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.
"I don't know," said her mother, "but ye have worked this morning like
all possessed."
"Well," said Randy, "I'm just going to bring in towels and aprons from
the line and sprinkle and iron them, so's you can sit down awhile after
dinner."
Mrs. Weston looked at the bright, flushed face a moment, then said: "I
do declare, Randy, you're a real help. There ain't a better daughter in
this town, if I do say it."
"Oh, mother," said Randy, "I'd 'most work my fingers off just to hear
you say that. I help you because I love you, though somehow I never 'til
now could say it."
Mrs. Weston wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron, then, turning to
Randy, she kissed her, saying: "Why, Randy, it does me good to hear you
say it, and, child, ye must know I'm all bound up in you and Prue. We
busy folks sometimes forget to show how much we really feel."
"I mean," said Randy, "to make you and father happy, always; sometimes I
forget to help, but always I mean to."
"I know ye do," said her mother.
Randy moved about the kitchen with a subtle sense of exhilaration. Her
mother had always been kind and good, but to have her speak of her
affection and say a word of approval for her helpfulness, what more
could be needed to make a young girl happy? thought Randy.
She sang little snatches of melody while she cleared the dinner table,
and grasped the first leisure moment to steal out under the apple tree,
thence toward the brook to the old stone wall. A large stone had toppled
from the wall, and Randy sat down upon it to rest. She had intended to
make a little call upon Miss Dayton, to talk over the events of the
picnic, and to hear what her new friend had to tell her; for Helen had
hinted that she had another good time planned, and she promised to tell
Randy all about it when next they met.
Tall alders grew luxuriantly almost the entire length of the wall, which
served as a fence for one side of the pasture; and Randy, a bit tired
with the forenoon's work, easily fell into one of her day-dreams, when
she was aroused by hearing voices behind the alders. There seemed to be
two voices, and Randy heard them mention her father's name. She was an
honest girl who, under ordinary circumstances, would have scorned to
listen; but something in the tone of the speaker's voice seemed
distinctly unfriendly when he spoke of her father, and Randy seemed,
against her will, riveted to the spot and obliged to listen. She must
have taken her place on the big stone when the conversation was well
under way, but the sound of her own footsteps, while unheard by the
earnest talkers, had prevented her from hearing their voices. She was
invisible to them as they were to her, separated as they were by the
alders.
"Now, I've tried and tried 'til I'm tired er tryin' to sell Mr. Weston
that piece er medder land er mine, 'n' it would a been sold long ago if
I hadn't been bound to swap land instead er taking cash."
"Yes, but I don't see the great pint er not takin' cash ef he's fool
enough to pay it," said the second voice.
[Illustration: "Nearer to the Wall she crept"]
"I don't s'pose ye do, 'til I tell ye. Ye haven't been here fer years,
'n' only come yisterday, an' ef you was anybody under the sun but my own
brother, I wouldn't tell ye now."
How Randy's heart beat! Surely, it was right to listen now. If any one
meant to do her father harm, she must know it and warn him. Nearer to
the wall she crept, with a stealth which she was unaware she possessed,
and she tried to hush her breathing which came quick and hard.
"Just listen to this, Jim. My wife's just got back from a visit to her
folks, I forgit the name of the town, 'though it's on my tongue's end
this minute, and while she was there she heard say that they're goin' to
run a railroad through this part of the town, next summer, jest a sort
er branch road from the one that goes through the centre, and my wife
never let on that she was much interested; but she asked 'nough
questions, kinder keerful like, and she found that ef they _do_ build
the road, and she says the folks down that way say they do really mean
to, it'll be straight across that little bit er rocky field, back er
Weston's barn. Now, I argy that Weston's got money _'nough_, and I mean
ter keep at him 'til he agrees ter swap that 'ere little pesky, rocky
field er his'n fer my piece er medder land. The more I urge him the less
he seems ter want ter swap, an' I even offered to throw in a good young
steer to boot, an' all the satisfaction I could git out er him was,
'Wal', I dunno what makes yer so anxious fer that little piece er land
er mine.'
"He don't know nothin' 'bout the railroad yet, but there's no knowin'
how soon he will. My wife's naggin' me to make him swap, but I'd like to
see her try to hurry Weston when he don't intend to hurry; but I tell ye
now, ef that 'ere road _does_ run through his field, I mean ter own it
_fust_, an' I'm goin' up ter night ter talk him inter it."
Randy now realized that the speaker's voice was no other than Jason
Meade's. She was but fifteen, but she knew that if her father yielded to
his neighbor's urging, it would in some way mean loss to him. All
thought of her call upon Helen vanished, and in its place lay a great
fear that she might be seen before she could get away from her hiding
place and rush home.
She was a bit cramped with her crouching pose behind the wall. Slowly
she arose to her feet, glided along upon the grass, lest her footsteps
should be heard, and, once in the grove, she sprang across the brook,
dashed through the fields, up the path, and into the kitchen door, where
she dropped upon a chair and tried to speak.
"Why, Randy Weston! whatever ails ye? Ye look 's if ye'd seen a ghost.
Why, father," as the girl did not speak, "jest come look at Randy. She's
been runnin' 'til she's clean tuckered out, 'n' can't seem to speak."
Mr. Weston came hastening in from the well with a pail of water, which
he set down when he saw Randy.
"Why, Randy, child, what--"
"Oh, father,--the little rocky field behind the barn,--don't sell it,
don't swap it; the railroad's going through it; and oh, father, that's
why Jason Meade wants to make you swap it. It's going to be worth lots
and lots of money; he can't _make_ you swap it, can he, father?" and in
her anxiety she sprang up and put her hands upon her father's shoulders.
"There, there, Randy, you've done your father a good turn this time,
sure enough, ef it's true. Sit down and tell me where ye heard all
this."
So Randy, having regained her breath, told her anxious listeners the
tale, beginning with her intended call upon Miss Dayton; how she
strolled through the grove and across the brook, and sat down to rest
upon the big stone by the wall, with the great alders behind her; how
she had, at first sound of the voices, tried not to listen, and, on
hearing an unfriendly voice mention her father's name, she had, although
afraid of detection, crept close to the wall, to hear if the men really
meant to harm him.
Then she had told all that she had heard, word for word, finishing with,
"And, father, he _can't_ make you swap, can he? he seemed so
determined."
Then Mr. Weston did a very unusual thing. Putting his arm around Randy,
he drew her down upon his knee, where she had not sat since she was a
little girl like Prue, and as he looked at her, with just a suspicion of
moisture in his kind, blue eyes, he said, "Mother, we've got a girl to
be proud of."
"And to be thankful for," said Mrs. Weston.
"Amen!" said Randy's father, and he added, "Always be as brave and quick
to do what's right, Randy, as you have been to-day, even forgetting your
own pleasure, and I will trust you anywhere."
Here little Prue, who had been awed into silence by the earnestness of
the conversation, found her tongue once more, and piped in with, "Why,
pa, my big sister Randy's been good again. How can she be always good?"
They all laughed, and Randy, catching little Prue and giving her a tight
hug, said: "I know who's got the best little sister in all the world. I
have, just as sure as your name is Prudence."
"I like you to love me lots, Randy dear, but don't you call me anything
but Prue. 'Prudence' makes me think of Aunt Prudence, and she looked all
so," and here Prue drew down her wee mouth, and puckered up her fair
little forehead and brows into such a scowling imitation of Aunt
Prudence, that even her father, who did not at all approve, could not
help smiling at the dimpled copy of that lady's unpleasant face.
Soon Mrs. Weston had tea ready, and the family had but just finished the
evening meal when a loud tap at the door announced some neighbor's
arrival. Mr. Weston looked at his wife, with a twinkle in his eye, as he
arose to answer the knock.
"Well, well, Jason, come in, come in!" Thus Mr. Weston welcomed his
crafty neighbor.
"How are ye, Square Weston? I thought I'd jist drop in an' see if you'd
made up yer mind about that piece er land er mine."
"Well, yes, I hev," said Mr. Weston, looking his neighbor squarely in
the face; "I told ye, a month ago, I'd give ye two hundred dollars in
cash fer that big medder of yourn."
"I know it, I know you did; but the thing is, I've took a reel fancy to
that little rocky pasture er yourn, and I feel 's if I'd lots rather
have it, little as it is, than the cash, 'f you'll believe me."
Jason Meade sat back in his chair with the bland air of a man who had
done a good deed in praising his neighbor's property.
Mrs. Weston came out of the closet where she had been placing the dishes
and stood by her husband's chair, anxiously awaiting his answer. She
knew his generous nature, but she believed that this time he would be
firm.
Randy, who after tea had taken the fairy book to the table to read, now
leaned forward with parted lips.
Slowly Mr. Weston turned toward his neighbor, and a faint smile played
about his lips as he said, "I'll tell ye, Jason, I jist thought that
while it ain't so very val'able now, I've 'bout decided to keep it, for
when the railroad comes clean through it, I'm thinkin' I'll be reel
pleased to think it's my property."
Jason Meade's mouth opened to its widest extent, and to say that he was
amazed, astonished, or surprised, would be expressing it very mildly
indeed. He cleared his throat and blinked once or twice, then, as no
suitable remark seemed to suggest itself he arose, and pushing back his
chair, he said "he'd reely have to go as he'd got an arrant to do at
Mrs. Gray's." He sheepishly made his way toward the door, and mumbling
something about the weather, he dejectedly stalked out with the air of a
disappointed man.
"Why, father," said Randy, "he didn't even ask you how you knew about
the railroad."
Mr. Weston laughed as he said: "I guess he didn't care how I knew. That
I knew at all was what worried him."