Part 10 (2/2)

”They will dig the whole farm up and spoil the garden when spring comes.”

Gail was perplexed. How could she refuse the children's eager eyes? Yet clearly they could not keep the little animals. There were scarcely enough vegetables in the cellar to last the family until the winter months were over, let alone feeding a pair of hungry rabbits.

While she hesitated, Hope entered the room, and with a cry of rapture, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up one pink-nosed bunny and hid her face in its fur, exclaiming, ”Oh, you darlings! Are they yours, Peace? We will fix up that old, big box in Black Prince's stall and they will be as cosy as babies. What shall you call them?”

”Wink.u.m and Blink.u.m,” was the prompt answer. ”Their noses are never still. Shall we fix up the box right now?” The four younger sisters gathered up the rabbits and departed for the barn. The question was settled to their satisfaction, at least.

In the meantime, at the Hartman house the gentle little wife was busily plucking the mammoth gobbler, while Mr. Hartman stood idly by the kitchen window, gazing out into the winter suns.h.i.+ne. But his thoughts were not idle, and when at length the great bird was stripped clean, he turned to the woman and said, ”What are we going to do with the thing?

If they had just killed it before we dressed one for ourselves--”

”Better take it over to them. It's too late to dispose of it to the butcher, and I am afraid they will have a pretty slim dinner. Mrs.

Grinnell thinks they are badly pinched for money.”

”Sho, now, Myra Ann! It's just because they don't know how to manage.

They've got one of the best farms in this part of the country.”

”It's mortgaged, and you have the mortgage.”

”Yes, but with proper handling they ought to clear that off easily.”

”They had to sell Black Prince--”

”And got a fancy price for him, too. That alone would pretty nearly have paid the mortgage. If they are hard up, it's their own fault.”

”Mrs. Grinnell is in position to know if anyone does. The mother's sickness must have been terribly costly, and now they are orphans. They are in a bad way, I feel sure, and this turkey would come in mighty handy.”

He offered no further arguments, but a few moments later, when Gail answered a knock at the kitchen door, she found their neighbor standing there with the turkey in his arms. Almost too surprised to understand, she accepted his offering, and he was gone before she could stammer out her thanks.

Then how they bustled in the little brown house, preparing such a dinner as they had seldom eaten before, oyster dressing, creamed carrots, mashed potatoes, gravy, and--the height of extravagance--cake and custard, such as only Faith could make. Oh, but that was a dinner!

Nevertheless, as the six hungry girls gathered around the table full of dainties their faces were sober at the sight of the two empty chairs in the corner, and each heart bled afresh for the mother who had left them only a few short months before.

Seeing the shadow in the eyes of her sisters, and feeling depressed by the abrupt silence, Gail sought to make the sun s.h.i.+ne again by remarking, ”I am thankful for so many things, I hardly know which to put first; but I think I will call it friends. That will include them all.”

Faith dropped her eyes and made no attempt to speak.

Perceiving this, Hope, with hardly a pause, began, ”I am thankful for this beautiful day. The world was so spotless and white when we woke, it seemed like angels' wings had covered up all the sin.”

”I'm thankful we have enough to eat and wear,” said Cherry. ”There is a family with seven children just moved into that tumble-down old house on the next road, and they look starved to death, to say nothing of the rags and patches they wear.”

Peace was busily engaged in ”being thankful over a drumstick,” but as Cherry ceased speaking, she lifted her round eyes from her plate, and stopped chewing long enough to say, ”I am thankful my nose doesn't twitch all the time like my rabbit's, that my ears don't grow out of the top of my head, and that I don't have to hop with both feet wherever I want to go.”

Five knives and forks fell to the table with a clatter, five napkins flew simultaneously to as many faces, and five voices shrieked out a chorus of mirth.

It was Thanksgiving Day at the little brown house.

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