“Well I’d just like to try it and see how it would seem.  I could write letters home to the girls as Randy does, and I think that would be just grand.”

At last it occurred to Mrs. Small that the best thing for Phoebe would be to grant her wish.

“I know that she will be homesick before she’s been away a week,” she said to her husband, “but she cannot be convinced, and perhaps if we allow her to try it, she will get all and more than she wants of it, and come home with a mind to be contented.”

So one bright morning Phoebe was driven to the station on her way to a school for girls which was under the direction of two ladies who were friends of Mrs. Small.  Immediately upon her arrival she sent a note to her mother in which she told in glowing words of the pleasure of her ride in the cars, and her reception by the two elderly ladies who presided over the school.

Then, after a week had passed another letter came the general tone of which was less cheerful.  Then a fortnight slipped by, and a brief letter told only of her studies, and said not a word of the delights of boarding school life.  Then, as time passed and the mail brought no letter from Phoebe, her mother became anxious.

“I do hope she’s well, and I must say I wish I’d never consented when she begged to go,” said Mrs. Small a dozen times a day, to which her husband would reply,

“Oh, she’s all right.  If she was sick they’d let us know.  Most likely she’s had ’nough of it, and hates ter say so.”

“Well, all the same, if I don’t get a letter from her to-day, I’ll go after her to-morrow.”  Mrs. Small answered, as the wind whistled around the corner and down the chimney.

While this conversation was in progress at the Small homestead, the same subject was being discussed at the village school.  Because of the intense cold, Miss Gilman permitted the scholars to enjoy the recess indoors and they formed little groups about the great stove, eating their lunch and discussing those topics which lay nearest their hearts.

“I guess my Randy knows ’most everything now,” Prue was saying.  “She has such long lessons, and studies late, and she’s seen the big stores, and she’s been to a concert full of fiddles where she saw a great big Primmy Dommy!”

“Why, what’s that?” asked little Hitty Buffum.  “Wasn’t she ’fraid when she saw the Primny what yer call it comin’?”

“I do’no,” said Prue, “she didn’t say, but whatever ’twas, I guess ’twas pretty big, my Randy said so.”

Evidently the children considered that in Boston one might see strange creatures of every type, and Randy Weston had been privileged to see one of the largest.  Just at this moment Hi Babson joined the little group.

“Want ter know what I done Saturday?” he asked, his black eyes gleaming with mischief.