Amy Brooks

Randy's Summer: a Story for Girls Amy Brooks

Publisher Marketing: "Randy! Randy! where are you?" came in shrill, high-pitched tones from the kitchen. The girl on the wooden seat just outside the door neither moved nor heeded, so engrossed in her book was she. "Ran-dee!" This time there was a rising inflection on the last syllable. Slowly the girl's forefinger followed along the line which she was reading. A quick step across the kitchen, and a tall, angular woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her blue-checked apron. "Why, Randy Weston! Here I've been callin' and callin' to you, and you're right here at the door and never heard at all, I'll warrant you. What's that you're readin'?" "Oh, mother, I'm sorry I didn't hear you," said Randy, her face still aglow with the thought of the fascinating tale; "but the story was so wonderful that I never knew you called me." "Must have been wonderful," said Mrs. Weston, smiling. "What sort of a book is it, and where did you get it?" "Why, it's the one I told you I found in the field back of the barn," said Randy. "It's all about kings and queens, and princes and fairies, and goblins, and oh, it's just the most wonderful book you ever saw!" "I hope it's a good book," said Mrs. Weston, doubtfully; "it sounds kind of outlandish, and I know one thing, I never have to call twice when I give you 'Pilgrim's Progress' or Fox's 'Book of Martyrs' to read." "But, mother, just see the pictures! Here's the one that shows when the prince rode on the horse which was shod with golden shoes, and could run faster than the wind!" That was too much for practical Mrs. Weston.