At the Little Brown House

by Edward Stratemeyer

  CHAPTER VI

  THANKSGIVING DAY AT THE BROWN HOUSE

  "Gail!"

  "Yes, dear."

  Peace stood at the kitchen window looking out into the winter twilight,heavy with falling snow, but as she spoke, she turned her back on thescene without, and walked over to the table where the oldest sister wasbusy kneading bread. "Are we going to have turkey for tomorrow? It'sThanksgiving Day, you know."

  "We can't afford turkey, Peace."

  "Chicken, then?"

  "No."

  "But we keep chickens ourselves, Gail! I'll kill one for you if it'sjust 'cause you can't chop its head off."

  A smile flashed across Gail's sweet, care-worn face. "It isn't that,dear. We can't spare any. All our extra roosters we used for brothwhen--"

  "Yes, I know," interrupted the smaller sister hastily. "But haven't wegot a tough old hen that isn't good for anything else?"

  Again Gail smiled, but answered patiently, "I am afraid not, Peace. Allour hens are laying now, and eggs mean money. We can't afford to killthem."

  "Can't we buy one?"

  "There is no money."

  "Have you used up all we made selling flowers?"

  "That went long ago."

  "And the bill we found in the barn?"

  "No, dear. We don't know whose that is, or where it came from. Someonemay come along and claim it one of these days."

  "I don't see how anyone could have _lost_ that money in the barn, Gail.It was _pinned_ down to the grain sacks with a real pin. Folks don'tcarry bills around in their pockets with pins in them; and s'posing theydid, if the bills dropped out of their pockets, they wouldn't up and pin_themselves_ onto gateposts and grain sacks. Someone must have left themfor us to use. First I thought it was my tramp, and that maybe he was aprince in disgust"--she meant disguise--"but now I think it was Mr.Strong, even if he did say he had nothing to do with it."

  "Peace! Did you ask him again, after I told you not to mention it?"

  "N-o, not ezackly. I just wrote it on a piece of paper and he did thesame. You never said I mustn't _write_ it, Gail."

  "What did you write?" asked Gail, faintly.

  "I just said--well, here's the paper. I kept it 'cause he is such apretty writer."

  She drew a crumpled scrap out of her pocket, smoothed it out carefully,and passed it over to Gail. At the top of the page in Peace's childishscrawl were scribbled these words, "Didn't you reely put that muny inour barn?" Below, in Mr. Strong's firm, flowing handwriting, was theanswer, "I reely didn't." "Are you purfickly shure you aint lying justto be plite?" was the next question. "Purfickly shure." "Cross yourheart?" "Cross my heart."

  Silently Gail dropped the slip back onto the table and fell to mouldingher biscuit vigorously, biting her lips to hide a telltale smile.

  Peace watched her for a time and then began again, "Are we going to havemeat of any kind tomorrow?"

  "I am afraid not, dear."

  "What--what do you 'xpect to have?"

  "Just potatoes and cabbage and beets, I guess."

  "It will seem kind of hard to be thankful for such a dinner as that,won't it?" sighed Peace.

  "There are lots of people in the city who won't have that much--unlessthe churches and Associated Charities give them dinners."

  "I wish someone would give _us_ a turkey. I could be lots thankfullerover a drumstick than over a cabbage leaf or a beet pickle."

  "That isn't the right spirit, dear," remonstrated Gail, wondering howshe could clinch her argument with this small sister. "Thanksgiving Daywas created so we might have a special day to thank the Lord for theblessings He has given us during the year--food and clothing and homeand family."

  "Yes, teacher told us all about that, but seems to me people ought togive thanks every day instead of saving them up for a whole year andpraying them all in a lump."

  "Oh, Peace! I didn't mean that. People do thank Him every day. Don't wealways say grace when we sit down at the table? But Thanksgiving Day isa special time for giving thanks. It is in the fall after the crops areall in, and the barns are full of hay and grain, and the cellars filledwith vegetables; and we thank Him for the good harvests."

  "S'posing the harvests ain't good? We didn't get much off from our farmthis year. I am tired already of turnips and carrots."

  "What if we had no vegetables at all?"

  "Well, that would be worser, wouldn't it? I s'pose we ought to be gladfor even that."

  "Yes, dear; there is always something to give thanks for. Suppose youtake a piece of paper and write out all the things you have to bethankful for this year."

  The idea was a novel one to Peace, and after a moment of debate, shesearched out pencil and tablet, drew up an old hassock beside a chair,which she used as her table, and laboriously began to compile her listof thankfuls. She finished her task just as Gail announced the supperhour, and dropped the sheet, scribbled full of crooked letters, into themending basket, where Gail found it that evening when the three littlesisters were fast asleep in their beds. Hope was busy with her lessonsand Faith sat listlessly in front of the wheezy organ, idly playingsnatches of melody. So Gail spread the paper out on the table and readwith reverent eyes what Peace had written from the depths of her heart:

  "I am thankful cause my tramp didn't burn us up with his matches.

  "Dito (dito means I am thankful and its lots shorter to rite) cause of the muny pined to the gatepost and granesaks in the barn, but I'd be more thankful if Gale would spend it.

  "I am thankful cause Mr. Strong says our 2 angels got inside the gates all right.

  "Dito cause there ain't any more of us angels.

  "Dito cause Hector Abbott got licked for teezing lame Jenny Munn--his name just fits him.

  "Dito cause Mr. Strong is our preecher--he's got some sense.

  "Dito for his wife.

  "Dito for Towzer. He's a good dog.

  "Dito for all the rest of our family.

  "Dito cause we have some shoes to wear this winter.

  "Dito cause for carrots and beets and turnips and cabbige and potatoes. They don't take the place of turkey, but they are good vittles.

  "Dito for the hens that lay eggs so we cant kill them for Thanksgiving dinner.

  "Dito for the eggs. They meen muny, Gale says.

  "Dito for the hot biskits we are going to have for supper.

  "Dito cause this paper wont hold any more. My hand akes.

  "Amen. Peace Greenfield."

  For a long moment Gail sat with tear-dimmed eyes fixed on the queer listbefore her; then she reverently tucked the badly-written sheet awayamong her treasures, and in her heart offered up a little prayer ofthanksgiving for the blessed gift of so many sisters.

  Thanksgiving Day dawned clear and cold upon a world of dazzlingwhiteness, and with the first ray of the sun, Peace flew out of bed,scrambling into her clothes with such eager haste that Cherry opened hereyes and demanded, "What are you hurrying for? The house is cold as abarn. Gail slept late this morning, and the fire can't be more thanbeginning to burn."

  "Huh, I don't care! It snowed last night, and I'm going out to shovel,"was the scornful reply. "If you want a chance to help, you will have tohurry."

  Allee scrambled out from the warm blankets, but Cherry snuggled downcloser in the pillows with a contented grunt, and was soon lost inslumberland again, so the two youngest sisters had the wholesnow-covered world to themselves when they stepped out into the wintermorning with shovel and broom.

  "Whee! Isn't this fine!" cried Peace, whirling a cloud of featheryflakes off the porch with one sweep. "We won't need the shovel at all,the snow is so light."

  Beauty-loving Allee stopped awestruck on the threshold to drink in theglory of the winter dawn, saying slowly, "It is--it looks like--"

  "Ice-cream," finished Peace. "S'posing it was ice-cream and we couldhave all we wanted. Wouldn't we be a sick crowd by night?"
>
  The startled sister pulled on her mittens and trudged down the steps towork, and in a few minutes, the porches and paths were swept clean.

  "Wish there was more to do," sighed Allee, when they had finished theirchosen task, unwilling to go indoors even for breakfast.

  "Tell you what," cried Peace, from her perch on the gatepost. "Let's godown to the village and sweep paths for money. Perhaps we could earnenough to buy a chicken."

  "All right! Where will we go?"

  "Judge Abbott will pay us, I'm sure, and Mr. Strong would hire us, too,if he hasn't swept his own walks. Maybe Lute Dunbar isn't home yet andwe can get their paths."

  Without further discussion they sped away to town, dragging their broomsbehind them. But here disappointment awaited the small toilers, for atnearly every house some enterprising soul had already cleared away thelight snow.

  "Lute Dunbar must be at home, I guess," sighed Peace, when she beheldthe neat paths circling that house; "and Mr. Strong has swept his wholeyard, looks like. Well, Judge Abbott's porch is all covered yet. Hectoris lazy. We will try him."

  Marching up to the door, she knocked timidly, but to her dismay, no oneanswered, though three times she repeated the summons.

  "What shall we do, go back home?" asked Allee, visibly disappointed, forvisions of roast chicken were very alluring to her.

  "No," answered Peace with sudden decision. "We'll sweep his paths andcollect our pay when it is done."

  So again they fell to work making the snow fly briskly, and in a shorttime had cleared steps and walks, but apparently no one was yet stirringwithin doors.

  "Guess they are still in bed," suggested Allee. "We will have to comeback later."

  "If we are going to have chicken for dinner we ought to get it as soonas possible, so's Gail can fix it, 'cause it takes hours to cook. I'mgoing to knock again and see if I can't wake someone. It's time theywere up anyway. Rich folks do sleep an awful long time in the morning."

  Mounting the steps once more, she knocked loudly, with no result. Ahappy inspiration seized her, and picking up her broom, she tapped onthe door with the handle. No one came.

  "I don't b'lieve that is loud enough," whispered Allee. "You'd betterpound."

  "I think so myself," answered Peace, clutching the broom like abattering ram and giving the door three resounding thumps that shook thehouse from cellar to garret, and sounded like the booming of a cannon.

  "Try it again," urged impatient Allee, and again the broom struck thepanels with thunderous force, once, twice--

  The door burst open with sudden fury, and an angry-faced man in a longbathrobe confronted the paralyzed children with the fierce demand, "Whatin creation do you want?"

  "It--it's time to get up," stammered Peace. "I mean, it--it snowed lastnight. I mean, we've swep' your walks off. We s'posed you'd be glad topay us for our trouble."

  "Well!" ejaculated the man, too much surprised for further speech.

  "We've swep' real clean--better than Hector ever does."

  "Well!" repeated the Judge, an amused gleam in his eyes chasing away theangry frown. "How much do I owe you, Peace? You are Peace Greenfield,are you not?"

  "Yes, sir. A quarter will do, I think. The snow was very light, butyou've got lots of porch and walk."

  "That's a fact, we have. Here is a quarter for you, and many thanks foryour good work."

  "You are much obliged," she answered gravely, mixing her pronouns in herhaste to slip the coin inside her damp mitten. "I wish you a merryThanksgiving."

  With a whoop of delight she bounded down the steps, snatched Allee'shand, and rushed away up the street to the butcher shop for theirchicken, never pausing for breath until she had dropped the money ontothe counter before the astonished proprietor, who was making ready toclose his shop for the day. "A quarter's worth of chicken, Mr. Jones,"she panted. "I was afraid you would be gone before we could collect fromthe Judge."

  "Sorry, Peace," answered the astonished man, "but I haven't any chickensas small as that."

  "Haven't you a cheap old hen?" she faltered, almost too disappointed tospeak.

  "No, I am afraid not."

  "And you can't sell me a _piece_ of chicken?"

  "No, we never do that, either."

  "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 thecounter, and now she demanded, "Is that oysters?"

  "Yes, jimdandies."

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

  Bearing the precious burden carefully in her arms, Peace was hurryingdown the street toward home, followed by the happy Allee trailing thetwo old brooms, when they were halted by an excited, boyish voice,screaming lustily, "Peace, oh Peace! Wait a minute! I've got somethingfor you."

  She stopped short in the snow and waited impatiently for the boy toovertake her, more interested in her bucket of oysters than in theprospect of a gift from him; but as he drew near, she saw he carried twowhite, furry bundles, and her eyes grew bright with anticipation.

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

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

  "Want them? Oh, Bryan, they are the cutest things! I like pets and neverhave 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 underyour arm, Allee, and give me mine. There! I'm awful glad you broughtthem to us, Bryan. We will take real good care of them."

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

  "Gobble, gobble, gobble!"

  Allee screamed, dropped her broom and almost let go of the little whiterabbit 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 oldersister; 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 gobblerover the head. Mr. Hardman said to do that whenever he bothered us andhe would soon get tired of it." As she spoke she gathered her skirt upapron-fashion, and thrust both rabbits within the folds, while Alleesnatched up the broom, according to instructions, and made ready for theattack.

  "Gobble, gobble, gobble!" The enemy advanced rapidly, but before hecould strike either child the blue-eyed baby let the hard-wood stick flywith all her might over the fierce old head, and without another soundthe monstrous bird crumpled up in the snow.

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

  Laying down her own burdens, she seized the heavy turkey by the neck anddragged it up the path to the door of the green house. "Here's your oldbird," she chattered, when Mr. Hartman answered her knock. "He'll nevergobble again! We hit him over the head, just as you told us to, and helaid right down and died. But we never meant to kill him. If you chophis head off right away, he will be good to eat yet, for we just nowfinished him. 'F I had the money, I'd pay for him, just so's we couldhave a Thanksgiving dinner over at our house, but I spent all I had foroysters, and, besides, I s'pose likely you would charge more'n a quarterfor him. You told us to hit him, you know."

  With never a word of reply, the dazed man dragged the carcass into thehouse and shut the door, leaving Peace glaring indignantly after him."Well, that's manners," she finally sputtered, and stamped angrily awayto help Allee home with her load.

  "Here are some oysters," she announced, depositing the paper bucket onthe kitchen table.

  "We earned them shoveling Judge Abbott's porches off
. And here are BryanTenney'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 thebox until it gets warmer."

  "They will dig the whole farm up and spoil the garden when springcomes."

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

  While she hesitated, Hope entered the room, and with a cry of rapture,she snatched up one pink-nosed bunny and hid her face in its fur,exclaiming, "Oh, you darlings! Are they yours, Peace? We will fix upthat old, big box in Black Prince's stall and they will be as cosy asbabies. What shall you call them?"

  "Winkum and Blinkum," was the prompt answer. "Their noses are neverstill. Shall we fix up the box right now?" The four younger sistersgathered up the rabbits and departed for the barn. The question wassettled to their satisfaction, at least.

  In the meantime, at the Hartman house the gentle little wife was busilyplucking the mammoth gobbler, while Mr. Hartman stood idly by thekitchen window, gazing out into the winter sunshine. But his thoughtswere not idle, and when at length the great bird was stripped clean, heturned 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 thebutcher, 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 havepaid the mortgage. If they are hard up, it's their own fault."

  "Mrs. Grinnell is in position to know if anyone does. The mother'ssickness must have been terribly costly, and now they are orphans. Theyare in a bad way, I feel sure, and this turkey would come in mightyhandy."

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

  Then how they bustled in the little brown house, preparing such a dinneras they had seldom eaten before, oyster dressing, creamed carrots,mashed potatoes, gravy, and--the height of extravagance--cake andcustard, such as only Faith could make. Oh, but that was a dinner!Nevertheless, as the six hungry girls gathered around the table full ofdainties their faces were sober at the sight of the two empty chairs inthe corner, and each heart bled afresh for the mother who had left themonly a few short months before.

  Seeing the shadow in the eyes of her sisters, and feeling depressed bythe abrupt silence, Gail sought to make the sun shine again byremarking, "I am thankful for so many things, I hardly know which to putfirst; 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 forthis beautiful day. The world was so spotless and white when we woke, itseemed like angels' wings had covered up all the sin."

  "I'm thankful we have enough to eat and wear," said Cherry. "There is afamily with seven children just moved into that tumble-down old house onthe next road, and they look starved to death, to say nothing of therags and patches they wear."

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

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

  It was Thanksgiving Day at the little brown house.