Randy and Her Friends Part 12

"But she's in Boston, ain't she?" asked Hi.

"Yes, and I _want_ her, I'm tired of going to school without her."

"_I'm_ tired of goin' ter school at all," said Hi. Then a peculiar light appeared in his small black eyes.

"I'll tell yer what we'll do," said he, "We'll go and _see_ Randy, you 'n me. I know the way to the deepot, Prue, Yes sir, we'll go'n see Randy. I guess she'll be glad 'nough ter see us 'n wont you be glad to see her, though?"

Little Prue's eyes grew round with delight. Since Randy was to be away from home, of course the best thing would be to go to her.

"Do you _truly_ know the way?" asked Prue, eagerly, laying her little hand upon Hi's arm.

"Guess I do. Ain't I been to the deepot times 'nough?" was the confident reply. "You jest come 'long with me, Prue, an' I tell ye we'll find your Randy. I'm bigger'n you be 'n I know."

"When will we go, Hi?" asked Prue, now confident that her little champion could take her safely to Randy.

"Now," said Hi, "right off now. I don't know my lessons, so I don't want ter go back ter school, an' teacher's a ringin' the bell this minute. Pick up yer lunch basket, I've got some cookies I hooked out 'n the cupboard an' a big apple that Belindy gave me, an' we'll eat 'em when we're in the cars." So the two children trudged down the road; Prue happier than she had been for days because of the delightful prospect of seeing Randy, and Hi, knowing that he was naughty in staying away from school, but easing his little conscience by thinking that he was comforting Prue.

It was true that he was larger than Prue, but they were of the same age, and as unlike as two children could possibly be.

Prue was lovely in face and disposition, small of her age and graceful in her movements. Hi was a plain, st.u.r.dy looking country boy; stubborn, full of mischief and large for a boy of six.

Down the road they walked, a resolute little pair; Prue chattering and laughing, Hi rather silent until well out of sight of the schoolhouse, when his spirits rose and he cheered the way by telling his little companion wonderful tales of the delights of a journey in the cars.

Having twice enjoyed a long car ride, he considered himself quite a traveled personage, and he continued to enlarge upon the pleasures of the trip to Boston until Prue's eyes danced, and she skipped along the road unable from sheer delight to walk without an occasional little hop.

"If we stay with Randy, we won't have ter go ter school," said Hi, "an'

you'n me can play all day."

"And see my Randy every day," said Prue, "and oh, Hi, you don't know how lovely she looked in her new clothes she had to go to Boston with."

"Randy looked nice in anything," said Hi, "and I'll like ter see her, but the best of it is, I ain't er goin' ter school. I hate school, anyway."

"I like school when my Randy's in it, but I don't like anything where my Randy isn't," said Prue, stoutly, "and now we're going to see her."

As she danced along, her hand tightly clasping that of her companion, she hummed merrily, and Hi accompanied her with a discordant whistle, cheerfully unaware that he was quite off the key.

"Does it take long to get to Boston?" asked Prue, abruptly.

"No, I guess not," said Hi, "but it's a little longer'n I thought to the deepot."

"Don't you know the way?" she asked when upon reaching a fork in the road Hi stopped and stared about him as if puzzled as to which to choose.

"Oh, yes, I know the way to the deepot," said Hi, "only I was a thinkin'

which was the nearest way. Last time I went there with Uncle Joshua he said, 'We'll go this way 'cause it's a short cut,' an' I guess this is it, Prue, so come along."

And away they went down the road which led directly away from the Centre.

Naughty little Hi was far from sure that they were walking in the right direction, but he knew that they were not going toward school, and that in itself was delightful, and a glance at Prue's smiling face a.s.sured him that he was making her happy, so on they trudged, singing and whistling as before.

The sun was high overhead, and the light breeze blew the curls about Prue's little face, until Hi looking at her said,

"You're the nicest girl I know Prue; will ye give me some er your lunch, if I'll give you half er my apple?"

"Oh, yes," a.s.sented Prue, "I'm getting hungry too. Here, let's divide this gingerbread first."

Upon the low stone wall they perched, and a pretty picture they made, sharing their lunch and throwing the crumbs to the sparrows that twittered in the dusty road.

"We've been walking so long, we must be most to the deepot, Hi," said Prue.

"I guess so," the small boy answered, "so now we've finished the lunch, we'll just start along. Gim me yer hand, Prue; I'm a big boy, 'n I'm takin' care er you."

"Yes, you're taking care of me real good," Prue answered sweetly, "and I love you fer taking me to my Randy, but Hi," she continued, "I'll _have_ to sit down a minute, my feets are so tired."

"Oh, there's time 'nough," said Hi. "We'll rest a while, an' then, after we've walked a little ways, fust thing you'll see'll be the deepot. Then when we git inter the cars, we shall sit on the soft seat and jest rest 'til we get ter Randy's."

"Well, then, let's hurry," said Prue, "I'm some rested now, and if we run we'll get there all the sooner."

But Prue was more weary than she knew, and her little legs refused to run, so, settling into a jog trot the two tired children pushed onward, each step carrying them farther from the depot and at the same time farther from home.

When the pupils filed into the schoolroom after recess, Miss Gilman missed Prue and Hi, and questioned a number of scholars in regard to them.

"I seen 'em a-settin' on a stump back er the school," volunteered one small boy, "Want me ter go'n look for 'em?"

Permission given him, the boy ran out, delighted with the thought that he might thus elude one recitation; but a long search failing to discover the missing children, he was obliged to return with the information that he had looked everywhere and they weren't "anywheres 'raound the place."

"Possibly they have gone home," said Miss Gilman, but a vague uneasiness took possession of her, and when the afternoon session commenced with both children absent, she determined to call after school at the Weston's and see if Prue were safe, at the same time sending the Babson girls home in haste to learn if Hi could be found.

When Prue did not return at noon, Mrs. Weston was not alarmed, as the little girl often stayed at the school when, as on this day, she had in her little basket a hearty lunch, and before Prue could have possibly reached home in the afternoon Miss Gilman, with a desperate attempt to appear calm, called to ask if the little girl had been unable to attend the afternoon session.

"Ill? Why no, indeed! Why, what is it you say, Miss Gilman? That Prue has not been at school since the morning recess?"

The color left Mrs. Weston's cheek, and she leaned heavily upon the table, while Aunt Prudence, speaking with more confidence than she really felt, exclaimed,

"Now it's no use gettin' frightened. She's likely enough in someone's house as safe as can be, and what we've got ter do is ter harness up an'

call at the houses where Prue is acquainted an' she'll be with us before dark, I'll warrant ye."

Just at this point, Belinda Babson breathless and excited, ran in at the door crying wildly,

"Oh, Miss Gilman, Mrs. Weston! Little Hi isn't at our house and a man just told father that he saw Hi and Prue sitting on the stone wall away over on the mill road, and that was long before noon time. Where can they be now?

Mother's just wild and Aunt Drusilla's lost every idea she ever had. She's just wringing her hands and crying, and a saying that she's afraid that they're lost and wont be found."

Mr. Weston, coming in from the barn, heard Belinda's words and saw her frightened face.

With a grave expression in his kind gray eyes, he said,

"There, there mother, I wouldn't get too frightened. Prue's out of sight?

Well, I'll start out ter find her, and we'll hope that she is not so far off but that I shall soon bring her home." But to the mare he muttered as he adjusted the harness,