Randy and Her Friends Part 6

remarked Hi, determined to have his att.i.tude plainly understood.

Miss Gilman smiled as she looked at the rebellious little face, saying, kindly, "Perhaps you will enjoy school when you are acquainted with some of the scholars."

"I know Randy Weston's little sister, and I'd like ter sit side of her; she's some fun, 'sides she's littler'n I be," said Hi.

Miss Gilman thought best to humor this, his first request, so he took his seat beside Prue who smiled sweetly upon him, and the small boy at once decided that school with Prue for a friend might be as attractive as staying at home under the watchful eyes of Grandma Babson.

"It's only quarter of nine," Phoebe Small was saying, "and I rushed about like everything, thinking I should be late."

"I didn't have to hurry," said Randy, laughing, "for I was so sure that I was late when I awoke, that I never looked to see what time it was, but flew around doing what I could before breakfast toward getting ready for school. Then I began to wonder why mother didn't call me, and I looked at the clock. It was an hour before breakfast time!"

"Oh what a waste of strength," said Jack Marvin, with a well affected yawn. "I got started first and called fer my cousin Dot, and by tugging her all the way I managed to get her here, too."

The Langham twins, to whom Jack was very attentive, looked at each other in amazement. They admired Jack, but was he untruthful? The idea that he was joking never occurred to them.

Reuben Jenks described them as "joke proof," as they had never been known to see the point of any witticism, and if it chanced to be explained to them they would stare placidly at the speaker and then invariably remark,

"Why I don't call that funny."

"I'm going to tell Miss Gilman that my name is Dorothea. I'm tired of being called Dot, 'specially as I'm round and dumpy," remarked Jack's cousin resolutely.

"I'll call you Dorothea every time as loud as I can roar it, see if I don't," said Jack, but as Miss Gilman touched her bell just at this moment, Jack was obliged to wait for an opportunity to address his cousin by her full name.

As the scholars were taking their places in the seats which had been a.s.signed them, Molly Wilson entered, looking very pretty in a gown of a dark, rich red and a pair of new boots which squeaked with every step.

"Her new dress is just like yours," whispered Dot Marvin to Randy, but Randy, whose cheeks were suddenly very pink, seemed not to have heard, and Dot was obliged to be contented with looking from Molly's dress to Randy's and wondering how it happened that they chanced to be alike.

The scholars from the youngest to the oldest were loud in their praise of the new school, and delighted that Miss Gilman was again their faithful teacher, but in the merry throng there was one who found it difficult to be content, and that was Phoebe Small. That the schoolroom was warm and cheerful, that there was plenty of room, and ample opportunity for study counted for little since she had set her heart upon going to boarding school, and therefore an ordinary day school seemed a very tame affair.

At recess she confided to Dot Marvin that she didn't see why ma couldn't approve of having her daughter at a boarding school since she (Mrs. Small) attended one when she was a girl.

"I'd 'nough sight rather be at home," drawled Dot, "even with my cousin Jack to tease me. When he goes a little too far I can hit back by teasing him 'bout the Langham twins. That always stops him. But Phoebe," she continued, "I shouldn't think you would like to go away to school. They'd all be strangers and seems to me you'd be lonesome and homesick."

"That's what ma said, but I wanted to try it. I can't, it seems, so I've got to stay here and try to think I like it," said Phoebe, with an expression upon her face of extreme dissatisfaction.

In another part of the yard an animated conversation of quite a different character was in progress. Little Hi Babson and Prue Weston were swinging upon the gate.

"Why how naughty," Prue was saying. "I shouldn't a thought you'd dare to."

"Well, I did," Hi answered. "I didn't want ter come ter school, so ter pay 'em fer makin' me, I hid the clock key so they can't wind the clock. I dropped it inter the m'la.s.ses jug, 'n' I guess to-morrer mornin' they won't know what time ter send me ter school.

"I've took the basket er clothes-pins and lowered 'em down the well; I've took an hid Grandma Babson's best cap, 'cause she said 'That boy needs a lickin'.' Want ter know where I put it? Up in the barnloft on the hay. I did somethin' else too. I put a wad er paper in the dinner horn. Won't they be mad when they try to blow it? I guess they'll be sorry they made me go ter school."

"Oh, but that's naughty!" cried Prue. "I'd think you'd be most afraid to be so _very_ naughty. What'll they do when you get home?"

Hi's face lost its hilarious expression.

"I ain't got home yet," he said.

The boys and girls had returned to their lessons with all the eager enthusiasm which had been a characteristic of the school when Miss Gilman had first taken it, but the young teacher could not but contrast this "first day" with that of the year before. Then, there had been little order; now, there was perfect concord with every pupil striving to do his best.

Here and there an unruly member of the primary cla.s.s caused a disturbance, but as a whole, the pupils were both quiet and studious.

When school closed Randy and Prue with a troop of friends walked along the road toward home, talking of the little events of the day and exulting over their fine schoolhouse, the large yard and full cla.s.ses.

"Didn't it seem odd to see so many new scholars this year?" said Randy.

"We must get acquainted with them and help them to enjoy our little pleasures."

"That is what you and Jotham did when I moved here last year," said Molly Wilson, "and oh, Randy, I never could begin to tell you how in my heart I thanked you when you came and spoke to me that first lonesome day at school."

"I knew that I should be glad to have some one speak to me if I had only strangers about me," said Randy, sweetly.

"How we shall miss Jotham this year," said Reuben Jenks.

"He's going on with his studies with the professor here at home this month, but the first of October he's to be in Cambridge. The tutor goes back there to teach at the college and Jotham is to board near the university, he says, and have private teachin'."

"You'll miss him, Randy, won't you?" queried little Prue.

"We shall all wish that he were with us," was Randy's discreet answer.

Suddenly Prue exclaimed,

"You've got a new dress, Molly; it's a beauty, and it's just like my Randy's."

"So it is," said Molly. "I had a birthday a short time ago, and I had a pair of mittens which mother had knit for me to wear this winter, some candy, some shoes and this lovely dress."

"Who gived you the dress?" asked Prue, innocently.

"That's what I'd like to know," was Molly's answer. "It was sent to me, and on the bundle it said, 'From one who loves you.' I'd give much to tell the one who sent it how lovely I think it is."

"I like mine better than any dress I've had," said Randy, "and since you think it pretty it's nice that yours is like it."

"I don't know as I'd care what gowns I had if I'd been allowed to go to boarding school," said Phoebe Small. "This school is pleasant enough, I like the teacher and of course I like the girls and boys."

"'Specially the boys," remarked Reuben Jenks, when a scowl from Phoebe silenced him.

"I think it would be great fun to go away somewhere. I don't know as I care where, and see a new school and new faces. 'Twouldn't prevent keeping all my old friends just because I made new ones," said Phoebe in a disconsolate voice. "It's just no use to wish," she continued, "for I wished last night when I saw the moon over my right shoulder, and I don't, know how many times I've wished when I've seen the first little star at night. This morning I found a horse shoe, and stood on it wis.h.i.+ng with all my might that ma would let me just try boarding school for one term and I guess that old horse shoe just about finished it, for I ran in and asked ma again, and she put down the pan that she had in her hand and says she,

"'Phoebe Small, if you ask me that again, I believe I shall fly. I've said no to it repeatedly and I meant it. Now, hurry and get ready for school; you'll find there's something yet to be learned there, I'll be bound.'"

"Never mind, Phoebe," said Randy, "it's disappointing if you so wished to go, but think how we should have missed you."

"O Randy, to think that you would have missed me makes me almost glad to stay here," said Phoebe, with a bright tear upon her lashes.

It was over a year since Phoebe had resolved to conquer her "unruly tongue" as she described it, and although at times a sharp saying escaped her lips she was really a very different girl from the Phoebe of the year before. That she was in earnest was evident, for if some careless speech chanced to hurt one of her friends, she promptly acknowledged her fault, and grasped the first opportunity to do some little kindness which should thus give proof that her regret was sincere.

Of Jotham the boys and girls saw but little, his new studies requiring strict application, and only at rare intervals was it possible for him to find a few leisure moments for Randy, and when October came it was with regret that he said "good-bye," although his heart was full of antic.i.p.ation.

"You will miss me, Randy?" he had asked, and Randy had answered frankly,