“Wall, I guess that’s sure enough,” said Mr. Weston, with a chuckle, which Randy heard on her way up the stairs to her little bed-room.

The bright color flushed her cheeks as she thought of Jotham Potts who, since they were both little children, had been her ardent admirer, faithful and eager to do her slightest bidding.  She admired his frank, truthful character, appreciated his kindness and valued his friendship, but she made no one friend a favorite, striving rather to be friendly and cordial with all.

In her dreams she sent her gift to Molly many times, and as many times wondered if it pleased her, and when she awoke in the morning she could hardly believe that it had not yet been purchased.

“I’m glad it was just a dream,” thought Randy, as she stood before the tiny glass drawing the comb through the curling masses of her light brown hair, “because I’ve yet the pleasure of choosing the gift and of buying and sending it to her.

“I believe I’ll go down to Barnes’ store to-day, for now I’ve made up my mind what to do, I can hardly wait to do it.”

It seemed as if everything favored Randy’s scheme.  The first person whom she saw as she ran out to the well and commenced to lower the bucket was Jotham, whistling as he strode along, deftly cutting the tops from the roadside weeds with a switch.

“Hi, Randy!  Let me help you,” he said, vaulting lightly over the wall and hastening toward her as she stood smiling in the sunlight.

“You can help in another way to-day, if you will,” said Randy.  “Come and sit upon the wall while I tell you about it.”

“Indeed I will,” was the hearty rejoinder.  “I’ve often told you, Randy, that I’d do anything for you.”

“Well, this is for me, and for some one else too,” said Randy, looking earnestly up into his kind, dark eyes.

“And Jotham,” she continued eagerly, “you must not mind if I don’t tell you all about it, ’tis truly a good reason why I can’t.”

“I’ll do whatever you wish, Randy,” was the reply, “and I won’t ask a question.”

“Oh, here’s Prue coming,” said Randy, “and she mustn’t hear about it.  You meet me at Barnes’ store about four o’clock this afternoon and I’ll tell you then what I wish you to do.”

“All right,” said Jotham, “I’ll be there on time, you may be sure of that.”

“O, Randy,” cried little Prue, “what you tellin’ Jotham?  Tell me too.”

“See here, Prue,” said Jotham with as serious an expression as he could assume, “I was just telling Randy that I should be at Barnes’ store at four o’clock.”

“Oh, was that all?” said Prue, “I thought ’twas something great,” and her look of disgust at finding the conversation to be upon so ordinary a topic made both Randy and Jotham laugh heartily.

“Well I don’t see why you laugh,” said Prue, “’twon’t be funny to be going down to the store this hot afternoon.  I’d rather stay at home with my Tabby cat, and fan her to keep her cool.”