othing can
make it less dear to me," said Randy.

"I enjoy all the pleasures which Miss Dayton plans for me, and I have
become attached to the school and to the pleasant friends which I have
made here in the city; but sometimes in the midst of my study, sometimes
when listening to rare music, the thought of home brings the tears, and
for the moment, I am homesick, so homesick that I think I cannot stay.

"Then I remember that father and mother wish me to excel in my studies,
and I crowd back the tears, and by reminding myself that with the spring I
shall return, I try to be cheerful."

As the bell called the girls to their seats, Nina whispered as she passed,

"O Randy! The longer I know you, the more truly I love you;" and the
whispered words made Randy very happy.

* * * * *

On the day of the little party the decorators converted the drawing-room
into a veritable rose garden, glowing and sweet, the lovely pink blossoms
sending out their fragrance as if doing their utmost to honor Randy, who,
until that season, had known only the garden roses which blossomed near
the farm-house door.

The lights were softened by delicate pink shades, and upon a pedestal
beneath Aunt Marcia's portrait, stood a huge jardiniere filled with roses
the glowing petals of which seemed to repeat the color of the brocaded
court gown in the picture.

In her little room, Randy, with sparkling eyes, and quick beating heart,
stood before her mirror, mechanically drawing a comb through her soft
brown hair. Her mind was far away and she did not seem to see the girl
reflected there.

"If they were all here to-night,--" she murmured, and as the words escaped
her lips, two bright tears lay upon her cheek.

"Oh, this will never do," said Randy, quickly drying the tears, and
endeavoring to summon a smile.

"Mother and father would surely say,

"'Be cheerful to-night, Miss Dayton will wish it. Remember she is giving
the party for you.'"

So, smiling bravely, she arranged her hair in the pretty, simple manner in
which she usually dressed it, and proceeded to array herself in the white
muslin which Janie Clifton had declared to be just the thing for a city
party, and just the thing for Randy.

And Janie had spoken wisely. Nothing could have been more becoming, or
served more surely to show Randy's fine coloring than the sheer muslin
with its white satin ribbons.

As she stood looking at the transparent folds