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 gla.s.s. The parson's mirror had a gilt frame and a gorgeous landscape above the gla.s.s, 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 ent.i.tled "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 e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "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 sparrowgra.s.s 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 ap.r.o.n. "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 Sat.u.r.day; 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 a.s.sure 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."