"I shall never feel that way," said Randy, "how could I tire of the sweet
music, or of watching the crowd in the city streets? I was never tired of
listening to the birds at home and I'm sure," she added with a laugh, "I
even enjoyed watching the people coming into our little church. There is
always something new everywhere; and I am looking for it."

"That is a part of the secret of your happiness, Randy," said Aunt Marcia,
"you intend to be delighted and usually succeed."

"Why, I am still holding the flowers which Madam Valena gave me," said
Randy, "I must place them in water," and she hastened to find a suitable
vase in which to arrange them. They formed a brilliant bit of color in the
centre of the table when dinner was served, and caused Randy to talk once
more of the concert.

"It was all so charming that I suppose I stared; at least Polly Lawrence
said that I did."

"I saw Polly with you just as we were leaving the hall," said Helen, "what
did you say that she said?"

"She said, 'Why Randy Weston, you are staring at everybody and everything
as if you'd never attended a concert before!'"

"How singularly rude," said Aunt Marcia, little pleased that Randy should
be thus spoken to.

"And what did you say to that, Randy," asked Helen, wondering if Polly's
speech had cut deeply.

With a frank smile Randy answered,--"I said, 'Well this _is_ my first
concert. Possibly _you_ would be surprised if you had never before
experienced such a pleasure.'"

Helen and her aunt were much amused that Randy could answer so readily a
remark which was intended to embarrass her, and they realized that Randy's
frankness in admitting herself a country girl quite unused to city
pleasures, would disarm a girl like Polly, more successfully than any
amount of artifice or pretense.

CHAPTER IX

A SCOTCH LINNET

The sky was a cold, leaden gray, and down from the mountains swept a
pitiless wind, which whistled through the bare branches of the trees and
tossed a few dried leaves before it, as it hurried on as if with a fixed
determination to reach every corner of the village and chill everything
which it could touch.

It leveled the few standing cornstalks and caused the dry twigs to rap a
tattoo upon the windows of the farm houses. It attacked the shivering form
of a lonely little cur who took his tail between his legs and scurried
away down the road in search of some sheltering barn or shed; it nipped
little Hi Babso