a beggin’ an’ a +teasin’ her pa to send her to boardin’ school? Well, she is, ’n’ none of +the girls could find out what put it in her head ter want ter go ’til +Jemima Babson teased it out of her. Seems at the picnic Miss Dayton, in +some story she was tellin’ the children, let out that she went away from +home ter school, ’n’ Phœbe got the idee that ter go away ter school +would jest be the makin’ of her. Jemima don’t care what she says, an’ +she up an’ told Phœbe that it ‘would take more ’n boardin’ school to +make her as sweet as Miss Dayton,’ all of which was true, but not ter +Phœbe’s likin’.” + +“_Is_ she going to boarding school?” asked Randy. + +“Land, no! Her ma told her to wait ’til she’d learned all there was ter +learn at our deestric’ school ’fore she talked ’bout goin’ anywhere +else; and that ’bout finished it.” + +Here Mrs. Hodgkins, who had said all this without stopping, paused to +take breath. “I shouldn’t like my girls to be away at boardin’ school,” +said Mrs. Weston, “and I think Mrs. Small would feel ’bout as I do.” + +“An’ there’s Mrs. Buffum,” continued Mrs. Hodgkins, “with all her +children, ’n’ she says they’ve got to be where she can see ter them, an’ +git their larnin’ ter home, and now I’ll tell yer the joke. It seems +Miss Dayton laughed when she heard about it, for she wasn’t at boardin’ +school at all; she was at school, and was boardin’ at a big hotel with +her aunt, ’n’ the hotel was near the school. But there, ye know Phœbe +Small never gits anything more ’n half right. + +“But I’ll tell ye somethin’ worth tellin’. Old Sandy McLeod’s comin’ to +meetin’!” + +“You don’t say!” ejaculated Mrs. Weston, lifting her hands, and letting +them fall upon her lap, thereby showing the surprise which Mrs. Hodgkins +thought this piece of news deserved. + +“Well, you see, it was this way,” continued the bearer of this pleasant +bit of gossip; “it commenced with Miss Dayton’s doin’ a few little +things fer him. Nobody b’lieved fer a minute that he’d come to Mrs. +Gray’s, to the entertainment; but Miss Dayton asked him in her pretty +way, and he hadn’t the heart ter refuse ter come, ’n’ he had such a nice +evenin’, and heard her sing that Scotch song, and all, ’n’ he says now +he’s made a great mistake stayin’ off by himself so long. An’ he’s been +to Parson Spooner and, ef you’ll believe it, hired a whole pew, sayin’ +he could well afford to; en’ he says that as there’s only one in his +family, any one that wants ter can sit in his pew, any time. + +“He says he always went ter church, though he calls it ‘kirk,’ or +something like that, when he was a young man and lived in Scotland; an’ +he says, rain or shine, we’ll see him in his place every Sunday, after +this. When somebody asked him what made him think of goin’ ter church +again, he drew that great rough hand of his across his eyes, and jist +said, ‘It’s all the doin’ of that lass,’ meanin’ Miss Dayton. And let me +tell yer somethin’ queerer than that! Did ye notice old Nathan Lawton +the other night? + +“My! how his eyes twinkled when the children were singin’. Ye know he’s +dreadful fond of children; but ye know, too, ef ye know anything, that +he’s tighter ’n the bark of a tree. Well, Miss Dayton heard say what a +bad room fer heatin’ that schoolroom was, and how the little buildin’ +was kind er fer off fer most of the children. + +“Wal’, after we’d seen all the pictures, or what yer call ’ems, and +she’d sung her song so sweetly, old Nathan spoke ter her, an’ thanked +her for the pleasant evenin’, sayin’ he’d do most anythin’ ter obleege +her, in return, as ye might say, fer his enjoyment; and I had ter laugh +softly ter myself when she put her little white hand on his arm and said +she thought nothin’ would please her so much as ter think, when she went +home, that the children here would start ter school in a comfortable, +warm room, ’specially ef it could be one that was handy for them all; +and she asked him, as one of the see-lect-men, ter manage it some way. + +“He just took one look at the smilin’ face lookin’ up at him, and then +and there offered the use of that front room of his’n, and promised ter +keep it roastin’ warm all winter, from his own woodpile. His house is +just about the handiest ter every one of any house in town, and I do say +that was a han’some offer. + +“Any other folks might have asked him ’til they got tired askin’; but he +couldn’t refuse her, ’n’ I don’t wonder. She’s just done us a world of +good this summer, ’n’ in such an easy, pretty way that we’ve just +enjoyed it. + +“And now I’ve come ter what fetched me here ter day. Mrs. Gray said ter +me that Miss Dayton never went to an apple-bee; and I was thinkin’ she +got up that picnic, and that splendid evenin’ with the music,”—“and tab +things,” said Prue,—“an’ I’ve been thinkin’ it’s ’bout time we got up +somethin’ fer her,” said good Mrs. Hodgkins, and she beamed upon Mrs. +Weston and Randy as she waited for their approval. + +“I think so too,” said Randy and her mother together; “but do you think +that she would enjoy an apple-bee?” + +“Well, we couldn’t get up anything fine,” said Mrs. Hodgkins; “but they +do say that our apple-bees are ’bout the best that they have anywhere +’round here.” + +Mrs. Weston thought a moment, then said: “Our house is the biggest in +the neighborhood, an’ Miss Dayton has been so kind to Randy and Prue +that I’ll say we’ll have the apple-bee here, and I think we’ll try extry +hard to make it a pleasant one. I’m real glad you thought of it, Mrs. +Hodgkins. I think we’ll all enjoy it, an’ if Miss Dayton does, that’s +all we’ll ask for.” + +“Well, ef here ain’t Joel,” said Mrs. Hodgkins, “an’ I’ll have ter be +goin’; but I’ll come over an’ help ye git ready for the apple-bee, so +good-by ’til I see ye again,” and she hastily took her departure, +puffing down the walk like a small engine, and clambering into the wagon +beside her husband. “Good-by, I’ll be over ter help ye,” she cried, +looking back; then they jogged off down the road. + +Randy and her mother turned from the doorway and walked back into the +kitchen. “Look at that clock, Randy!” exclaimed Mrs. Weston; “I guess +it’ll be a funny dinner to-day,” and she commenced to make hasty +preparations for the noon meal. + +Mr. Weston laughed good-naturedly when he heard of the forenoon caller, +and in consequence the “picked-up dinner.” “Lots of folks haven’t as +good a dinner as this, mother,” said he, “and I must say, I’m glad she +came in ter talk ter ye and so make ye stop workin’ a spell. Where is +Prue?” + +Sure enough, the little girl who was always eager to tell a part of any +happening was, for once, not in evidence. So busy had Randy and her +mother been, preparing the dinner, that Prue had not been missed. + +“She went out when Mrs. Hodgkins went, don’t you remember, mother?” said +Randy. “She ran down the path, waving her hand and saying good-by when +they drove away.” + +“Well, Randy, run out and find her, and tell her ter come in ter dinner. +Dear me! I hope she hasn’t got inter some scrape. She’s been out of +sight long enough fer anything.” Out rushed Randy, calling loudly, +“Prue! Prue! where are you?” + +“I’m right here, and I’m very busy,” came an answering shout from behind +the house. + +Around the house ran Randy, and such a funny sight she saw! + +“Why, Prue Weston, you naughty girl!” said Randy in dismay. + +“I ain’t naughty,” said the child. + +“You are, too,” responded Randy, “to plague kitty like that. You just +take her out of that rain-water tub this minute! If she wasn’t the best +old cat in the world, she would have scratched you well for ducking her +like that.” + +Prue tried to lift pussy out, and Randy ran to help her. + +Poor pussy! If Randy had been a few minutes later, she must surely have +been drowned, for, just as Randy arrived, Prue was holding Tabby’s head +under water “to let it soak,” she said. + +“What ever made you do such a thing?” questioned Randy, when the cat was +once more on dry land; “don’t you know that in a few minutes more you +would have drowned her?” + +“Drowned!” said Prue in a horrified whisper, “drowned, did you say, +Randy?” + +“Why, of course,” said Randy, impatiently; “don’t you _know_ she’d drown +with her head under water?” + +“Why, Randy, that’s awful!” said Prue. “I didn’t mean to hurt Tabby. I +only meant to help her. She comed down from the field what’s been burned +over, and she was all smutty, and I thought I’d give her a good washing; +so I put her in the tub, but the smut sticked awful, and I thought I’d +soak her and p’rhaps she’d wash easier; and, Randy, whatever you say, +she _isn’t_ drowned one mite. Just see her washing herself dry in the +sun.” + +“Oh, Prue, Prue!” said Randy, “what shall I do with you? You do the +queerest things! Go tell Tabby you’re sorry this minute. If kitty had +died, just think how you’d felt.” + +“Now, don’t you make me cry, Randy,” said Prue, “’cause you know I love +Tabby, and I didn’t mean to hurt her.” + +The cat was an unusually placid animal, or she never would have +permitted a little girl to do such a thing. Prue had always used her for +a doll, dressing her up in all sorts of things, and sometimes dragging +her about in a wooden box which she called a “carriage.” This alleged +vehicle was an old soap box, beautifully padded with a woollen shawl. It +had neither wheels nor springs, and as little Prue dragged it along, it +thumped over twigs and stones with the most surprising jolts. Pussy, +however, seemed to have a species of lethargy, for she slept through it +all; so Prue insisted that she liked the ride. The family declared the +cat to be absolutely without vim; but that deficiency in her make-up +made her a delightful plaything for Prue. + +After dinner Mrs. Weston talked long and seriously with her little +daughter, telling her that as pussy was so gentle and willing to be +played with, she ought to be very kind to her and never do anything that +Tabby would not like. + +“But I wanted Tabby to be clean in time for the folks to see her when we +have the apple-bee,” said Prue. + +“Oh, she’ll be clean as clean can be by that time,” said her mother, +smiling. “She’ll have a whole week to wash in. I think that when you +wish to do something to kitty different from what you’ve done before, +you’d better come and ask me first.” + +“I will,” said the little girl, promptly, and Mrs. Weston knew that +pussy was safe from any new torment, for Prue always kept her word, and +she loved Tabby dearly. + +Early in the afternoon, as Mrs. Weston sat by the window mending, +another wagon stopped at the door; and this time a tall, angular woman +came up the path with nervous haste. The door was open, and without +waiting to knock, the caller walked in and seated herself. + +“There, I guess you’re s’prised to see me, Mis’ Weston, but I jest had +ter come.” + +“Well, I am surprised,” responded Mrs. Weston; “but I’m just as pleased +ter see ye. Take off yer bunnit.” + +“I’ll take it off jest ter show it ter ye,” said Mrs. Jenks. “I thought +I’d had a change of heart years an’ years ago, but I guess I’ve jest got +it now.” + +“Do tell! Why, Mrs. Jenks, how ye talk,” and in blank amazement Mrs. +Weston stopped mending, the stocking, however, still drawn over her +hand. + +“Well, ye might as well stop mendin’ an’ listen, fer I’ve come ter tell +ye quite a story. It all began with this bunnit. I stepped over ter Mis’ +Gray’s one mornin’ of an arrant, an’ I chanced to say something about +not havin’ a decent bunnit fer Sunday, an’ I said I had a bunnit I’d +bought down ter Barnses and quite a lot of old ribbon that was plenty +good enough to trim it with; but, says I, I’ve no more idee how to trim +it than a cat. Miss Dayton was just comin’ in the door with a lot of +wild flowers and green stuff, and she offered, so sweetly, to call over +in the afternoon and jest tack the ribbons on fer me that, some way, I +had ter let her do it. + +“Well, she came over and I got out my ribbon—it was that I had on a blue +dress of mine once—and she sat down to trim it. It took some time, and +to this day I don’t know how it came about, but the first thing I knew +she was a-makin’ me see how much better it was to give rather than +receive. Now I’ve been pretty ‘near’ and savin’, but I never meant ter +be mean; but she led me to talk of the time when Reuben was little, and +’fore I knew it I was tellin’ that girl how I used to leave my work jist +ter look at him in the old wooden cradle. I told her what I’d most +forgot myself: how I could never let him lay there, but jest had ter +take him up and hug him jest a minute an’ then go on with my work. I’ve +never meant ter be hard with the boy, but p’r’aps I forgit sometimes +that he’s pretty young still. + +“Well, Miss Dayton looked up from the bows she was makin’ pretty, and +says she, ‘Reuben’s a nice little fellow, and I think, if you were to +try it, you’d find he liked petting still. I’ve talked with him many +times since I’ve been here, and I find that his one idea seems to be to +grow up as fast as possible so as to be able to help father and mother.’ + +“I tell ye, Mis’ Weston, I was all took back to find a sweet young girl +who was ’most a stranger to us had learned my boy’s good traits ’fore I +had. Well, when Reuben came in jist ’fore supper-time with his jacket +with a big tear in it, I was jist ready ter say somethin’. He took the +jacket off and hung it on my chair ter be mended; and layin’ his hand on +my shoulder, he said, ‘I wish I didn’t get my things tore quite so +often, mother, but this time I couldn’t help it.’ + +“It took lots er resolution, but I jest kissed him on his forehead, and +the s’prised look on his face made me realize how long it had been sence +I’d kissed him before. + +“‘Reuben,’ says I, ‘no matter what I say when I speak hasty, just +remember that yer mother thinks the world of ye!’ + +“‘F you’ll believe me, that boy flew at me, and puttin’ his arms round +my neck he said, ‘Why, mother, a minute ago I was awful sorry, and now +I’m almost glad I tore my jacket.’ + +“‘So be I,’ says I, and then we both laughed, but we were jest as near +cryin’, and I tell you, Mis’ Weston, I ain’t never goin’ ter have such a +distance, so to speak, between my boy and me as there has been; I guess +we understand each other now.” + +“Well, I don’t know when I’ve heard any better news,” said Mrs. Weston, +taking off her glasses and slowly wiping them. “I think pretty well of +little Reuben, and I b’lieve, properly encouraged, he’ll make a good +man.” + +“Well, now, it beats all how Miss Dayton does things,” said Mrs. Jenks. +“Some folks would have blundered about it in a way that would have made +me mad, but to this day, I do say, I don’t know how she done it. And +look at that bunnit,” continued enthusiastic Mrs. Jenks, “didn’t she +make them bows pretty? I declare, there ain’t a prettier bunnit in the +meetin’-house than that.” + +“’Tis pretty,” assented Mrs. Weston; “just as pretty as it can be.” + +“So I say,” said Mrs. Jenks, “and now this mornin’ I met Mis’ Hodgkins +and her husband. ‘They’d just come from here,’ they said, ‘and,’ says +Mis’ Hodgkins, ‘we’re goin’ ter have the first apple-bee ter Mis’ +Weston’s and,’ says she, sorter smilin’, ‘I ain’t sure’s you’ll be very +anxious ter help, but we’re all goin’ ter do our part ter help make a +grand time fer Miss Dayton;’ and says I, ‘If it’s fer Miss Dayton, I’ll +agree to contribute anything you like toward the supper, and I’ll go +right over now an’ tell Mis’ Weston so.’ My, but didn’t she look at me! +I laughed ter myself, an’ I said right out loud, as I drove off, +‘Matilda Jenks, this is the last time any one will have a chance ter +call ye stingy.’ + +“I commenced this mornin’ by givin’ Reuben a lot of maple sugar to treat +the boys with, and I tell you Miss Dayton’s ’bout right, it does feel +good to give. We’ve been prospered, and from this time forth I ain’t +goin’ ter be foolish with this world’s goods; but I _vow_ I won’t be +mean; so I’ve come ter say that if there’s anythin’ I can offer ter help +make the bee a success, jest say the word an’ you shall have it.” + +“Mrs. Jenks,” said Mrs. Weston, kindly, “I always said ye hadn’t but one +fault, and now you’ve overcome that, seems to me you’re pretty near +perfect.” + +“I guess there’s room fer improvement,” said Mrs. Jenks, grasping her +friend’s extended hand, “but I’ve started in the right direction. Now, I +must be goin’, and remember I’ll do anything ter help along that bee.” + +Mrs. Weston promised to remember, and as rapidly as she came Matilda +Jenks strode down the path and drove away. + +A few minutes later Randy came running in at the door. “Oh, mother,” +said she, “I ran out to look for Prue again, while Mrs. Jenks was +talking, and, mother, she’s doing the cunningest thing. She’s playing +read. She’s lying on the grass back of the house, with the fairy book in +front of her. She’s making b’lieve read to Tabby. Do come and see her.” + +Softly they made their way around the house and, sure enough, there lay +Prue, the wonderful fairy book before her, her elbows on the book, and +her chin in her hands. Soon they were near enough to hear what she was +reading, and yet not to be observed. + +[Illustration: Prue and Tabby reading the Fairy Book] + +“Now, Tabby,” she was saying, “you _mustn’t_ go to sleep when I’m +reading to you. Now you listen: The princess—that’s Miss Dayton, +Tabby—is very beautiful, and so I know there must be a prince, +somewhere, that she knows; ’cause, Tabby, in the fairy tales the +princesses always has princes; and, Tabby, I’ll tell you truly, Miss +Dayton is prettier than any picture in this book. And, Tabby, she loves +little girls and big girls, like my Randy, and she loves big womens and +old womens and old mens, like Sandy McLeod; and, Tabby, I b’lieve, I +most b’lieve she loves you, and I’m going to ask her. + +“She prob’ly does love you; she seems to love everybody. This isn’t all +in the book, Tabby, but what I tell you that isn’t in the book is true. +I’m most glad the fairy stories ain’t true; for if things did happen +like what’s in the book, maybe you’d turn into a frog, and then, Tabby, +I couldn’t hug you.” + +Here Tabby rubbed her head against Prue’s little arm. “There,” said the +child, “you _knew_ what I said, didn’t you?” and she sprang up, catching +Tabby in her arms to “love her,” as she called it. + +“Oh, did you hear me reading to my kitty?” shouted Prue, as she caught +sight of her smiling audience. + +“We heard ye, and I guess some of it was full as pretty as what was in +the book,” said Mrs. Weston, and together the three wended their way +back to the house, followed by Tabby. + + + + +CHAPTER X—THE APPLE-BEE + + +The apple-bee was to occur on Thursday evening, and Mrs. Weston and +Randy, with little Prue for “errand boy,” had been busily employed in +preparation for the delightful event. Prue made a fine little page, so +delighted was she to be useful. + +“Bring me the yellow mixin’ bowl, Prue,” called Mrs. Weston. Into the +closet darted Prue, and over to the table with the big bowl she +hastened. “Now what shall I do to help the apple-bee?” said she. + +“Perhaps the apple-bee would like to have you pull all the stems off +these raisins,” said her mother, laughing. So Prue sat down upon the +large braided rug near the door and began to stem the raisins with all +her might. Soon Mrs. Hodgkins arrived and imperiously ordered her +husband to “lug in that crock from the wagon.” + +“For mercy’s sake!” ejaculated Mrs. Weston, “whatever have you got +there?” as, puffing and blowing, Joel Hodgkins landed an immense stone +crock upon the kitchen table. + +“Well, I’ll tell ye,” said Mrs. Hodgkins; “I know this is no donation +party, but I had this big crock er doughnuts, and I says, says I, +‘Somebody will eat ’em ef I take ’em over,’ so here they be.” + +“Sophrony wouldn’t think she was takin’ part in the bee if some of her +prize doughnuts wasn’t in the treat.” + +Every one laughed at Joel Hodgkins’s speech, and the doughnuts were very +kindly received. + +“We all know that your doughnuts are the best in town,” said Mrs. +Weston, “and I guess everybody’ll be glad to have one, I’m sure—” but +the remark was left incomplete as she hastened to the door to admit Mrs. +Jenks. + +“How are ye, Mrs. Weston? I had Reuben drive me over, and I’ve brought a +lot of those big red apples, ef ye don’t mind havin’ ’em. Reuben an’ I +have rubbed and polished ’em ’til they shine like everything. I thought +maybe they’d make the table look pretty,” and she flushed as she offered +this first contribution of her life. + +“They will look handsome,” said Mrs. Weston. “I declare it was real +thoughtful in you to bring them. Why, for goodness’ sake! How many did +ye bring?” as Reuben arrived with basket after basket, which he placed +in a row upon the table, and then commenced to make another row upon the +swing table on the opposite side of the room. + +“I’ve no idee how many there is,” said Mrs. Jenks. “Reuben an’ I +commenced rubbin’ and polishin’ ’em right after breakfast, and we never +stopped rubbin’ ’til we was ready to start. Then we packed in the +baskets, and here we be.” + +Meanwhile the neighbors had removed bonnets and shawls, and three +energetic housekeepers, with the help of Randy and little Prue, +succeeded in “keeping things moving,” as Mrs. Jenks had expressed it. + +Suddenly, Jotham Potts’s dark face peeped in at the door, with, “Say, +Mrs. Weston, I’m a master hand at chopping, so any time I can help, just +give me a chopping knife and tray, and I’ll work like a major.” + +“I’ll bear ye in mind, and call ye when I want ye,” answered Mrs. +Weston, and Prue rushed to the door to offer him a handful of raisins, +saying, “I give them to you, Jotham, ’cause you’re the biggest and the +nicest boy I know.” + +“Thank you, pussy. Hey! where are you now?” and he swung the child +lightly up on his shoulder. + +“May I go with Jotham ’stead of picking any more raisins?” + +“Yes, run along,” said her mother, glad to have her in the care of some +one whom she could trust to keep her out of mischief. + +So busily did every one work that by Wednesday night the cooking for the +spread was completed. Old and young had helped with a will to make the +evening a success, and at last Thursday arrived, although Prue confided +to Randy that she “b’lieved it never would.” + +When the final decorations for the apple-bee were in place, everything +needed for the sumptuous spread ready, there was absolutely nothing to +do but wait patiently for the evening to come. + +The apples were to be cut, cored, and strung in the kitchen, the spread +was to be in the “settin’ room,” and all the rooms were decorated so +gayly that they appeared festive indeed. Randy had decorated the “best +room,” making it gay with branches of autumn leaves, in gorgeous colors, +and sprays of scarlet privet berries. + +The Babson girls had had a bright idea in regard to trimming the +“settin’ room.” + +“What’s the reason we can’t tie the corn husks together at the tip ends, +and keep on tying ’til we get enough to go around the room, and then +hang up the long string of ears and husks just above the pictures?” +queried Belinda Babson. + +“Oh, Belinda!” screamed Randy, “that’s such a bright idea, what ever +made you think of it?” + +“I just did think of it, that’s all,” said Belinda, much pleased that +her design for decoration met with approval. So the girls rushed out to +the barn to find Mr. Weston and ask permission to use the corn. + +“Land, yes,” he said when approached, “use anything within reach, I say, +so long as it helps to make the house look pooty;” so, laughing gayly, +the girls filled their aprons with corn, and running to the house +commenced, in furious haste, to tie the husks together. + +All the young friends had called that morning in a body to offer their +help to Randy, and she had most gladly accepted it. + +While the girls were tying the corn husks, Jotham Potts and Reuben Jenks +were making themselves very useful, for by this time the girls had +discovered that it required a great many ears of corn with which to +garland or festoon the room. The boys brought the corn in wheelbarrow +loads and then offered to help do the tying. + +“Oh, boys couldn’t do this,” said Phœbe Small, who was much piqued to +see that whenever Jotham sat down to rest, he sat near Randy. + +“That’s one of your pleasant speeches, Phœbe,” said Reuben Jenks, before +his friend Jotham could reply; whereat Phœbe tied a hard knot in a corn +husk with such unnecessary vim that it broke. + +Reuben laughed slyly; and Randy with her usual kindness, appearing not +to notice the tilt, praised Phœbe’s pretty arrangement of red and yellow +ears, and thus smoothed “ruffled feathers.” + +Jotham looked at Randy with real admiration. “I b’lieve she always does +the right thing,” thought the boy; so Phœbe’s spite only strengthened +the admiration of Randy’s young cavalier. + +“I think I’ve got a first-rate notion for decorating,” said Jotham, “and +if you’ll let me and Reuben do it I tell you we can make that front walk +as light as day, and as handsome as a picture for to-night, Randy,” and +Jotham looked at the girl with eyes that sparkled with enthusiasm. + +“Of course I’ll let you do it, if it’s fine,” said Randy. + +“Now you needn’t ask questions, for it’s a secret; and Reuben an’ me’ll +do it, without telling anybody but your pa,” said Jotham, and out rushed +the boys to hold a whispered conclave on the back stairs. + +“My, won’t that be prime!” ejaculated Reuben, amazed at the brilliancy +of Jotham’s plan, and proud to be taken into a secret by a boy three +years older than himself. + +Mr. Weston laughed long and loudly when the boys unfolded their plan, +and declared that he’d do his part of it now. Accordingly, he soon +appeared in the path which led from the road to the door, and began to +drive long stakes into the ground on either side of the walk. + +“What are you doing, father?” called Randy. + +“Drivin’ stakes, ain’t I?” he responded, and with that she was obliged +to be contented. The boys were out of sight, and the girls wondered what +they were doing; but when at night a line of brilliant lights glowed on +each side of the walk, they willingly declared the decoration a success. + +Mr. Weston had driven the stakes quite near together and every one was +capped with a jack-o’-lantern made from a great golden pumpkin, so that, +from road to doorway, a line of grinning goblins served to give a +flaming welcome. + +At last everything was in readiness and the guests began to arrive. +Reuben’s mother had listened with much interest to the boy’s scheme, and +had insisted on donating all the pumpkins required. + +And now the wagons began to arrive, and great praise was bestowed upon +the boys for their novel lighting of the walk. The pumpkins made very +fine lamps, and one giant of its kind, fastened high above the door, +smiled broadly upon each new arrival. + +Team after team drove up to the door, and shouts and laughter rang out +on the crisp evening air as the guests first saw the gleaming lantern +rows. + +At last nearly every one had arrived, and the rooms were bright with +happy faces. In one corner a group of old ladies were chatting about the +bees and huskings which they had enjoyed in their youth. + +The farmers and their wives were buzzing away over the latest bit of +village gossip, the women telling it as they “b’lieved it was,” and the +men using convincing arguments to show that they had heard it “straight” +at the store at the four corners. + +Girls and boys tried to out-talk each other, and everywhere the children +ran in and out, playing “hide-and-seek” behind the sturdy forms of their +elders. + +Helen had coaxed Randy to refrain from brushing back every curling lock, +telling her that her hair was made to curl; and thus convinced, Randy +appeared at the bee with a soft fluff of her light brown hair making a +halo about her face. + +“I must say Miss Dayton’s right; I like the looks of it,” said Mrs. +Weston, when Randy appeared before her with her hair dressed in the +manner which Miss Dayton had suggested; so with much impatience Randy +waited to see the look of approval on Helen’s face when she should +arrive. And others were looking for Helen in whose honor this festival +was planned. + +At last a resounding “Whoa! Be still, can’t ye?” announced the arrival +of old Sandy McLeod, and great was the surprise when, as Randy opened +the door, Helen—smiling, radiant Helen—came in, saying, “Good evening, +friends,” and followed by her ancient cavalier, old Sandy. + +“The lass is late because too many lads wanted to bring her,” said +Sandy, his old eyes twinkling. + +“That is true,” said Helen, laughing, “too many lads, so I gave my +choice to the eldest. Now for my bundle,” and stepping out into the +centre of the room Sandy showed, for the first time, that he held a +large parcel. + +“I have a little surprise for you, dear friends,” said Helen; “I wished +to offer my mite toward the evening’s pleasure, so I will ask Mrs. +Weston to allow Mr. McLeod—” + +“Call me Sandy, lass,” said the old man, gently. + +“To allow Sandy,” corrected the girl, “to place this box on the centre +of the supper table, to be opened when we are all seated around the +spread.” + +So the big box held its place of honor, and great was the curiosity +concerning it. + +The children now commenced to play “the needle’s eye,” an old game +popular among the country children, which is very similar to “London +Bridge.” + + “The needle’s eye it doth comply + With the thread which runs so true. + It has caught many a very fine lass, + And now it has caught you.” + +Little Hitty Buffum found herself a prisoner. However, she was soon +kissed and released, and through the arch formed by clasped hands and +uplifted arms trooped the children, keeping time to the sing-song chant +of the queer verse. They saw nothing funny in the verse, however, and +played the game with great enthusiasm. + +Meanwhile the apples were being pared by industrious hands and soon the +“stringing” began. Merrily the work went on with jokes and lively +chatter, and before it seemed possible the task was completed. + +The boys now gathered up the parings, carried them away, and once more +the room was in order. + +“Now, friends,” said Randy’s father, “let’s all have supper.” No one +waited for a second invitation, and a cheery, happy party made a +complete circle around the long table. What a spread that was! Hot baked +beans and brown bread, mince pies, pumpkin pies, gingerbread and +doughnuts, nuts and apples, made a “treat for a king,” said old Sandy +McLeod. + +“Now, Mr. Weston,” said Helen, “please open my box;” and when the cover +was removed a chorus of “Ohs” and “Ahs” greeted the sight disclosed. +Helen had sent to Boston for an immense box of bonbons, and to those +simple country people, who knew naught but home-made confections, the +rose and violet tinted dainties looked like a fairy gift. But if they +were unacquainted with such candies, it took a fabulously short time to +learn to like them, and soon the bottom of the box appeared. + +Happy Helen, to have given so much pleasure! And now the table which had +been so bountifully spread was beginning to look bare, for everybody had +had a most excellent appetite, and had done full justice to the meal. +The chairs were pushed back and old Sandy asked to have a bit of music. +“The little lassies who sang the other night, canna they sing?” said he, +looking kindly at Prue and Katie, who were playing “bean porridge hot” +together. + +“Ain’t any pi-ano here,” said Katie. + +“Never mind that,” said Helen; “I think if you and Prue sing the little +songs which you sang the other evening so sweetly, Sandy will, in +return, make some music for you.” + +“That I will,” responded the old man, heartily; “but there’s naught so +blithe as the sound of a bairnie’s voice.” + +So wee Katie was mounted upon a chair, in lieu of a platform, and she +sang the little solo, “Once there was a little mouse,” giving all the +verses, and even remembering to make a little bow as Helen had taught +her. Indeed, she bowed so vigorously that she barely escaped losing her +balance. Then she hopped down, and little Prue sprang up in her place, +singing, “Sometimes I am a daisy bloom,” just as she had sung it at Mrs. +Gray’s on the evening of the tableaux. When she had finished the last +lines, + + “And next to those I love the best + I love each one of you,” + +she kissed her little finger tips to her admiring audience, as Helen had +taught her to do. + +Every one applauded, and old Sandy called the children to him, saying, +“I’ll make the music for ye now, I wad na hae the heart to refuse,” and +rising hastily he left the room. Every one was surprised at this abrupt +movement and wondered if the childish voice had moved him too deeply, +awakening the memories of his Scottish home and friends. + +Silent he had ever been in regard to home and kindred, answering +questions in a manner which invited no further queries; but since +Helen’s stay in the village he had warmed wonderfully toward his +neighbors, and seemed quite unlike the silent old man whom they had +known. + +But while they were wondering about his absence, Sandy reappeared. What +a change! Arrayed in all the bravery of a Scottish chieftain, old Sandy +stood before them, a picture indeed. + +Over a kilt of tartan he wore the red coat and plaid, and on his head, +crowning his white locks, sat a genuine Scotch “bonnet,” with an eagle +feather black as night. In his hands he carried the bagpipes, and while +the children stared, open-mouthed, Sandy commenced to play. “Scots Wha +Hae” rang out with a wonderful skirl, followed by “Bonnie Prince +Charlie,” “Jock o’ Hazeldean,” and a half dozen more, until old Nathan +Lawton declared that there was no keeping still with such music, and +when at his request the pipes commenced to play a rollicking reel, old +Nathan remarked that he used to cut “pigeon wings” and he guessed he +could now, took his position in the centre of the floor, and proceeded +to cut them in a wonderful manner. + +If the children were delighted, so were their elders, for was this not a +treat of which they had not dreamed? and, best of all, two old people +who had been so cold and forbidding now were warmed and charmed into a +friendly feeling with all their neighbors. + +When Sandy and Nathan Lawton stopped to rest and regain their breath, +the young people crowded around them to thank them and to examine the +fine Scotch costume which Sandy wore. + +“That’s a pretty dress and jacket,” said little Prue, admiringly, “and +you’ve got such a long sash, too.” + +The child’s admiration for his costume pleased the old man, and it was +of small consequence to him that she called his kilt a dress. Lifting +Prue upon his knee, he stroked her short fair curls, telling her how +like the little lass she was who used to be his playmate in bonnie +Scotland. + +[Illustration: “‘Why don’t you send the Little Girl a Letter?’”] + +“Is she big as me?” asked the little girl, all unmindful that Sandy’s +child mate had had many years in which to grow. + +A moment the old man hesitated, then, very gently, he told the child +upon his knee of that other child away in bonnie Scotland; told her that +when his little mate was a child, he had been a child too; that he had +known her all his young life; that she had grown old as he had, and +now—but here he paused, and practical little Prue, looking up at him, +asked, “Is it far to Scotland?” Sandy told her that it was very far +indeed. + +“Too far to send letters?” was the next question. + +“No,” he assured her; “it was not as far as that.” + +“Then why don’t you send the little girl a letter?” questioned Prue. + +Those who had heard the question were fearful that the old Scotchman +would be displeased. + +For a moment a look of amazement rested on Sandy’s face as he stared at +the innocent questioner; then, as with an effort, he said, “I will, +little lass, I will.” + +“I would,” said little Prue, “and tell her there’s another little girl, +what you know, sends her love to her, will you, Sandy?” + +“Bless the bairn! Ye hae mair wisdom than ye ken;” adding under his +breath, “a deal mair wisdom than Sandy McLeod.” + +It was Helen, who, while walking by his house, had heard Sandy playing +the pipes ever so softly, and looking in, had seen him playing, and, at +the same time, looking lovingly at the old Scotch costume as it lay +spread out upon the wooden chest in which it was usually kept. She had +coaxed a part of his story from him that day, and he had declared he +felt better for the telling. + +The costume was one which his father had worn as chief of his clan when +Sandy was a young man. There had been a dispute in which he and his +father had been equally obstinate. + +When the old man died, Sandy had left Scotland, taking with him the suit +of tartan, the bagpipes, and, dearer than all, a letter in which his +father forgave him for his part in the dispute. Further than this he +refused to talk, saying nothing whatever as to living kinsmen or +friends. + +Having told a part of his story to Helen, to which she listened with +ready interest and sympathy, it needed but a hit of judicious coaxing to +get him to promise to play at the apple-bee. + +And now the gayety, which had lulled while every one had listened to the +music, revived, and each one present seemed to be trying his best to +out-talk his neighbor. + +“Isn’t Miss Dayton’s blue dress the very handsomest dress you ever saw?” +said Jemima Babson. + +“Yes, and isn’t she the handsomest person you ever saw in _any_ dress?” +said Phœbe Small, looking sharply at Randy, who was looking unusually +pretty with her hair dressed to show its curls and ripples. + +“Miss Dayton’s splendid, we all know that,” said Jotham, blushing +furiously; “but it don’t make it out that Randy Weston isn’t amazing +pretty.” + +And here another voice chimed in, “Did yer ever taste anything like that +candy in yer life?” + +“It was just splendid, and I do b’lieve—” + +“Have ye noticed Mrs. Jenks? I do declare, she’s as much different from +what she used ter be as possible. Why, she sent them fine apples, and +gave the hull of them pumpkins, and—” + +Just at this point Mrs. Buffum ejaculated, “Well, as I live! ef it ain’t +half-past ten o’clock,” and she commenced at once to collect her brood. +All were loath to leave the joyous scene, but the lateness of the hour +made it imperative. Some one proposed a song before saying good night, +and soon old and young voices chimed sweetly together as they sang:— + + “All the year round, all the year round, + What are the seasons to you or to me? + Summer may go, bleak winds may blow, + Roses crown winter if cheery we be. + Sounds of the glad spring, pleasures the birds bring, + These live in loving hearts where’er they’re found; + Sweet is the May time, sweet is the hay time, + So sweet are loving lips, all the year round.” + +“Hooray for the apple-bee! Hooray for Miss Dayton!” shouted Reuben +Jenks, “Hooray for the bagpipes and the dance!” Every one cheered, and +Jotham, laughing at his friend’s enthusiasm, shouted, “Hooray for every +one and everything!” and they even cheered that; so, laughing and +cheering, with lively chatter and snatches of song, wraps were donned +and good nights said. + +After the last guest had departed, Randy turned from the doorway, and +going back into the house she sat down opposite her father, a happy +smile upon her lips. + +“Well, Randy,” said her father, kindly, as he saw she had something to +say. + +“Oh, father,” she said, “doesn’t it make you happy to see every one +having a good time?” + +“Yes, indeed, it does,” said father and mother together. + +“I mean to try always to make people happy,” said Randy. + +“So do I,” said little Prue; “but now let’s go to bed.” + +Randy laughed, and saying, “You’ve done bravely, Prue, to keep your eyes +open to-night,” led her little sister up the stairs to their tiny +chamber, where soon they were fast asleep. + +The Babson girls talked until after midnight over the evening’s +entertainment, declaring it to be the “very greatest bee they ever went +to.” + +Phœbe Small, having no sister to talk it over with, kept the candle +burning until late that night, while she wrote in her diary a lengthy +description of the event. Phœbe had heard her mother tell of keeping a +diary when she was young, so, of course, Phœbe, who ardently admired her +mother, immediately commenced to keep one. + +Old Sandy McLeod, as he gallantly helped Helen Dayton to alight at Mrs. +Gray’s door, thanked her over and over again for the pleasure she had +given him in allowing him to be her escort, telling her that he was glad +enough that she had urged him to play the pipes, since the music had +given such pleasure; adding, “Old Nathan and old Sandy hae’ na been the +best of friends and neighbors, but to-night we hae shaken hands an’ +we’re to be friends forever.” + +“Oh, I’m so glad,” said Helen. + +“And ane thing mair, lass,” he interrupted, “about that letter the +little lass was talking of, I’ll write it to-night!” + +“It is late, now,” said Helen. + +“None too late to write. I’ll do it to-night and sen’ it to-morrow, as +sure as I’m Sandy McLeod.” + +True to his word, Sandy sat at his table until late into the night, +writing a long, long letter. The candle flickered as his hand moved back +and forth across the pages. + +Many times he paused while writing, and with his head resting upon his +hand, he seemed to be thinking how best to express himself, so that his +message might find favor with his old friend and playmate. + +At last, apparently, the letter was completed satisfactorily; for as the +old man arose from the table, a faint smile flitted across his face. + +Crossing the room to the old chest by the window, he fumbled about until +he brought from its depths a little package; then, walking to the table, +he placed the tiny parcel between the folded pages of the letter, put +the letter into its envelope, and with utmost care addressed it, reading +the address over three times to make sure that it was correct. Under his +pillow he placed the letter, saying, “With the light o’ day I’ll start +ye on the journey.” And of all the merry party who laughed and sang away +the hours at the apple-bee, not one possessed a happier heart than +Sandy. + +And Helen murmured, softly, as she lay half awake and half asleep, +“Every one was happy to-night.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI—AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR + + +The sun rose in golden splendor one morning to find that a curtain of +purple haze prevented his sunship from showing all his dazzling glory. + +It was indeed a typical October morning in New England. For a time the +haze prevailed, holding her own bravely against the sun, who struggled +for supremacy; but at last he rose triumphant, the mist softly melting +away beneath his warm rays. + +How fair and tall the slender birches looked as the bright rays gilded +their white trunks! How cool and deep the little pool which reflected +the birches and brakes which overhung its edge; and far away across the +field a great black crow flew, cawing as he winged his way, then perched +upon a slender twig which swayed beneath his weight. Tiny sparrows +twittered and chirped as they hopped about among the dried weeds, +searching among the seed vessels for a possible breakfast. + +Truly, all things were beautiful that morning; and Randy, from her +chamber window, looked out upon the lovely scene, and on her face a +smile and tear appeared,—a smile on the sweet lips in memory of the +summer’s pleasure; a tear at the thought of Helen’s departure. + +“It has been the nicest summer I have ever known,” mused Randy, softly. +“Everything has looked prettier since she taught me how to look at +things. How sweetly she thanked me for the rose I cut for her without +spilling one of the dewdrops. ’Twas only a little thing, yet she thanked +me as if the dewdrops were diamonds. Why, she just made me wild to find +something to give to every one, if giving made such pleasure. I remember +that I said I often wished I had more to give, and she showed me, oh, so +plainly, that a smile or a pleasant word was worth the giving that I +felt at once as if I were rich; for any one can say a pleasant word and +all of us can smile. Oh, she’s done us ‘a world of good,’ as the +parson’s wife said.” + +While Randy dreamed at her window, Helen stood in the doorway at Mrs. +Gray’s, and she, too, was thinking of the summer so happily spent. + +Soon she would be at home, and in a few months the winter season would +bring a round of social engagements. + +Why had the days so quietly spent seemed so charming? What was the +secret of their charm? Happy she had been,—very, very happy,—and so +swiftly had the weeks sped that it seemed impossible that October had +arrived. She had chosen to spend the summer, contrary to her usual +custom, in a little country village, with no other thought than that in +such a place she could be sure of rest and quiet. + +She was a girl of generous impulses, and after becoming acquainted with +the people of the neighborhood of the Gray homestead, many an +opportunity for a gracious word or a generous action presented itself. +How gently and with what ready tact she had made herself a friend to +young and old, was proven by the genuine regret manifested whenever her +departure was mentioned. + +Helen had a host of friends of whom to take leave, and all were charmed +and gladdened to hear that they would see her sweet face again sometime +during the winter. She had called to see old Sandy once more before her +departure, and he had had a wonderful bit of news to tell. + +The letter which he had written after his return from the apple-bee he +had posted early on the following morning. It was addressed to Miss +Margaret McLean, and Sandy explained that, as her father had been a +prominent manufacturer in the little Scottish town in which they had +lived for years, holding large business interests and owning a number of +mills which bore his name, the daughter, his only child, must be well +known there; so he had trusted that the letter, written after so many +years’ delay, might be promptly delivered. + +Strangely enough, it had never occurred to Sandy to wonder if his old +playmate were still living. To his great joy, an answer to the letter +came sooner than he had expected. She was still waiting for him, she +said, as she had ever waited, hoping that the time would come when he +would forgive her for teasing him,—it had been but a girlish freak,—and +tell her that he loved her as of old. + +Her father had lost much of his money before he died, but she had a “bit +of property,” she said, and she had sold her little cottage and would +leave on the next steamer for America. She would bring with her a little +Scotch lass, an orphan whom she had befriended and trained to be a +little maid-servant; and, insisting that Sandy should meet her and go at +once to some kirk to be married, she closed her letter with love to +Sandy and a blessing for Helen and the wee lass, Prue. To Helen’s +congratulations he would only say, “It’s your doing, lass, yours and the +bairnie’s.” + +Sandy confided to Helen that he had been afraid that Margaret might +doubt that he and the Sandy McLeod of her youth were one and the same; +but, he added: “I had a proof, I had a proof, lass! I had a lock o’ her +bonnie hair tied wi’ a knot o’ blue ribbon. I knew she’d na forget +gi’en’ it to me, and I put it in the letter.” + +“That was clever,” said Helen. + +“An’ she said she’d bring it back wi’ her when she sailed for America,” +added the old Scotchman, joyously; and Helen left him happy in the +thought that although her farewell saddened him, there soon would be a +dearer friend to greet him. + +Farmer Gray had driven to the village early that morning, and when he +returned he greeted Helen cheerily, at the same time handing her a +letter, saying, “I hope it is full of good news, Miss Dayton.” + +It proved to be a letter from her aunt, urging Helen to start at once +for home, as an uncle who had not seen her since she was a very little +girl was making a short stay in Boston, and wished very much to see his +niece before he returned to his home in a western city. + +“I am proud of you, Helen, as you know,” wrote the dear old lady, “and I +so earnestly wish Robert to see you that I wish you would start as soon +as you receive this letter.” + +Helen left for Boston early that morning, asking Mrs. Gray to tell Randy +that she would write to her as soon as she reached home. Helen’s +departure was only a day earlier than she had intended, yet she +regretted to leave in such haste. She had wished to bid Randy and dear +little Prue an affectionate good-by and reiterate her promise of a +flying visit sometime during the winter months. + +As she sat looking out of the car window and watched the little town +receding, she thought of Randy’s sweet face, and like a vision it +appeared before her with grieved eyes and quivering lips, just as she +knew the girl would look when Mrs. Gray told her of her friend’s +departure. Then a bright thought occurred to her, and a happy smile +played about her lips. + +Opening her little bag she took from it a block of paper, such as she +had used for memoranda, and with a pencil she commenced a note to Randy. +She would obtain an envelope and stamp as soon as she reached Boston. +Helen possessed a merry wit, and leaf after leaf of the little block she +filled with a breezy account of her journey. She described at length the +man with three immense leather bags, who tried in vain to walk down the +aisle with all that baggage, and was at last compelled to make three +separate trips; the old lady with a box containing a cat which mewed +dismally all the way; the woman with four children, who seemed to have +an endless supply of lunches, yet cried for more; the boy peddling prize +candy, and any number of small happenings. + +The writing served to make the long ride less tedious, and she knew that +the letter would make Randy smile through her tears. + + * * * * * + +When Randy and Prue appeared at breakfast time they were amazed to find +Aunt Prudence at the table. + +“Why, when did you come?” questioned Prue, abruptly, staring at her aunt +as if that lady had been an apparition instead of a very tangible +reality. + +“I came last night, after you children was in bed,” said Aunt Prudence, +“and I guess your father was ’bout as s’prised as you be.” + +“Wal’, I guess I was,” said Mr. Weston. “Ye was the last person I +expected to see when I stopped near the depot to talk with neighbor +Gray, but I was jest as glad to see ye as ef ye’d sent word ye was +comin’.” + +Mrs. Weston also hastened to assure her that her unexpected arrival was +a pleasant surprise, but the children could not say a word. Prue was +filled with a dread of Aunt Prudence’s sharp eyes, which would be sure +to detect any sign of plotted mischief; and Randy, knowing Prue’s +intense dislike of supervision, realized that careful watching, +amounting almost to strategy, would be necessary to keep the little girl +from vexing Aunt Prudence, thereby actually showing her how intensely +she disliked her. + +Although the morning hours were fully occupied, Randy was aware of a +subtle sense of change in Aunt Prudence. She looked as angular and +austere as before, but her voice seemed less shrill, and her sharp eyes +behind her glasses looked out with a softened light. + +“Perhaps we didn’t really know her before,” said Randy to Prue. + +“P’r’aps maybe we didn’t,” answered Prue. “She calls me Prudence same’s +she did before, but she says it diffe’nt.” + +“That’s it,” said Randy, “her voice is pleasanter.” + +“And her eyes isn’t always looking at me, so I don’t darest to move,” +said Prue. + +Randy turned away quickly, that Prue need not see her laughing. The idea +that any one could prevent her little sister from indulging in almost +perpetual motion, seemed utterly funny to her. + +Half an hour later Randy chanced to hear Prue talking to Tabby, just +under the kitchen window. + +“Now, Tabby,” she was saying, “if you lie real still while I drag you +’round, you’ll get a lovely ride and nobody’ll ever know it; but if you +squirm and act naughty, I’ll put the basket right back in Aunt +Prudence’s room, and I won’t give you any ride at all.” + +Randy waited to hear no more, for upon looking out over the wide +window-sill she espied naughty little Prue dragging Miss Prudence’s best +cap basket around the dooryard. She had made Tabby lie in the basket, +then pressing down the cover she had fastened the little straw loop and +thus locked Tabby into a very close carriage. Out rushed Randy, to +rescue Tabby and the pretty basket at the same time. + +“What makes you think to do such naughty things, Prue Weston?” said +indignant Randy; “don’t you know you’re plaguing Tabby and Aunt Prudence +at the same time?” + +“Tabby likes to ride,” asserted Prue, “and I don’t care if I do plague—” +but the mischievous little elf did not finish the sentence, for on +looking up, there stood Aunt Prudence in the doorway. + +Randy’s face was suffused with hot blushes, and Prue, naughty little +Prue, looked completely abashed. + +Aunt Prudence was the first to speak. “Bring my basket to me,” said she, +abruptly, but not unkindly. + +Slowly Prue unfastened the cover of the pretty, round cap basket, and +with even more moderation Tabby stepped out, stopping to yawn and +stretch while her hind legs were still in the basket. + +Prue stooped and energetically lifted her out upon the ground. Randy +watched Aunt Prudence while Prue walked very slowly toward her, the +forefinger of her left hand in her mouth, while with the right hand she +reluctantly handed the basket to its owner. + +Did Aunt Prudence smile? Randy thought she espied a twinkle in the sharp +eyes behind the glasses. + +“Now,” said Aunt Prudence, “s’pose you come into my room while I show +you something worth looking at.” + +Into the house, slowly following Aunt Prudence, went Prue and Randy, +filled with mingled curiosity and dread of the thing which they were +soon to see. + +Aunt Prudence bent over her little hair-covered trunk, lifting aside +this parcel and that until, oh, could it be true, a cunning little +wooden cradle, painted bright red, made Prue utter a shrill cry of +delight. + +“Oh! oh! is it for me?” cried Prue. “Oh, I am so sorry I was naughty!” + +Aunt Prudence put the cradle into Prue’s chubby hands, who at once held +it up for Randy to admire. + +“It’s a beauty,” said Randy. “Oh, Prue, you’d ought to be good now.” + +“I will,” said Prue; then, turning to Aunt Prudence, she said, “I guess +I almost love you now, and I won’t ever plague you.” + +“Well, I guess my basket ain’t hurt much this time; but don’t borry it +again, child. I guess the cradle will ’bout fit Tabby.” + +“Oh, I do b’lieve it will! I’ll go and ‘medjure’ her in it,” said Prue, +and away she scampered in search of her kitty. + +Left alone with her aunt, Randy hesitated a moment, then venturing a +step nearer, she said, “I think you were very good to give the pretty +cradle to Prue just when she’d been so naughty; but,” added Randy, as +usual anxious to shield her little sister, “she isn’t always naughty, +and now I’m ’most sure she’ll try to please you.” She looked up +wistfully, hoping for a kindly word for Prue whom she loved so dearly. + +“Children will be children,” said Aunt Prudence, with a grim smile. “I +guess she’s no wuss’n the average.” + +“Father says you never had days of being naughty when you were a little +girl, so I should think Prue’d seem extra naughty to you,” said Randy, +slowly moving the toe of her shoe back and forth along the cracks in the +floor. As she glanced shyly at her aunt, hoping for one more consoling +word in regard to Prue, she was much surprised and relieved to see Aunt +Prudence actually smiling. + +“I guess your father’s forgot about the time I threw his hat down the +well to see if it would float.” + +“Did _you_ do that?” asked Randy, in surprise. + +“Yes,” said Aunt Prudence, “and what’s more, I did it on purpose to +plague him. He was goin’ fishin’, and I wanted to go, too. He said girls +wus no good at fishin’ and went to the shed to get his rod and line, +whistlin’ in a way that provoked me. His hat was on the grass near where +I was standing, and, quick as a flash, I snatched it up and threw it +down the well, thinkin’ it would delay his fishin’ trip for one while. +It didn’t, though. He went bare-headed; and soon’s ’twas found out what +I’d done, I got punished for spoilin’ his hat. Yes, your father +remembers my good days, an’ it’s just like him to forget that I ever had +naughty ones. But, Randy,” she said abruptly, “ye don’t ask if I brought +anything in my trunk for you.” + +“Why, I never thought of it,” said Randy. + +“Like enough,” said Aunt Prudence; “it seems to me ye nearly always +think of somebody besides yourself, Randy. I must say, I approve of ye. +Yer father, every time he writes me, has something ter tell of you +children; and now you jest help me unpack my trunk, an’ I’ll show ye +something that, ef I ain’t mistaken, will please ye mightily.” + +“Indeed, I’ll help you. I’ll like to,” said Randy, and soon the contents +of the trunk were spread upon the bed. Those garments which could be +hung up were placed upon hooks in the closet, and other articles were +neatly folded in the bureau drawers. One puffy-looking package remained; +this Aunt Prudence placed in Randy’s hands, saying, “There, Randy, +there’s the material for making some Christmas presents; and if it makes +ye happy, I’ll be glad of it.” + +Very eagerly Randy untied the parcel, and uttered a little cry of +delight when the open wrapping disclosed some beautiful colored worsteds +of various hues. + +“I’ll teach ye ter knit while I’m here,” said Aunt Prudence. “And now +the evenings are beginning to be cool, ye might begin ter make a pretty +little shawl for yer mother out of that deep red worsted; I guess +there’s enough of it. That blue yarn will make some mittens for little +Prudence, and the rest of it ye can do what ye like with.” + +Randy’s delight knew no bounds, and she could hardly wait to hunt for +needles and have her first lesson in knitting. + +That night, in their little chamber under the eaves, the children talked +of Aunt Prudence. + +“I always said Aunt Prudence might be nice, if we really knew her,” said +Randy. + +“Yes,” said Prue, “you said that when she was here before, I ’member it; +but, Randy,” she added, “that was when I was a little girl.” + +Randy stifled a laugh, “Why, Prue, what are you now?” said she. + +“Now, Randy, you do know you medjured me last Saturday, and you said I’d +growed most a inch.” + +“Well, so you have,” said Randy, gently, “and it’s likely you’ll grow a +lot more this winter.” + +“Course I will,” said Prue, “and, oh, Randy, mustn’t Aunt Prudence have +growed awful fast when she was a little girl? Just think how big she is +now! She’s growed good awful fast, too, Randy,” she continued, “for she +wouldn’t have gived me that little cradle for anything the last time she +was here, would she, Randy?” + +Randy ignored this question. + +“We ought to be going to sleep, Prue,” she said; “but I’ll tell you +something first: I mean to be just as nice to Aunt Prudence as I can, +while she stays here.” + +“So do I,” said little Prue. “I told her to-day when her needle plagued +her, I told her I’d fred all her needles when she was sewing, and you’d +never guess what she said, Randy. She said I was a good little girl,—she +did, truly.” + +The patter of raindrops on the roof soon lulled the children to sleep, +and in their dreams Aunt Prudence figured as the Goddess of Plenty, +distributing gifts with lavish hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XII—A WEDDING FEAST + + +Sunday morning Randy and Prue were early at church, and as they leaned +back against the pew, in expectation of one of Parson Spooner’s long +sermons, Randy put her hand in her pocket and lovingly caressed a square +envelope which she had placed there before starting for church. + +“Got any candy in your pocket, Randy?” eagerly questioned Prue, as she +leaned toward her sister. Randy shook her head. + +“Didn’t Jotham give you some when he speaked to you at the door?” she +asked in such a loud whisper that Randy ejaculated “sh-sh,” and again +shook her head. + +“Then what’s in your pocket?” persisted Prue. + +Randy drew Helen’s precious letter from her pocket, showing just enough +of the envelope to satisfy Prue’s curiosity. Then the little girl took a +hymn book from the rack, and with her wee forefinger commenced to point +out, and at the same time name those letters which she knew. She found +every O upon the page, then every S, and Randy thought best to let her +thus amuse herself as, at least, she was quiet—a most unusual thing. + +Helen had mailed the letter at once upon reaching Boston, and Mr. Weston +had brought it from the village on the following day and placed it in +Randy’s hand as she sat listening to Mrs. Gray, who had called to +deliver Helen’s message. + +“A letter for me, father?” questioned Randy in surprise. “Why, who’s it +from?” + +Mr. Weston laughed. “Shouldn’t wonder if ye had to open it to find out, +Randy,” said he. + +Randy opened it and laughed with delight when she found it was from +Helen. She had read it three times and had taken it to church with her, +because she said she “just couldn’t leave it at home.” + +So Sunday morning Randy kept her mind upon the sermon, and her hand upon +the letter. The sermon had been less lengthy than usual, and when the +good old pastor had closed the Bible, he removed his spectacles; and as +he slowly wiped them, he said: “Dear friends, I have a notice to give +to-day, or perhaps I should say an invitation, and there could be no +better time or place for what I have to say. + +“A quiet wedding ceremony took place at a little church in New York +City, the contracting parties being our friend and neighbor, Mr. Sandy +McLeod,—or, as the papers have it, Alexander McLeod,—and Miss Margaret +McLean of Scotland, an old playmate and friend, from whom our friend has +been separated many years. I have received a delightful letter from him +in which I am asked to make this announcement, and to say that they will +be at home on Wednesday evening. They extend an invitation to all the +good people of this town to be present, and an especially urgent request +that all the children be there.” + +What a stir that announcement made! What a great event! + +Sandy’s farm was one of the finest in the neighborhood, and his house +the largest and most substantial in the place; but Helen and Parson +Spooner were the only people who had ever entered it, save Sandy himself +and the men who worked for him. + +Fabulous tales the men had told of the fine things which the house +contained; so curiosity was rife regarding it, and now every one, even +the little ones of the parish, were bidden welcome. + +After church Randy stopped a moment to speak to the Babson girls and +Phœbe Small, to tell them of the letter from Helen, promising to read it +to them if they would call on Monday afternoon. + +The girls promised, saying, “You can read us the letter, and then we’ll +talk over the party, or whatever it is to be, at Sandy McLeod’s.” + +Promptly, on Monday afternoon, the girls arrived, and the letter was +produced and read. How they laughed at Helen’s bright description of the +events of her homeward journey. Phœbe Small felt that in receiving the +letter Randy had been especially favored. A little twinge of jealousy +caused her to part her lips to make a sharp little speech; but, +remembering a promise to Helen, and her own resolution, she said +pleasantly, “You must have been pleased to receive it, Randy; I’m glad +she wrote it to you.” + +It was so unlike her usual remarks that the Babson girls looked at each +other; but Randy slipped her arm around Phœbe as they stood by the +window, and Phœbe felt rewarded. + +They talked earnestly over the event of Wednesday evening, and all were +enthusiastically expectant. + +As the afternoon waned, the girls took leave of Randy, looking back as +they went down the road to call to her, “We’ll see you Wednesday night.” + +Wednesday proved to be a lovely day, and the evening sky was bright with +stars, the air cold and crisp when the merry party drove up to Sandy’s +door. As no one wished to be the first to arrive, a large party met at +Mrs. Weston’s house and together they drove to the McLeod farm. + +The large house was ablaze with lights, and as the teams stopped, the +door was opened wide and a cheery voice shouted, “It’s glad we are to +see ye, friends, come in, come in,” and Sandy led the way proudly to a +silver-haired little woman, who stood waiting to greet her husband’s +friends and neighbors. + +Such a sweet-faced little woman, who had a gentle, gracious word for +every new friend, and a kiss for each one of the children. + +When Sandy brought Prue to her, saying, “This is the little lass, +Margaret, wha said ‘write the letter,’” she took the child upon her lap +and put her arms about her, saying, “Bless the bairn, will ye come +sometimes to see me? it wad gae me much pleasure.” + +“Oh, yes, I will come,” answered Prue, “if I may bring Randy. She’s my +big sister, and there’s no one like her anywhere.” + +Prue was assured that Randy would be more than welcome. Every one was +charmed with the gentle little Scotch woman, who seemed equally pleased +with her new friends. + +They sometimes found it a bit difficult to understand her. Sandy had +been so long in America, and had tried so earnestly to be like his +neighbors, that he expressed himself in very good English, with here and +there a bit of his old dialect appearing. His wife, however, had lived +in a little town some miles distant from the city, and used many words +which, while in common use in the Scottish village, were utterly unknown +to her new friends. But her manner could not be misunderstood. It was +unmistakably the manner of a gentle, lovely character, bearing good-will +to all. + +[Illustration: “At the Head of a Long Table stood Helen Dayton”] + +The hum of conversation rose to a din as the young people laughed and +chatted. All had been admiring the furnishings, which were indeed +charming. There were some quaint old chairs which had belonged to +Sandy’s father; a large family portrait hung on the wall above the +fireplace; some beautiful old candlesticks in which bright tapers +burned; and the evident delight of their guests charmed Sandy and his +dear old wife. + +“Now, friends,” said Sandy, stepping forward, “ye ha’ all seen my +Margaret, noo will ye walk this way and I’ll gie ye another surprise,” +and he led the way to the end of the parlor, where he opened a door, and +there at the head of a long table, spread with a feast such as no one in +the village had ever seen, stood Helen Dayton. + +With a sharp cry of delight Randy ran to greet her, and was folded in +Helen’s arms. Then every one crowded about Miss Dayton, and many were +the questions with which she was plied. + +“I cannot answer all these questions,” she said with a merry laugh; “but +I’ll tell you how I happened to be here again so soon. I hastened home, +as many of you know, to see my Uncle Robert, who was to be in Boston but +a few days, and on the day of his departure for the West I received the +glad news of the wedding in a most delightful letter, which also +contained a cordial invitation for me to be present and surprise you all +to-night.” + +“We’re glad enough to see you again,” said Jotham Potts, and a chorus of +voices echoed the boy’s frank speech. + +Then the feast began. Such a treat it was to Sandy’s neighbors and +friends. The children were fairly wild with excitement. A giant wedding +cake graced the centre of the table, and the beautiful frosting, with +its garlands of flowers and little sugar cupids, delighted the children, +who thought it the finest thing which they had ever seen. + +A huge platter of roast turkey on one end of the table, and one of roast +goose on the other, proved very tempting; and a chicken pie with its +fluted crust was not to be ignored. + +When these were removed, Sandy filled their places with huge fancy +baskets of fruit; and still the candles burned and flickered, and the +hum of merry voices filled the old house with gladness. At a late hour +the happy party left, the neighbors, one and all, wishing the dear old +couple every blessing, and promising to be as neighborly as their busy +lives would permit. + +To Randy, Helen said: “I shall not run away this time without saying +good-by. I will come to-morrow and spend a little time with you, and +then you may go with me to the village, where I must take the train for +home.” + +Bright and early on the following day, Randy was up, singing as she +moved about the kitchen, as usual, trying to help. + +“She’s coming to-day, she’s coming to-day,” sang Prue, as she skipped +about the room, and Randy’s heart joined gladly in the song. + +At that very moment Helen was coming up the walk, and as she tapped +lightly at the door, Prue ran to let her in. + +How bright she looked in her cloth gown and trim jacket, her feather +collar and bewitching hat. She took off her wraps, as Mrs. Weston +suggested, and sat down to chat with Randy. + +“What is the news?” said Helen. “What has happened during my absence, +Randy?” + +“Very little has happened,” said Randy, “only a few things. School is to +open next week; that’s a week earlier than last year, and Mr. Lawton +says he’ll keep his best room warm enough for us if it takes his whole +woodpile.” + +“And I’m going to school,” said Prue, and she looked at Helen as if she +expected to see that young lady stunned by such an announcement. + +“I’m going to study reading and rifm-tic,” she added, hoping to produce +even more of an impression. + +Helen and Randy laughed, “I hope they will reserve ‘rifm-tic,’” said +Helen, “until a little later.” + +“When there is snow,” said Randy, “we can coast on our sled down to Mr. +Lawton’s house, without stopping; and although I’m pretty tall this +winter, I think I shall coast just as I did last season, only this year +Prue will sit behind me.” + +“And Jotham ’most always drags her home, so she don’t have to walk ’t +all,” said Prue, anxious to tell all the particulars. + +“Randy is fortunate to have such an accommodating friend,” said Helen, +“and now I have something to tell you. I have been helping my aunt to +make some plans for the winter, and I have really found three days at +the Christmas holidays for which I have made no engagements, and, if it +will please you, Randy, I will give those days to you.” + +Mrs. Weston paused in her work to say, “We shall all be pleased to have +you with us, and Randy will be wild until you come.” + +Helen had taken leave of Sandy and his wife at their home, so when +Randy’s father brought the old horse and wagon to the door, she said +good-by to Mrs. Weston and little Prue, and with Randy and her father +rode to the depot at the centre. + +They arrived just a few moments before the train was due, and Helen and +Randy walked up and down the platform, talking earnestly over the +promised visit and the winter schooldays so soon to commence. + +“I shall think of you every day,” said Randy, “and I mean to study so +hard this winter that some day, when I write, I shall be able to tell +you that I am at the head of my class.” + +“That is right,” said Helen; “ambition and hard work will accomplish +wonders.” + +Just then the whistle sounded, and soon the train came around the curve +and stopped at the little station. + +Very gently Helen kissed Randy, saying, “Remember I shall soon be here +again.” + +Then the train started, and through her tears Randy saw Helen’s +beautiful, smiling face at the window. When the last car was out of +sight, Randy turned toward her father a face which was a combination of +smiles and tears. + +“Well, Randy,” said he, “which is it, laughing or crying?” + +“Both,” said Randy, “crying because I am sorry to have her go, and +smiling because I know just when she will come again. And, now, father, +I am going to tell you something. I mean to be the best scholar in +school this year. I’d like to be able to talk and write as well as Miss +Dayton does. I don’t suppose I could do that, but I will come as near as +I can,” and Randy looked to her father for his approval. + +“That’s right, Randy, that’s right,” said her father, heartily, “and +now, I’ll tell _you_ something. Sandy McLeod says that if Nathan Lawton +gives the use of his best room for a schoolroom to the children, he +isn’t going to have Nathan outdo him, so he’s offered a prize of a +five-dollar gold piece to be given to the best scholar at the school +this winter. I am glad that you spoke your mind before you knew about +the prize. I’m willing you should try for it, but I’m glad to know that +you intended to study before you had any idea of a prize to be won.” + +“I’ll make myself a good scholar,” said Randy, “and I’ll get the prize, +too.” Randy never forgot that morning. + +Years after, the scene, in all its completeness, would rise before her +with a perfection of detail that would for a moment startle her; the old +mare leisurely crawling up the road toward home; the stone walls along +the sides of the road, still covered with blackberry vines, their +foliage russet-colored against the cold gray stones, and their thorny +stems red in the October sunshine. + +Across the roads the fields were dry and dun-colored, but in places the +grass was still green, and over all the bright blue sky with its +floating clouds. Birds twittered in the tree-tops or flew in swirling +lines above the sunny fields, and everywhere, although the trees were +bare and the flowers gone, a feeling of gladness and cheer seemed +present. + +Randy turned to speak to her father and found that he was looking +curiously at her. “Oh, father,” said she, “I was just thinking that it +seems as if everything was glad for some reason this morning. I don’t +know how to tell you just how I feel, but the sky seems so bright, the +birds are singing, and when I looked at you I thought that you looked +glad too.” + +“Well, Randy, I see just what you mean. It is bright and glad and sunny +to-day, and as to my looking glad, I think I ought to. I’ve got your +mother, and Prue, and you, Randy, and I’ve got something more to be +thankful for—something to be thankful to _you_ for.” + +“Thankful to _me_!” gasped Randy, in amazement. + +“Yes, Randy, yes. I got a letter last night. Ye know I went down to the +centre after supper, and I didn’t get home ’til after you and Prue was +in bed. Well, I wasn’t expecting to hear from anybody, special, and I +never opened the letter ’til I’d put the cat out and fastened up. Then I +thought of the letter and sat down at the table to read it. Yer mother +was puttin’ the last stitches into a stockin’ she was mendin’ when I +came to a place in the letter that made me hop. Mother came, and looking +over my shoulder read the line I put my finger on. + +“Randy, do ye remember that day last summer when ye listened at the +roadside to what Jason Meade was sayin’ ’bout makin’ me sell my pasture +land to him? Do yer rec’lect how ye run ’til ye was ’bout beat out to +reach me ’fore he could, and how ye begged me not to sell?” + +“Why, yes,” said Randy; then in sudden fear, “he didn’t make you, did +he, father?” + +The girl’s wide open eyes looked anxiously up into his face as she +grasped his arm and waited for an answer. + +“Make me! Well, I guess not! Randy, that letter was from the big +railroad company, and, val’ble as I thought the land would be, they’ve +offered me more’n I ever dreamed of. I shan’t be what city folks would +call wealthy, but I’ll be ’stonishin’ well off. Your mother and I will +be able to take things a little easier; and, Randy, you shall have all +the schoolin’ ye want, and so shall little Prue. I’d ’bout made up my +mind to let Meade have that land, he seemed to have set his mind on it; +and I b’lieve I should have let him have it, ef you had gone on ter Mis’ +Gray’s and stopped to tea with Miss Dayton, as you intended. But for you +my land would have been in Jason Meade’s hands, and I might ’a’ whistled +fer it. You gave up your pleasure to do the right thing at the right +time; as I said that day, I’ve got a daughter to be thankful for.” + +“Oh, father,” said Randy, “it seemed a little thing to do, but I was so +anxious to reach you in time that I forgot everything else, even Miss +Dayton and the tea at Mrs. Gray’s.” + +“Well, ye did yer duty, Randy, even when ye feared the men would find ye +listening and be angry. Always be brave to do right, as ye did that +time, and ye’ll make a fine woman.” + +Small wonder that Randy remembered that morning’s ride! The bright +sunlight of her father’s commendation seemed to outshine nature’s +sunshine. The thought that she had been instrumental in bringing good +fortune to her parents, who had toiled early and late, filled Randy’s +heart with a gladness which she would have found difficult to describe. + +Mr. Weston accepted the company’s offer for his land, and with their +good fortune he and his wife seemed to have regained a bit of their +youth; and they were never happier than when making plans for Randy and +Prue or lending a helping hand to some friend or neighbor less fortunate +than themselves. + +Randy still indulges in day-dreams which, at present, are filled with +anticipations of schooldays so near at hand, and the winter’s pleasures +which the boys and girls of the village are already planning; and when +next we meet Randy and Prue, it will be in “Randy’s Winter.” + + + + +AMERICAN GIRLS’ SERIES + +_Standard Copyright Books for Girls by American Authors_ + +Thirty-five titles Each complete in itself. + +Uniform cloth binding + +New cover design + +Price per volume $1.00 + + 1. 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Going on a Mission By Paul Cobden + 11. Handsome is that Handsome does By Mrs. M. E. Bradley + 12. How Eva Roberts gained her Education By Louise C. Thurston + 13. Little Maid of Oxbow By May Mannering + 14. Little Blossom’s Reward By Emily Hare + 15. Thousand a Year By Mrs. M. E. Bruce + 16. May Coverly, A Story for Girls + 17. Minnie or the Little Woman + 18. Nettie’s Trial By Mrs. S. B. C. Samuels + 19. One Good Turn deserves Another By Kate J. Neely + 20. Pinks and Blues or the Orphan Asylum By Mrs. Rosa Abbott Parker + 21. Shipwrecked Girl or Adele By Mrs. S. B. C. Samuels + 22. Take a Peep By Paul Cobden + 23. Upside Down or Will and Work By Rosa Abbott Parker + 24. Violet, a Fairy Story + 25. Wrong Confessed is Half Redressed By Mrs. M. E. Bradley + + + + +Betty Seldon, Patriot + +_A Revolutionary Tale for Girls_ + +By ADELE E. THOMPSON, Author of “Beck’s Fortune.” + +Illustrated by Lilian Crawford True. + +12mo. Cloth. 300 pages. $1.25 + +It is a great deal to say of a book that it is at the same time +fascinating and noble. This is what “Betty Seldon, Patriot” is, and in +fact no one of the many who read and admired “Beck’s Fortune” would +expect a book by Miss Thompson to be otherwise. Betty is a bright +Connecticut girl, happily as industrious and filial as she is +attractive. Her devotion to her father, a captain in the Continental +army, and her experience with a Tory uncle, who appears upon the +supposed death of her father and takes her to his home in Pennsylvania, +pretending to be her guardian, form the basis of the book. Historical +events are accurately traced leading up to the surrender of Cornwallis +at Yorktown, with reunion and happiness for all who deserve it. Betty is +worth a thousand of the fickle coquette heroines of some latter-day +popular novels, and the historical setting of the story is strong and +effective. + +LEE AND SHEPARD, Publishers, + +BOSTON + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Randy's Summer, by Amy Brooks + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RANDY'S SUMMER *** + +***** This file should be named 36429-0.txt or 36429-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/4/2/36429/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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