THANKSGIVING DAY
ONE might have thought, watching the pillow-fight which went on that
night at bedtime, that the fairy-tale had been told too soon. The five
girls, romping and shrieking through halls and bedrooms as the sport
went on, fast and furious, seemed too young for its grave lessons. But
"the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts," even when its actions
are most childish and careless, and the little tale made a deeper
impression than the teller of it realized.
For one thing, Betty laid aside the book she was writing, although she
had secretly cherished the hope of having the story of Gladys and Eugene
published sometime during the coming year.
"I might be ashamed of it when I am grown," she explained, quoting old
Hildgardmar: "''Tis but a little mantle thou couldst weave this year, at
best, fit but to clothe the shoulders of yon curly shepherd lad.' If I
am to outgrow my ideals as I do my dresses, I ought to wait. I want the
critics to say of me 'Thou waitedst till thy woman's fingers wrought the
best that lay within thy woman's heart.' So I'll lay the book aside for
a few years, till I've learned more about people. But I'll write it some
day."
It was that same night, while they were getting ready for bed, that the
Shadow Club was disbanded.
"I nevah want to heah that name again," exclaimed Lloyd, shaking out her
hair and beginning to brush it. "It was so disgraced by being dragged
into the newspapahs with such a lie, that it almost makes me ill
whenevah I think of it."
"Oh, you don't want to give up the work for the mountain people, do
you?" asked Allison, in dismay.
"No, but I'd like to stop until aftah the holidays. We have so much to
do getting ready for Christmas. Besides, I'd like to be able to tell the
girls that there wasn't such a club any moah. The next term we could
make a fresh start with a new name, just the five of us."
"Oh, let's call it 'The Order of Hildegarde!'" cried Betty,
enthusiastically. "And all the time we are doing 'broidery and fair
needlework' to sell for the mountain people, we can be trying to weave
our ideals as Hildegarde did, so that we may not miss the happiness that
is written for us in the stars."
"I'd like that," exclaimed Allison, entering into the new plan eagerly.
"We could have club colours this time, gold and rose, the colour of the
warp and woof, you know."
"Yes, yes! That's it!" assented Kitty, with equal enthusiasm. "Streamers
of narrow gold and rose ribbon, pinned by a tiny gilt star, to remind us
of what is written in the stars. Don't you think that would be lovely,
Katie?"
"Yes," answered Katie, "but I think if we want to keep the order a
secret we oughtn't to wear such a badge in public. It would be safer to
keep them in our 'inner rooms.' But we could use them in all sorts of
ways, the ribbons crossed on our pincushions, or streamers of them to
tie back our curtains, or broad bands on our work-baskets and
embroidery-bags."
Lloyd gave ready assent. "That would suit me, for my room at home is
already furnished in rose colah. All I would have to do is to add the
gold and the sta'hs."
"And mine is a white and gold room," said Betty. "I'll only have to give
it a few touches of rose colour."
A few more words settled the matter, as the girls hovered around the
fire in their night-dresses, and then the establishment of the new Order
of Hildegarde was celebrated by a pillow fight, the like of which for
noise and vigour had never before been known at The Beeches.
In the hard work that followed after their return to school, time
slipped by so fast that Thanksgiving Day came surprisingly soon. Nearly
all the pupils and teachers went home for the short vacation, or visited
friends in Louisville. Even the president and his wife went away. Only
six girls besides Lloyd and Betty were left to follow the matron to
church on Thanksgiving morning.
It was a lonesome walk. A Sabbath-like stillness pervaded the quiet
Valley, and the ringing of the bell in the ivy-grown belfry of the
little stone church, and the closed doors at the post-office, gave the
girls the feeling that Sunday had somehow come in the middle of the
week. As they crossed the road toward the iron gate leading into the
churchyard, Lloyd looked up past the manse toward The Beeches, hoping
for a glimpse of the Walton girls. Then she remembered that Allison had
told her that they were all going to town to celebrate the day with her
Aunt Elise, and the feeling of being left out of everybody's good times
began to weigh heavily upon her.
No smoke was coming out of any of the chimneys, either at The Beeches or
Edgewood. When she thought of Locust, also cold and empty, with no fire
on its hospitable hearths, no feast on its ample table, no cheer
anywhere within its walls, and her family far away, a wave of
homesickness swept over her that brought a mist over her eyes. She could
scarcely see as they went up the steps.
Mrs. Bond, with her usual dread of being late, had hurried them away
from the seminary much too soon. Not more than half a dozen carriages
had driven into the grove around the little country church when they
reached the door, and only a few people were waiting inside. As Lloyd
sat in the solemn silence that was broken only now and then by a stifled
cough or the rustle of a turning leaf, she had hard work to battle back
the tears. But with a sudden determination to overcome such a feeling,
she sat up very straight in the end of the pew, and pressed her lips
together hard.
"It's almost wicked of me," she thought, "to feel so bad about the one
thing I can't have when there are a thousand other things that ought to
make me happy. It's only a pah't of my bo'ding-school experiences, and
will be ovah in a little while. I don't suppose anybody in church has
moah to be thankful for than I have."
She glanced furtively across the aisle. "I'm thankful that I'm not that
old Mistah Saxon with his wooden leg, or that poah little Mrs. Crisp in
the cawnah, with five children to suppo't, and one of them a baby that
has fits."
Her gaze wandered down the opposite aisle. "And I'm suah it's something
to be thankful for not to have a nose like Libbie Simms, or such a fussy
old fathah as Sue Bell Wade has to put up with. And I'm glad I haven't
such poah taste as to make a rainbow out of myself, wearing so many
different colahs at once as Miss McGill does. Five different shades of
red on the same hat are enough to set one's teeth on edge. I believe I
could go on all day, counting the things I'm glad I haven't got; and as
for the things I have--" She began checking them off on her finger-tips.
There was a handful before she had fairly begun to count; home, family,
perfect health, the love of many friends, the opportunities that filled
every day to the brim.
The organist pulled out the stops and began playing an old familiar
chant as a voluntary. As the full, sweet chords filled the church Lloyd
could almost hear the words rising with the music:
"My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life."
As the music swelled louder, her counting was interrupted by the opening
of the door and the entrance of several generations of the Moore family,
who had come back to Oaklea for a Thanksgiving reunion. It seemed good
to Lloyd to see the old judge's white head gleaming like silver in its
accustomed pew. His benign face fairly radiated cheerfulness and
good-will as he took his place once more among his old neighbours.
Rob walked just behind him, so tall and erect, it seemed to Lloyd that
he must have grown several inches in the three short months since they
had cut the last notches in the measuring-tree. As he turned to throw
his overcoat across the back of the seat, his quick glance spied Lloyd
and Betty several pews in the rear, and he flashed them a smile of
greeting. At the same time, so quickly and deftly that Mrs. Bond did not
see the motion, he held up a package that he had carried in under his
overcoat, and instantly dropped it out of sight again on the seat. Then
he straightened himself up beside his grandfather, as if he were a model
of decorum.
[Illustration: "'IT'S LIKE A BIT OF HOME TO SEE YOU AGAIN.'"]
Lloyd and Betty exchanged a meaning glance which seemed to say, "That
five-pound box of Huyler's best he promised us;" and Lloyd found herself
wondering several times during the long service how he would manage to
present it. That problem did not worry Rob, however. As the congregation
slowly moved down the aisles and out into the vestibule, he elbowed his
way to Mrs. Bond, standing beside her eight charges like a motherly old
hen.
"Good morning, Mrs. Bond," he exclaimed, in his straightforward, boyish
way. "You're going to take me under your wing and let me walk to the
gate with Betty and Lloyd, aren't you! I'll be as good as grandfather if
you will, and I'll even take him along if it's necessary to have anybody
to vouch for me."
His mischievous smile was so irresistible that she gave him a motherly
pat on the shoulder. "Run along," she exclaimed, laughingly. "I'll
follow presently. There are several people I want to speak to first."
"Oh, Rob," exclaimed Lloyd, as he started down the avenue beside her
and Betty. "It's like a bit of home to see you again. Talk fast and tell
us everything. Do you think you'll pass in Latin? Is it decided whethah
you're to go East to school aftah Christmas? Did you see that awful
piece in the papah about our club?"
She poured out her questions so rapidly that they were half-way to the
seminary before he could answer all her catechism, and then he had so
many to ask her that she almost forgot to tell him about the box they
had received from Locust that morning.
"A suah enough Thanksgiving-box!" she exclaimed gleefully. "Just as if
we'd really been away off from home at school, with all the good things
that Mom Beck could think of or Aunt Cindy could cook, from a turkey to
a monstrous big fruit-cake. Mothah planned the surprise before she went
away. Think of the gay midnight suppahs we could have if we hadn't
turned ovah a new leaf and refawmed."
"So you've reformed!" he repeated. "Then boarding-school life can't seem
as funny to you as you thought last September it was going to be."
"Yes, it does," protested Betty. "I'll be glad when the next four weeks
are over so that we can go back to Locust, but excepting only two or
three things that happened, I've enjoyed every minute that we've been
at the seminary. I'll always be glad that we had this experience."
"And it wasn't at all like you said it would be," added Lloyd,
laughingly, "'scorched oatmeal and dried apples and old cats watching at
every keyhole.' There was some eavesdropping, but it wasn't the teachahs
who did it, and we had moah fun getting even with the girl who did than
I could tell in a week. I'll tell you about our playing ghost, and all
the rest, when you come out Christmas."
"Then I'll have to hand over the candy," he said. "You've earned it, if
you've stood the strain this long and kept as hale and hearty as you
look."
They had reached the high green picket gate by this time, and,
delivering the box to the girls, with a few more words he left them.
Dinner was to be early at Oaklea, he said, as they were all going home
on the five o'clock train.
"Oh, it was just like having a piece of home to see him again,"
exclaimed Lloyd, looking after him wistfully as he lifted his cap and
walked rapidly away. "I can hardly wait to get back now. Wouldn't you
like to walk up to Locust aftah dinnah, Betty?"
"No, I believe not," was the hesitating reply. "It would make me feel
more homesick than if I stayed away altogether. Mom Beck will be off
keeping holiday somewhere, and everything will be shut up and
desolate-looking. Probably all we'd see would be Lad and Tarbaby out in
the pasture. Let's walk over to Rollington instead, after dinner, and
take a lot of things to that poor little Mrs. Crisp out of our box from
home."
"How funny for you to think of the same thing that I did this mawning in
church!" exclaimed Lloyd. "The text made me think of it, and when I
looked across at her in that pitiful old wispy crape veil, and thought
of the washing she has to do, and the baby with the fits, I was so
thankful that I was not in her place that I felt as if I ought to give
her every penny I possess."
It was a very quiet day. A better dinner than usual, and the long walk
over to Rollington late in the afternoon was all that made it differ
from the Sundays that they had spent at the seminary. But as the two
little Good Samaritans trudged homeward over the frozen pike, swinging
their empty basket between them, Lloyd exclaimed, "I've had a good time
to-day, aftah all, and I would have been perfectly misah'ble if I'd gone
on the way I stah'ted out to do--thinking about the one thing I wanted
and couldn't have. I just _made_ myself stop, and go to thinking of the
things I did have, and then I forgot to feel homesick. Counting yoah
blessings and carrying turkey to poah folks doesn't sound like a very
exciting way to spend yoah holidays, but it makes you feel mighty good
inside, doesn't it! Especially when you think how pleased Mrs. Crisp
was."
"Yes," answered Betty. "I don't know how to express the way the day has
made me feel. Not happy, exactly, for when I'm that way I always want to
sing." She held her muff against her cold face. "It's more like a big,
soft, furry kind of contentment. If I were a cat I'd be purring."