"Wal, I guess she will,—I'll take a leetle more tea," replied Jabez.
"And one of the best girls I ever knew," said his wife.
"I've always known ye set a store by Randy,—I'm ready fer pie naow," replied Jabez, and when he had finished his dinner, he darted out of the house as if in another moment the farm would have been ruined had it not received his immediate attention.
Every one who met Randy stopped her saying, "Got a letter from Boston, didn't ye?" until Prue who was usually with her would say,
"Why, Randy, how does everybody know you got a letter?"
"In the same way that everyone knows everything in this village," Randy would answer with a laugh.
In the midst of all this excitement Randy walked as if on air. Could it be true, really true that she, Randy Weston, was actually going to Boston?
The letter which had filled Randy's heart with delight had come from her friend Helen Dayton, the lovely young girl who had spent one summer as a guest of Mrs. Gray, a near neighbor of the Weston's.
She had made a flying trip to the village at Christmas, bringing with her the choicest of gifts for Randy and Prue, assuring Randy that they should soon meet again. Randy had thought much of the promise, but never dreamed of so delightful a fulfilment.
Near Miss Dayton's home a fine private school had been opened, which offered every advantage for girls of Randy's age. One of Helen's friends had been chosen for one of its teachers, and it had occurred to her that Randy might attend this school during the winter months, making her home with herself and her aunt.