Randy's Summer Part 18

It proved to be a letter from her aunt, urging Helen to start at once for home, as an uncle who had not seen her since she was a very little girl was making a short stay in Boston, and wished very much to see his niece before he returned to his home in a western city.

"I am proud of you, Helen, as you know," wrote the dear old lady, "and I so earnestly wish Robert to see you that I wish you would start as soon as you receive this letter."

Helen left for Boston early that morning, asking Mrs. Gray to tell Randy that she would write to her as soon as she reached home. Helen's departure was only a day earlier than she had intended, yet she regretted to leave in such haste. She had wished to bid Randy and dear little Prue an affectionate good-by and reiterate her promise of a flying visit sometime during the winter months.

As she sat looking out of the car window and watched the little town receding, she thought of Randy's sweet face, and like a vision it appeared before her with grieved eyes and quivering lips, just as she knew the girl would look when Mrs. Gray told her of her friend's departure. Then a bright thought occurred to her, and a happy smile played about her lips.

Opening her little bag she took from it a block of paper, such as she had used for memoranda, and with a pencil she commenced a note to Randy.

She would obtain an envelope and stamp as soon as she reached Boston.

Helen possessed a merry wit, and leaf after leaf of the little block she filled with a breezy account of her journey. She described at length the man with three immense leather bags, who tried in vain to walk down the aisle with all that baggage, and was at last compelled to make three separate trips; the old lady with a box containing a cat which mewed dismally all the way; the woman with four children, who seemed to have an endless supply of lunches, yet cried for more; the boy peddling prize candy, and any number of small happenings.

The writing served to make the long ride less tedious, and she knew that the letter would make Randy smile through her tears.

When Randy and Prue appeared at breakfast time they were amazed to find Aunt Prudence at the table.

"Why, when did you come?" questioned Prue, abruptly, staring at her aunt as if that lady had been an apparition instead of a very tangible reality.

"I came last night, after you children was in bed," said Aunt Prudence, "and I guess your father was 'bout as s'prised as you be."

"Wal', I guess I was," said Mr. Weston. "Ye was the last person I expected to see when I stopped near the depot to talk with neighbor Gray, but I was jest as glad to see ye as ef ye'd sent word ye was comin'."

Mrs. Weston also hastened to a.s.sure her that her unexpected arrival was a pleasant surprise, but the children could not say a word. Prue was filled with a dread of Aunt Prudence's sharp eyes, which would be sure to detect any sign of plotted mischief; and Randy, knowing Prue's intense dislike of supervision, realized that careful watching, amounting almost to strategy, would be necessary to keep the little girl from vexing Aunt Prudence, thereby actually showing her how intensely she disliked her.

Although the morning hours were fully occupied, Randy was aware of a subtle sense of change in Aunt Prudence. She looked as angular and austere as before, but her voice seemed less shrill, and her sharp eyes behind her gla.s.ses looked out with a softened light.

"Perhaps we didn't really know her before," said Randy to Prue.

"P'r'aps maybe we didn't," answered Prue. "She calls me Prudence same's she did before, but she says it diffe'nt."

"That's it," said Randy, "her voice is pleasanter."

"And her eyes isn't always looking at me, so I don't darest to move,"

said Prue.

Randy turned away quickly, that Prue need not see her laughing. The idea that any one could prevent her little sister from indulging in almost perpetual motion, seemed utterly funny to her.

Half an hour later Randy chanced to hear Prue talking to Tabby, just under the kitchen window.

"Now, Tabby," she was saying, "if you lie real still while I drag you 'round, you'll get a lovely ride and n.o.body'll ever know it; but if you squirm and act naughty, I'll put the basket right back in Aunt Prudence's room, and I won't give you any ride at all."

Randy waited to hear no more, for upon looking out over the wide window-sill she espied naughty little Prue dragging Miss Prudence's best cap basket around the dooryard. She had made Tabby lie in the basket, then pressing down the cover she had fastened the little straw loop and thus locked Tabby into a very close carriage. Out rushed Randy, to rescue Tabby and the pretty basket at the same time.

"What makes you think to do such naughty things, Prue Weston?" said indignant Randy; "don't you know you're plaguing Tabby and Aunt Prudence at the same time?"

"Tabby likes to ride," a.s.serted Prue, "and I don't care if I do plague-"

but the mischievous little elf did not finish the sentence, for on looking up, there stood Aunt Prudence in the doorway.

Randy's face was suffused with hot blushes, and Prue, naughty little Prue, looked completely abashed.

Aunt Prudence was the first to speak. "Bring my basket to me," said she, abruptly, but not unkindly.

Slowly Prue unfastened the cover of the pretty, round cap basket, and with even more moderation Tabby stepped out, stopping to yawn and stretch while her hind legs were still in the basket.

Prue stooped and energetically lifted her out upon the ground. Randy watched Aunt Prudence while Prue walked very slowly toward her, the forefinger of her left hand in her mouth, while with the right hand she reluctantly handed the basket to its owner.

Did Aunt Prudence smile? Randy thought she espied a twinkle in the sharp eyes behind the gla.s.ses.

"Now," said Aunt Prudence, "s'pose you come into my room while I show you something worth looking at."

Into the house, slowly following Aunt Prudence, went Prue and Randy, filled with mingled curiosity and dread of the thing which they were soon to see.

Aunt Prudence bent over her little hair-covered trunk, lifting aside this parcel and that until, oh, could it be true, a cunning little wooden cradle, painted bright red, made Prue utter a shrill cry of delight.

"Oh! oh! is it for me?" cried Prue. "Oh, I am so sorry I was naughty!"

Aunt Prudence put the cradle into Prue's chubby hands, who at once held it up for Randy to admire.

"It's a beauty," said Randy. "Oh, Prue, you'd ought to be good now."

"I will," said Prue; then, turning to Aunt Prudence, she said, "I guess I almost love you now, and I won't ever plague you."

"Well, I guess my basket ain't hurt much this time; but don't borry it again, child. I guess the cradle will 'bout fit Tabby."

"Oh, I do b'lieve it will! I'll go and 'medjure' her in it," said Prue, and away she scampered in search of her kitty.

Left alone with her aunt, Randy hesitated a moment, then venturing a step nearer, she said, "I think you were very good to give the pretty cradle to Prue just when she'd been so naughty; but," added Randy, as usual anxious to s.h.i.+eld her little sister, "she isn't always naughty, and now I'm 'most sure she'll try to please you." She looked up wistfully, hoping for a kindly word for Prue whom she loved so dearly.

"Children will be children," said Aunt Prudence, with a grim smile. "I guess she's no wuss'n the average."

"Father says you never had days of being naughty when you were a little girl, so I should think Prue'd seem extra naughty to you," said Randy, slowly moving the toe of her shoe back and forth along the cracks in the floor. As she glanced shyly at her aunt, hoping for one more consoling word in regard to Prue, she was much surprised and relieved to see Aunt Prudence actually smiling.

"I guess your father's forgot about the time I threw his hat down the well to see if it would float."

"Did _you_ do that?" asked Randy, in surprise.

"Yes," said Aunt Prudence, "and what's more, I did it on purpose to plague him. He was goin' fis.h.i.+n', and I wanted to go, too. He said girls wus no good at fis.h.i.+n' and went to the shed to get his rod and line, whistlin' in a way that provoked me. His hat was on the gra.s.s near where I was standing, and, quick as a flash, I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up and threw it down the well, thinkin' it would delay his fis.h.i.+n' trip for one while.

It didn't, though. He went bare-headed; and soon's 'twas found out what I'd done, I got punished for spoilin' his hat. Yes, your father remembers my good days, an' it's just like him to forget that I ever had naughty ones. But, Randy," she said abruptly, "ye don't ask if I brought anything in my trunk for you."

"Why, I never thought of it," said Randy.

"Like enough," said Aunt Prudence; "it seems to me ye nearly always think of somebody besides yourself, Randy. I must say, I approve of ye.

Yer father, every time he writes me, has something ter tell of you children; and now you jest help me unpack my trunk, an' I'll show ye something that, ef I ain't mistaken, will please ye mightily."

"Indeed, I'll help you. I'll like to," said Randy, and soon the contents of the trunk were spread upon the bed. Those garments which could be hung up were placed upon hooks in the closet, and other articles were neatly folded in the bureau drawers. One puffy-looking package remained; this Aunt Prudence placed in Randy's hands, saying, "There, Randy, there's the material for making some Christmas presents; and if it makes ye happy, I'll be glad of it."

Very eagerly Randy untied the parcel, and uttered a little cry of delight when the open wrapping disclosed some beautiful colored worsteds of various hues.