THANKSGIVING DAY.
The next day was Thanksgiving. Dotty wakened in such a happy mood that it
seemed to her the world had never looked so bright before.
"I don't think, Prudy, it's the turkey and plum pudding we're going to
have that makes me so happy--do you?"
"What is it, then, little sister?"
"O, it's 'cause I dreamed I was sleeping on pin-feathers, and woke up and
found I wasn't. You'd feel a great deal better, Prudy, if you'd run away
and had such a dreadful time, and got home again."
"I don't want to try it," returned Prudy, with a smile.
"No; but it's so nice to be forgiven!" said Dotty, laying her hand on her
heart, "it makes you feel so easy right in here."
A fear came over Prudy that the little runaway had not been punished
enough. But Dotty went on:--
"It makes you feel as if you'd never be naughty again. Now, if my mamma
was always thumping me with a thimble, and scolding me so as to shake the
house, I shouldn't care; but when she is just like an angel, and forgives
me, I _do_ care."
"I'm so glad, Dotty! I think, honestly, mother's the best woman that
ever lived."
"Then why didn't she marry the best man?" asked Dotty, quickly.
"Who is that?"
"Why, Abraham Lincoln, of course." Prudy laughed.
"Yes; I suppose Mr. Lincoln was the best man that ever lived; but papa
comes next."
"Yes," said Dotty; "I think he does. And I'd rather have him for a father
than Mr. Lincoln, 'cause I'm better 'quainted with him. I shouldn't dare
kiss the President. And, besides that, he's dead."
"You're a funny girl, Dotty; but what you say is true. Everything happens
just right in this world."
"Does it?" said Dotty, wrinkling her brows anxiously; "does it,
now truly?"
"Yes, indeed, Dotty. Anybody wouldn't think so, but it does."
"Then I suppose it happens right for me to be a bad girl and run away."
"No, indeed, Dotty; because you can help it. Everything is right that we
_can't_ help; that's what I mean."
"Then I s'pose 'twas right for me to crawl through the cellar window,"
said Dotty; "for I'm sure I couldn't help it"
"O, dear me! you ask such queer questions that I can't answer them, Dotty
Dimple. All I know is this: everything happens just right in this
world--_when you can't help it_."
With which sage remark Prudy stepped out of bed, and began to dress
herself. Dotty planted her elbow in the pillow, and leaned her head
on her hand.
"I don't believe it happens just right for Mrs. Rosenberg to keep that
dog, or to thump so with a thimble; but, then, I don't know."
"I'm hurrying to get dressed," said Prudy. "The first bell has rung."
"Why, I never heard it," cried Dotty, springing up. "I wouldn't be late
to-day for anything."
Prudy looked anxiously at her little sister to see if she was cross; but
her face was as serene as the cloudless sky; she had waked up right, and
meant to be good all day. When Dotty had one of her especially good days,
Prudy's cup of happiness was full. She ran down stairs singing,--
"Thank God for pleasant weather!
Shout it merrily, ye hills,
And clap your hands together,
Ye exulting little rills.
"Thank him, bird and birdling,
As ye grow and sing;
Mingle in thanksgiving,
Every living thing,
Every living thing,
Every living thing."
Dotty was so anxious to redeem her character in everybody's eyes, that
she hardly knew what she was doing. Mrs. Parlin sent her into the kitchen
with a message to Norah concerning the turkey; but she forgot it on the
way, and stood by Norah's elbow gazing at the raisins, fruit, and other
nice things in a maze.
"What did my mamma send me here for? She ought to said it over twice.
Any way, Norah, now I think of it, I wish you please wouldn't starch my
aprons on the inside; starch 'em on the outside, 'cause they rub
against my neck."
"Go back and see what your mamma wants," said Norah, laughing.
"Why, mamma," cried Dotty reappearing in the parlor quite crestfallen--"
why, mamma, I went right up to Norah to ask her, and asked her something
else. My head spins dreadfully."
Mrs. Parlin repeated the message; and Dotty delivered it this time
correctly, adding,--
"Now, Norah, I'm all dressed for dinner; so I can do something for you
just as well as not. Such days as, this, when you have so much to do, you
ought to let me help."
To Dotty's surprise Norah found this suggestion rather amusing.
"For mercy's sake," said she, "I have got my hands full now; and when you
are round, Miss Dotty, and have one of your good fits, it seems as if I
should fly."
"What do you mean by a good fit?"
"Why, you have spells, child--you know you do--when butter wouldn't melt
in your mouth."
"Do I?" said Dotty. "I thought butter always melted in anybody's mouth.
Does it make my mouth cold to be good, d'ye s'pose?"
"La, me, I don't know," replied the girl, washing a potato vigorously.
"_I_ might wash those potatoes," said Dotty, plucking Norah's sleeve;
"do you put soap on them?"
"Not much soap--no."
"Well, then, Norah, you shouldn't put _any_ soap on them; that's why I
asked; for my mother just washes and rinses 'em; that's the proper way."
"For pity's sake," said Norah, giving the little busybody a good-natured
push. "What's going on in the parlor, Miss Dotty? You'd better run and
see. If you should go in there and look out of the window, perhaps a
monkey would come along with an organ."
"No, he wouldn't, Norah, and if he did, Prudy'd let me know."
As Dotty spoke she was employed in slicing an onion, while the tears ran
down her cheeks; but a scream from Norah caused her to drop the knife.
"Why, what is it?" said Dotty.
"Ugh! It's some horrid little _animil_ crawling down my neck."
"Let me get him," cried Dotty, seizing a pin, and rushing at poor
Norah, who tried in vain to ward off the pin and at the same time catch
the spider.
"_Will_ you let me alone, child?"
"No, no; I want the bug myself," cried Dotty, pricking Norah on
the cheek.
"Want the bug?"
"Yes; mayn't I stick him through with a pin from ear to ear? I know a
lady Out West that's making a c'lection of bugs."
"Well, here he is, then; and a pretty scrape I've had catching him;
thanks be to you all the same, Miss Dimple."
As it turned out to be only a hair-pin, Dotty shook her head in disdain,
and went on slicing onions.
"Sure now," said Norah, "I should think you'd be wanting to go and see
what's become of your sister Prudy. Maybe she's off on the street
somewhere, and never asked you to go with her."
"Now you're telling a hint," exclaimed Dotty, making a dash at a turnip.
"I know what you mean by your monkeys and things; you want to get me
away. It's not polite to tell hints, Norah; my mamma says so."
But as Dotty began to see that she really was not wanted, she concluded
to go, though she must have it seem that she went of her own accord, and
not because of Norah's "hints."
"Did you think it was a buggler, when I opened the cellar-door last
night, Norah?"
"No; I can't say as I did--not when I looked at you," replied
Norah, gravely.
"'Cause I'm going into the parlor to ask mother if _she_ thought I was a
buggler. I believe I won't help you any more now, Norah; p'rhaps I'll
come out by and by."
So Dotty skipped away; but it never occurred to her that she had been
troublesome. She merely thought it very strange Norah did not appreciate
her services.
"I s'pose she knows mother'll help her if I don't," said she to herself.
Dotty's goodness ran on with a ceaseless flow till two o'clock, when that
event took place which the children regarded as the most important one of
the day--that is, dinner.
After the silent blessing, Mr. Parlin turned to his youngest daughter,
and said,--
"Alice, do you know what Thanksgiving Day is for?"
"Yes, sir; for turkey."
"Is that all?"
"No, sir; for plum pudding."
"What do you think about it, Prudy?"
"I think the same as Dotty does, sir," replied Prudy, with a wistful
glance at her father's right hand, which held the carving knife.
"What do you say, Susy?"
"It comes in the almanac, just like Christmas, sir; and it's something
about the Pilgrim Fathers and the Mayflower."
"No, Susy; it does not come in the almanac; the Governor appoints it. We
have so many blessings that he sets apart one day in the year in which we
are to think them over, and be thankful for them."
"Yes, sir; yes, indeed," said Susy. "I _always_ knew that."
"Now, before I carve the turkey, what if I ask the question all around
what we feel most thankful for to-day? We will begin with grandmamma."
"If thee asks me first," said grandma Read, clasping her blue-veined,
beautiful old hands, "I shall say I have everything to be thankful for;
but I am most thankful for peace. Thee knows how I feel about war."
The children thought this a strange answer. They had almost forgotten
there had ever been a war.
"Now, Mary, what have you to say?" asked Mr. Parlin of his wife.
"I am thankful we are all alive," replied Mrs. Parlin, looking at the
faces around the table with a loving smile.
"And I," said her husband, "am thankful we all have our eyesight. I have
thought more about it since I have visited two or three Blind Asylums.
Susy, it is your turn."
"Papa, I'm thankful I'm so near thirteen."
Mr. Parlin stroked his mustache to hide a smile. He thought that was a
very _young_ remark.
"And you, Prudy?"
"I'm so thankful, sir," answered Prudy, reflecting a while, "so thankful
_this_ house isn't burnt up."
"Bless your little grateful heart," said her father, leaning towards her
and stroking her cheek. "For my part, I think one fire is quite enough
for one family. I confess I never should have dreamed of being thankful
we hadn't had _two_. Well, Alice, what have you to say? I see a thought
in your eyes."
"Why, papa," said Dotty, laying her forefingers together with emphasis,
"I've known what I'm thankful for, for two days. I'm thankful Mrs.
Rosenberg isn't my mother!"
A smile went around the table.
"But, papa, I am, truly. What should I want _her_ for a mother for?"
"Indeed, I see no reason, my child, since you already have a pretty good
mother of your own."
"Pretty good, papa!" said Dotty, in a tone of mild reproof. "Why, if she
was YOUR mother, you'd think she was _very_ good."
"Granted," returned Mr. Parlin.
"I don't think you'd like it, papa, to have her scold so she shakes
down cobwebs."
"Who?"
"Mrs. Rosenberg."
"Never mind, my dear; we will not discuss that woman to-day. I hope you
will some time learn to pronounce her name."
Then followed a few remarks from Mr. Parlin upon our duty to the Giver
of all good things; after which he began at last to carve the turkey.
The children thought it was certainly time he did so. They were afraid
their thankfulness would die out if they did not have something to eat
pretty soon.