Mr. Weston laughed. “Shouldn’t wonder if ye had to open it to find out, Randy,” said he.
Randy opened it and laughed with delight when she found it was from Helen. She had read it three times and had taken it to church with her, because she said she “just couldn’t leave it at home.”
So Sunday morning Randy kept her mind upon the sermon, and her hand upon the letter. The sermon had been less lengthy than usual, and when the good old pastor had closed the Bible, he removed his spectacles; and as he slowly wiped them, he said: “Dear friends, I have a notice to give to-day, or perhaps I should say an invitation, and there could be no better time or place for what I have to say.
“A quiet wedding ceremony took place at a little church in New York City, the contracting parties being our friend and neighbor, Mr. Sandy McLeod,—or, as the papers have it, Alexander McLeod,—and Miss Margaret McLean of Scotland, an old playmate and friend, from whom our friend has been separated many years. I have received a delightful letter from him in which I am asked to make this announcement, and to say that they will be at home on Wednesday evening. They extend an invitation to all the good people of this town to be present, and an especially urgent request that all the children be there.”
What a stir that announcement made! What a great event!
Sandy’s farm was one of the finest in the neighborhood, and his house the largest and most substantial in the place; but Helen and Parson Spooner were the only people who had ever entered it, save Sandy himself and the men who worked for him.
Fabulous tales the men had told of the fine things which the house contained; so curiosity was rife regarding it, and now every one, even the little ones of the parish, were bidden welcome.
After church Randy stopped a moment to speak to the Babson girls and Phœbe Small, to tell them of the letter from Helen, promising to read it to them if they would call on Monday afternoon.
The girls promised, saying, “You can read us the letter, and then we’ll talk over the party, or whatever it is to be, at Sandy McLeod’s.”
Promptly, on Monday afternoon, the girls arrived, and the letter was produced and read. How they laughed at Helen’s bright description of the events of her homeward journey. Phœbe Small felt that in receiving the letter Randy had been especially favored. A little twinge of jealousy caused her to part her lips to make a sharp little speech; but, remembering a promise to Helen, and her own resolution, she said pleasantly, “You must have been pleased to receive it, Randy; I’m glad she wrote it to you.”