r bag on which was
printed in little Prue's best manner,

"For my Randy."

Poor little Prue! The bag of candy which her father had brought from the
Centre to cheer the little girl and help to turn her attention from the
thought of loneliness when Randy should say "good-bye," proved
inefficient. Nothing could make Randy's departure less hard for little
Prue, and she had evidently found a bit of comfort in tucking the little
bag into a corner of the lunch basket, thus contributing her mite toward
Randy's pleasure.

"Dear little Prue," murmured Randy, "she shall have the loveliest doll I
can find in Boston."

The afternoon ride seemed longer and less amusing than that of the
morning. The novelty was wearing off, and Randy was beginning to feel
weary.

When it grew dusky and in the towns along the way bright lights appeared,
a sudden fear took possession of her. What if she should be unable to see
Miss Dayton when she stepped from the train at Boston?

CHAPTER VI

NEW FRIENDS

A brakeman passed down the aisle and commenced to light the lamps, and
Randy peeping from the window saw that the stars were shining. She knew
that at home old Snowfoot and the cows were under the shelter of the great
barn, and that father and mother and dear little Prue were seated around
the table. Tears filled her eyes and she quickly drew the curtain and
began to look about the brightly lighted car with the hope of seeing
something which should hold her attention and thus help to dispel the wave
of homesickness which swept over her.

An old lady with a kindly face turned just in time to see Randy's
handkerchief at her eyes, and she hastened to speak a word of comfort.

"Traveling alone, dear?" she asked so gently that Randy forgot to be
surprised, and she bowed her head in assent in place of the word which,
for the moment she could not speak.

"I thought so," said the old lady, "but don't cry, your friends will
probably be at the depot in Boston when you arrive, will they not?"

"Oh, yes," said Randy, "but it isn't that. I was thinking of those I'd
left at home," and away went the little handkerchief again to her eyes.

"Ah, that is it," said the sweet old voice. "Well, the homesickness will
wear off after a time, and now in regard to to-night, your friends will
doubtless be waiting when this train gets in, but if by chance they are
not, you shall come to my home with me until we can get word to their
address that you