Part 10 (1/2)

”Oh, dear,” sighed Allee. ”We swep' that walk all for nothing!”

But Peace's bright eyes had caught sight of a tall, wooden bucket on the counter, and now she demanded, ”Is that oysters?”

”Yes, jimdandies.”

”That's next best to chicken. I'll take a quarter's worth of them. We will have a Thanksgiving after all, Allee.”

Bearing the precious burden carefully in her arms, Peace was hurrying down the street toward home, followed by the happy Allee trailing the two old brooms, when they were halted by an excited, boyish voice, screaming l.u.s.tily, ”Peace, oh Peace! Wait a minute! I've got something for you.”

She stopped short in the snow and waited impatiently for the boy to overtake her, more interested in her bucket of oysters than in the prospect of a gift from him; but as he drew near, she saw he carried two white, furry bundles, and her eyes grew bright with antic.i.p.ation.

”Surely not your bunnies, Bryan?” she gasped.

”Yep! We are going to move back to the city on Monday, and papa said I must leave these here. They will starve with no one to take care of them, and you always thought they were so pretty, I decided to give them to you--that is, if you want them.”

”Want them? Oh, Bryan, they are the cutest things! I like pets and never have had any all of my very own, 'cept the chicken Mr. Hardman stole.

Give one to Allee, and I will carry the other. Tuck your broom under your arm, Allee, and give me mine. There! I'm awful glad you brought them to us, Bryan. We will take real good care of them.”

Once more the sisters trudged on their way, happily excited and eager to show their new possessions to the family at home.

”Gobble, gobble, gobble!”

Allee screamed, dropped her broom and almost let go of the little white rabbit in her fear. ”Oh, Peace, he's after us again and we can't run!”

”Maybe he won't touch us if we don't look at him,” began the older sister; but the old gobbler, with ruffled feathers and wattles flaming, came straight toward them, and Peace stopped with a jerk.

”Drop your bunny in my skirt, Allee, grab that broom and hit the gobbler over the head. Mr. Hardman said to do that whenever he bothered us and he would soon get tired of it.” As she spoke she gathered her skirt up ap.r.o.n-fas.h.i.+on, and thrust both rabbits within the folds, while Allee s.n.a.t.c.hed up the broom, according to instructions, and made ready for the attack.

”Gobble, gobble, gobble!” The enemy advanced rapidly, but before he could strike either child the blue-eyed baby let the hard-wood stick fly with all her might over the fierce old head, and without another sound the monstrous bird crumpled up in the snow.

”Mercy!” screamed Peace. ”You've killed him! There, don't cry! Hold your coat for the rabbits while I tote this thing up to Hardman's house. I told you to hit him, but Mr. Hardman told us, too.”

Laying down her own burdens, she seized the heavy turkey by the neck and dragged it up the path to the door of the green house. ”Here's your old bird,” she chattered, when Mr. Hartman answered her knock. ”He'll never gobble again! We hit him over the head, just as you told us to, and he laid right down and died. But we never meant to kill him. If you chop his head off right away, he will be good to eat yet, for we just now finished him. 'F I had the money, I'd pay for him, just so's we could have a Thanksgiving dinner over at our house, but I spent all I had for oysters, and, besides, I s'pose likely you would charge more'n a quarter for him. You told us to hit him, you know.”

With never a word of reply, the dazed man dragged the carca.s.s into the house and shut the door, leaving Peace glaring indignantly after him.

”Well, that's manners,” she finally sputtered, and stamped angrily away to help Allee home with her load.

”Here are some oysters,” she announced, depositing the paper bucket on the kitchen table.

”We earned them shoveling Judge Abbott's porches off. And here are Bryan Tenney's rabbits. He has given them to us for keeps.”

”Well, you can march them straight back,” declared Faith, with energy.

”Where do you expect to keep rabbits on this place?”

”In a box of hay in the barn. We may keep them, mayn't we, Gail?”

”They will die of cold,” protested Faith.

”We won't let them. There are lots of gunny sacks we can cover over the box until it gets warmer.”