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.