Randy and Her Friends by Amy Brooks

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In the shadow cast by a statue and leaning against its pedestal, stood
Polly Lawrence, her flushed cheeks vieing with the scarlet gauze which she
wore, a most unpleasant expression upon her small face, while her nervous
fingers plucked to pieces a red rose which she had taken from her bodice
and she angrily tapped the floor with her satin slipper. And what had
occurred to mar the evening's pleasure for Polly Lawrence?

Merely the fact that she was not the only girl in the room to receive
attention, and also that she had chosen a gaudy costume for the occasion,
and was conscious that her choice had been unwise.

Shallow by nature, and without keen perception, she yet possessed
sufficient good sense to see that she had not impressed her friends with
the magnificence of her apparel, and her vanity received a thrust when a
friend said to her,

"How sweet Randy Weston looks in her white gown and ribbons! One would
know that she would never wear a gaudy dress."

Polly had made no reply, but in exasperation she thought,

"Every one admires Randy. I do believe that they would think she looked
sweet in white calico."

There was, after all, a bit of excuse for Polly. Reared by her aunt, a
woman with a character as shallow as that of her niece, Polly's vanity had
never been curbed, rather it had been encouraged. She was allowed to
choose her own costumes, her aunt rarely venturing a suggestion; and the
milliners and dressmakers, reading the girl's vain character, encouraged
Polly to purchase that which was most expensive, regardless as to whether
it might be suitable or becoming.

Furs, designed apparently for a dowager, at once became her own, if only
she could be assured that no girl of her acquaintance owned a set as
costly, and upon all occasions it appeared to be her intention to wear
more jewelry than any other person present.

Later, when all had repaired to the dining-room, Polly's displeasure was
somewhat appeased when she found herself placed beside Peggy's brother,
who was a thoroughly good fellow, and ever a gentleman, therefore he
immediately proceeded to make himself very agreeable to Polly, although
had he been given his choice of a companion he would most surely have
chosen quite a different girl.

Beside Randy sat Jotham who declared himself to be "as happy as a king,"
and his tutor, the young professor, seemed equally charmed beside Helen
Dayton, with whom he was exchanging reminiscences of college days.

"Do you remember a certain girl, Miss Dayton," he asked, "who on a
memorable class day gave the pleasure of her company to a diffident
student who in ecstasy at playing escort to the lovely girl and her
dignified Aunt Marcia, nearly forgot all which he ever knew, managing only
to stammer through an effort at conversation which must have completely
bored her?"

"Pardon me, the girl could not truly have been bored," Miss Dayton
replied, "else it would not be true that to-night she remembers every
event of that delightful day with a pleasure which she has never found
words to describe."

"Is that really true?" he asked, but other voices making a merry din
allowed the answer to be heard only by the one for whom it was intended,
and soon Helen was leading the conversation into channels in which all
might take part, causing the gifted ones to show their sparkling wit, and
coaxing the shy guests to talk, who would otherwise have been silent.

Miss Dayton possessed in a wonderful degree, the ability to help each
person present to appear at his best, with the result that all were made
happy and glad to proclaim that no home boasted as sweet a young hostess
as Helen Dayton, or as grand a mistress as gracious Aunt Marcia, who
dearly loved young people, and who was never happier than when in their
company.

Peggy Atherton, aware that she was becomingly attired in her blue silk and
forget-me-nots, was doing her best to coax a diffident youth to join in
the conversation, and at the same time naughtily enjoying his blushing
answers to her bright speeches.

Randy saw Peggy's roguish eyes, and wondered what it might be which so
amused her, when a pause in the general conversation allowed the following
to be heard,--

"Were you at the last symphony?" Peggy asked sweetly.

"Yes,--no,--that is I think I was, but I can't quite remember," was the
halting answer.

"Oh, you _would_ remember if you were really there," persisted Peggy,
"because the program was extra fine and the solos were something to dream
of."

"Yes, yes the music was er,--very er,--musical, and the soloist, that is,
the one who sang a solo, was er,--the only one who er--sang alone, I
believe."

Randy stifled a wild desire to laugh, for she saw plainly that Peggy was
teasing the youth, who in his extreme diffidence, was appearing as if he
were a simpleton, which was indeed far from the truth.

Peggy well knew that he was a bright young student, and she secretly
admired his intellect, but she was an inveterate tease, and it amused her
to see him blush, and to hear his faltering answers.

She did not mean to hurt him; only a thoughtless mirth tempted her to
torment him; but to Randy, Peggy's conduct seemed very cruel, and she
determined to save the luckless youth from further discomfort. Turning to
Jotham, expecting as usual to find in him an ally, Randy said,

"I saw you talking with Cyril Langdon just before we left the
drawing-room. He is ill at ease, because Peggy is teasing him, but when he
chooses to talk he is very interesting. Do make Peggy stop, she is
spoiling his evening. Ask him,--oh ask him about the Tech. athletics or
anything, Jotham, can't you?"

Jotham, as usual, glad of an opportunity to please Randy, succeeded in
drawing Cyril into a conversation which proved interesting to all, and
made the boy forget his discomfiture.

Peggy was aware of a vague wish that she had been more merciful, and
resolved another time to help, rather than hinder a conversation.

Later, when the gay little party returned to the drawing-room, Randy
begged Miss Dayton to favor her friends with some music. Helen, ever ready
to give pleasure, seated herself at the piano, Professor Marden standing
beside her, ostensibly to turn her music, but in truth to watch her
graceful fingers upon the keys.

Her audience was enthusiastic, and not to be satisfied with one selection.
Helen smilingly acceded to their requests, and when she arose from the
piano she was greeted with generous praise.

Among the happy faces Randy saw one less bright than the others. It was
Polly Lawrence, and Randy wondered what had caused a frown upon the
usually smiling face. "It would never do to ask her why she isn't enjoying
my party," she said to herself, "but I do wish she looked happier. I am so
happy this evening, that I wish everyone else to enjoy every moment of it.
I believe I'll ask her to sing for us. She sings nicely, and perhaps she
would be pleased to, if she knew we wished it."

Accordingly, Randy hastened to Polly who was standing apart from the
guests, and looking as if in anything but a pleasant mood. Her face
brightened, however, when told that it would be a pleasure to hear her
sing, and after a little urging, she consented. She possessed a light
soprano voice which had been carefully trained, and when she chose, she
could sing most acceptably.

On this especial evening, it pleased her to do her best, and she delighted
her friends with a number of songs, for which Miss Dayton played the
accompaniments. Polly received unstinted praise for her singing, and she
therefore, upon her return, told her aunt that the party was a success.

At the end of the drawing-room, Nina Irwin was merrily chatting with a
number of her friends, and Polly hastened to join the group, where she was
soon laughing as gaily as the others, and apparently as happy.

Near the centre of the room Miss Dayton and Randy, Jotham and Professor
Marden stood, evidently engaged in the discussion of a most interesting
subject, and as Aunt Marcia joined them, she was asked to give her
opinion.

"What has been my greatest pleasure in life?" She smiled as she repeated
the question, and turned for a moment and looked long and earnestly at her
portrait, then she said,

"When that picture was painted and was first seen by my friends, some one
remarked,

"'Oh, how dearly above all else Marcia prizes a gay life!'

"I have always enjoyed social pleasures," she continued, "but if I were to
say that one thing, above all else, gave me true delight, I should say,
that to make others happy had ever been my greatest joy."

"Pardon me, if I venture to say that that is the charm which has preserved
your beauty," said the young tutor, gravely bowing to Aunt Marcia, who,
sweeping a low courtesy, acknowledged the courtly speech which was uttered
in such evident sincerity.

"And, in return let me say, that the young man who thinks it worth while
to pay a graceful compliment to one who is quite old enough to be his
grandmother, proves himself to be a worthy descendant of his talented
father, a perfect gentleman of the old school," replied Aunt Marcia; and
Helen saw the quick flush of pleasure on the professor's cheek. His love
for his father amounted almost to worship, and Aunt Marcia could have
chosen no word of praise which would have moved him so deeply, or pleased
him more surely, than to thus have declared him, to be a "worthy
descendant."

Other young people joined this central group, and Nina at the piano played
softly a dreamy nocturne which seemed a gentle accompaniment to the
conversation.

In the shadow of a tall jar of ferns Jotham was looking at Randy, and
thinking that while the white party gown was very charming, it was also
true that Randy at home in a pink sunbonnet had been well worth looking
at.

"How serious you look," said Randy, "are you thinking that to-night's
pleasure will mean many hours of hard study to-morrow, Jotham?"

"No, indeed," he answered with a laugh, "I am not allowing a thought of
study to mar to-night's enjoyment. I was just wondering, Randy, why some
girls are very dependent for a good appearance, upon what they wear, while
one girl whom I know, can look equally well in a party gown or a gingham
dress and sunbonnet."

Randy blushed as she said, "O, Jotham, has Professor Marden been teaching
you to pay compliments, along with your other studies?"

"Indeed, no," was the answer. "He meant every word which he said to Miss
Dayton's aunt, as truly as I meant what I said to you, and Randy," he
continued, "you and I have been here in the city all winter, have seen its
life and stir and bustle, and you have seen much of the social side of the
problem which is puzzling me. Is it so much better, this city life, than
the home life in the country? There, every busybody is interested in his
neighbor; here, we are met on every hand by strangers who do not know, or
wish to know anything in regard to us. Here a hundred strangers in the
great railway stations are objects of but little interest. Randy, do you
realize the commotion which one arrival with a hand-bag causes at the
little station at home? I tell you, Randy, one is large in a little
country town, and small, so small in a great city."

"One is never small, wherever he may be, in the hearts of his friends,
Jotham," was the sweet reply, "but in regard to home, there is no place
like it. I enjoy all the brightness, the study, the fine pictures which I
have seen and the rare music which I have heard; but, Jotham, I am at
heart a country girl, and while I like to be here, if I were to choose
'for always,' as little Prue says, I'd choose the mountains and the
streams at home.

"I shall not leave behind the knowledge which I have gained. I shall be
all the happier because of it, but home is home, isn't it, Jotham?"

"Indeed it is," answered Jotham, heartily.

And now the carriages were beginning to arrive, and in twos and threes the
guests departed, assuring Randy and Helen that the evening had been one of
rare pleasure.

Jotham and his tutor left together, promising their charming hostesses
that they should soon find leisure for a call. And when the last guest
had departed, and Randy, Helen, and Aunt Marcia looked about the flower
scented rooms, Randy said, with a happy sigh,

"Oh, what a lovely, lovely party! I was sorry to see them go. I am not
even tired. No one could be tired during such an evening."

"Dear Randy," said Helen, "it was indeed a pretty party, and well worth my
effort to make it a success. You were an ideal little hostess, Randy, you
did your part to perfection."

"Why, I was only just myself. I was not at all fine," said Randy in
amazement.

"That is just the secret of your success," Helen replied. "Always be just
your own true self, and no one in all the world would ask for more."

CHAPTER XI

TIMOTHEUS AND HIS NEIGHBORS

"Whao! Whao! I tell ye. Be ye deef, or be ye jest contrary?

"I b'lieve them critters 'd like ter see me wait 'til June fer
plaoughin'."

The ill-matched pair came to a standstill, and so listless was their
bearing, that one would say that having decided to halt, nothing would
induce them to again draw the plough.

"There, ye can rest naow, fer a spell, 'til ye git yer wind, an' then I'll
set ye at it agin."

One of the horses snorted derisively, but Jabez Brimblecom cared little
for that. He drew from his hip pocket a large envelope, and opening the
letter which it contained, adjusted his spectacles and laboriously read it
for the third time.

"Wal, all I got ter say 'baout it is, that it's pooty full er big words,
an' flourishes, but biled daown, it 'maounts ter jist this; Sabriny's sot
her mind on makin' us an' everlastin' long visit. I shan't hev ter stand
much on't, however; I'll be aout doors most of the time, when I _have_
ter, an' I vum I'll be aout all the rest of the time because I _choose_
ter.

"Sabriny's a team, an' so's Mis' Brimblecom. They never did pull together.
Not but that they _pull_ 'nough, only it's allus the opposite ways. I
don't stay in doors much arter she arrives! No, Siree!

"G'lang there! G'lang I say!

"Well, fust ye won't stop, an' then ye won't budge! I vaow I never see a
pair er critters like ye, 'cept my wife an' cousin Sabriny!"

When at last the pair concluded to move, they started forward with a most
surprising lurch, and Jabez Brimblecom found his hands full in guiding the
plough, and the two horses who, having decided to bestir themselves,
tramped diligently back and forth, leaving the long rows of furrowed
earth as evidence of their willingness to work when their ambition was
aroused.

Again they stopped to rest and again Mr. Brimblecom fumbled in his pocket
for the envelope, but he did not take it out.

"Why didn't she write the letter 'stead er gittin' that husband er hern
ter write fer her? I'd 'nough rather she'd told Mis' Brimblecom she wuz
comin', 'stead er leavin' me ter tell her. She'll be mad's a hornet, an' I
vaow I won't blame her.

"G'lang there! Wal, I'll be switched if she isn't comin' daown ter the
bars naow. Wonder what's up?"

"Jabez! Jabez! _Ja--bez!_"

"All right, I'll be there," was the answer, but in an aside he remarked
apparently to the horses,

"'F I git my courage up, I'll tell her 'baout Sabriny naow and be done
with it;" but his bravery was not put to the test. Before he could reach
the bars where his wife stood waiting, she cried out vehemently, "Jabez
Brimblecom, what do ye think? Mis' Hodgkins used ter know yer cousin
Sabriny when they both wuz girls, an' she says she's jest got a letter a
sayin' that Sabriny's comin' here ter make er long visit. She's goin' ter
spend two weeks with Mis' Hodgkins, an' all the rest er the summer with
us. Jabez, I'd rather heerd of er cyclone a hittin' us, fer ye well know
that there'll be no peace 'til she packs an' starts fer home."

"I know it, I know it," Jabez answered, with feeling.

"I got er letter in my pocket, an' I been hatin' ter show it to ye, but
mebbe ye might as well read it and make what ye can out'n it."

Mrs. Brimblecom wiped her glasses and commenced to read the letter.

"Naow what's the use'n his talkin' baout the 'wonderful mountain air,' an'
the 'sparklin' springs,' an' er sayin' that they'll do such a sight fer
Sabriny?

"We know what the air is, an' fer that matter, so does she; she's allus
lived here. An' as ter the springs; she never so much as looked at 'em
when she was here before, but she spent a lot er time tellin' me how she
couldn't sleep on my corded beds. She said she had ter sleep on springs
an' I was baout tired a hearin' tell of our short comin's; an' I told her
if springs was necessary to her well-bein', she'd no doubt be best off ter
hum where she'd been braggin' she had plenty of 'em."

"I didn't blame ye fer gittin' riled," said Jabez, "but I s'pose we'll hev
ter welcome her, even if we're driven ter speed her departur;" and they
both laughed good-naturedly, and mentally decided to make the best of the
self-invited guest.

"Wal, she ain't here yit," said Mrs. Brimblecom, "and the fust two weeks
she spends with Mis' Hodgkins, an' p'raps by the time she arrives here,
I'll be cooled daown 'nough ter be kind er perlite, though I shan't say,
'I'm glad ter see ye Sabriny,' fer that'd be a lie."

"_I_ shall say, 'I hope I see ye well, Sabriny,' fer massy knows I
wouldn't want her ter be sick fer ye ter wait on," remarked Jabez, with a
twinkle in his eye.

"Wal," he continued, "I must git this piece er plaoughin' done. I can't
set daown an' luxooriate an' wait 'til we see Sabriny acomin'."

With a loud "G'lang there," he aroused his placid horses, and across the
fields they sped, and Mrs. Brimblecom, with the letter in her hand,
hastened back to the house where, after placing the large envelope under
the cushion of her rocking chair, she busied herself with household tasks.

Later, when she felt that she had earned a few leisure moments, she drew
the letter from its hiding-place and sat down to study it.

"'F I hadn't hid ye under the cushion, like as not when I wanted ter read
ye, ye'd be lost," she remarked.

A few moments she read in silence, then her disgust moved her to speak.

"Sabriny feels better in a 'higher altitude,'--well, why doesn't she git
one, whatever 'tis, an' git inter it an' stay there, 'stead a pesterin' me
with her visits." Mrs. Brimblecom perused a few more lines, when again she
spoke.

"She seems ter 'have little energy,'--wal, I don't want ter be mean, but I
can't help a hopin' that she won't gain any. Sabriny without energy would
be er sight that'd cheer me. Her tremenjous vim nearly wore me aout last
season. Ef she'd jest manage ter leave her energy ter hum, I do'no's I'd
mind her comin'."

While good Mrs. Brimblecom was studying the letter, Mrs. Hodgkins had
sallied forth to tell the great news, that the visitor was expected, and
as she passed the village store, old Mr. Simpkins, in the doorway, was
taking leave of Silas Barnes.

"Yes, sir, he's a great feller, he is. There ain't another as 'riginal as
he is on the globe, I bet ye. He's done a lot er bright things time an'
time 'n again, but this time beats the other times all holler."

"What's he done naow?" asked Barnes.

"Hey?" remarked Mr. Simpkins, with his hand at his ear.

"I say, what's he done _naow_?" roared Barnes.

"Oh, I ain't tellin' yit. Even his brother Joel don't know, an' won't know
this week, but next week the taown will be 'baout wild with the news er
what Timotheus has done. Ye'll be 'bliged ter wait 'til then," said Mr.
Simpkins.

"I guess I'll be able to stand it," remarked Silas Barnes in an undertone.

"Hey? Did ye say ye'd understand it? Wal, I ain't sure whether ye will er
not. It's most too much fer _me_," Mr. Simpkins replied, as he made his
way cautiously down the rickety steps.

"Fer goodness sakes, what's Timotheus been a doin' naow, I wonder,"
muttered Mrs. Hodgkins. "I shan't ask, an' be told ter wait, as Silas
Barnes was.

"I'd like ter know one thing," she continued, "an' that is whether the boy
is 'specially bright as his _father_ thinks, or whether he's a little
lackin' as _I_ think, an' I do'no who's ter decide."

Up the road she trudged, and as she turned the corner, a most surprising
sight caused her to stop and ejaculate. "Land er the livin'! What ails him
naow?"

Timotheus Simpkins, unaware that he was observed, was executing a most
fantastic jig in the middle of the road.

"I've did it naow, I bet ye 'n even Joel 'll have ter admit I'm a sight
bigger'n anybody 'n taown. Good-bye ter farmin' and hooray fer literatoor,
I say."

"Wal, be ye losin' yer senses, er clean gone crazy?" asked Mrs. Hodgkins
in disgust.

Timotheus paused in his wild pirouette, and gave Mrs. Hodgkins a withering
glance.

"It ain't wuth while ter explain Mis' Hodgkins, bein's I don't feel ye'd
be able ter' understand the magnitood er what I've done."

"_Dew tell!_" remarked Mrs. Hodgkins with fine contempt, "I hope the
taown is still big 'nough ter hold ye, _Mr._ Simpkins."

Her irony was wasted, however.

"I'm glad ye reelize the time's come ter 'dress me as 'Mr.,'" remarked
Timotheus, and Mrs. Hodgkins vouchsafed no answer, but hurried along the
road, "afeared ter speak," as she afterward said, "lest I'd say a deal
more'n I orter."

In the long drawing-room Randy and Helen Dayton were chatting merrily with
Jotham and Professor Marden when Aunt Marcia joined them, expressing
pleasure in being at home to share the call.

In two weeks the private school would close, when Randy would say
"good-bye" to her city home and the two dear friends who had entertained
her, to the schoolmates of whom she had become so fond, and then she would
be speeding over the rails every mile of which would take her nearer home,
the dear country home. As Jotham was to leave the city at the same time,
he asked the pleasure of accompanying Randy upon the journey, and his
offer was gladly accepted.

"And have you heard the latest news from home, Randy?" asked Jotham.
Without awaiting a reply he continued,

"Timotheus Simpkins has 'blossomed aout,' as his father expresses it and a
specimen of his 'literatoor' is printed in the county paper. Father sent
me a marked copy, and if you like I will read the article."

"I should indeed like to hear it," said Aunt Marcia; "from what Randy says
of him I think Timotheus must be an unique character."

"He is truly an odd specimen," said Helen, "I cannot imagine what he would
write."

"Read it, do read it," said Randy, and Jotham read the following:

"THORT.

"Thort is the gratest thing that has ever been thort of. I don't
know of eny thing bigger than thort that I have thort of, less
twas riginalty, an reely _thats_ thort. When I'm busy thinkin'
thorts I aint apt ter have my mind on eny thing else mostly. Most
of the books what I have read I think was writ without enough
thort. Take the almanic; if _Id_ writ the almanic whare they say,
'bout this time expect rain,' _Id_ a said, bout this time expect
weather. Id a put some thort on the matter and Id a knowd that
yed natraly have weather er some kind, cause theres _allus_
weather round about these parts, but most folks havent no power
ter have thort, an thats why theres so few folks that is great. I
mean ter spend my time in thort an' casionally do a little
ploughing. I thort so continooal that I had ter leave school in
order ter git time ter think in, so havin learnt all there was
ter learn, I left school ter the fellers as thort so little that
they didn't need much time fer it an now I shall put on paper
such thort as most folks can tackle, but some er my thort is so
thortful that most any body couldn't understand it, an so no more
until Ive thort again.

"Yours thortfully
TIMOTHEUS SIMPKINS."

"Poor Timotheus," said Helen Dayton.

"And why 'poor Timotheus'?" asked Professor Marden. "With his stock of
egotism, I think the fellow must be happier than the average man. I know
of no one who considers himself the only thinker in the universe, except
this young Simpkins. He must, indeed, be supremely happy."

"And the joke is," said Jotham, "that he received a small sum for the
article, and a personal letter from the editor. The money, (I believe it
was the immense sum of two dollars,) pleased Timotheus, but the letter
puzzled him extremely. He considered the article to be a serious, as well
as a lofty effort, whereas the editor evidently supposed it to be
humorous, and believed the unique spelling to be a part of the fun.
Timotheus told my father that 'the money showed that his "literatoor" was
wuth something but that the editor man must be dull ter think that it was
anything but a tremenjous hefty comp'sition.'

"Old Mr. Simpkins considers Timotheus a prodigy, and seems to feel
contempt for his elder son, Joel, who as he expressed it, 'ain't
intellectooal like Timotheus,' and Joel usually retaliates by saying,
'It's lucky one son er the Simpkins family has got jest plain common
sense.'

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