“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.