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 cla.s.s."

"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 th.o.r.n.y stems red in the October sunshine.

Across the roads the fields were dry and dun-colored, but in places the gra.s.s 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 st.i.tches 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 antic.i.p.ations 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."