Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 November 1899 — THANKSGMNG 99 [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THANKSGMNG 99

THANKSGIVING PUMPKIN PIES

B E may not be versed In history, theology and that, Bhe has never paid attention to a B sharp of A flat; I know tt’a very certain lhat the planets In the sklea Have not bothered with her skill In making luscious pumpkin plea. Bhe has never worr 1 e d ever over que tlons called obtuse. The mysteries of cy-

cling she ban had strengih to refuse; ■ha would out a aorry figure In the aoclal paradise— Sat ahe looms a perfect paragon concocting pumpkin plea. ■ar mind has never waded through the literature of gush, gar cheeks have never crimsoned other than with nature’s blush. ■ha Isn’t verged In subtle ways and fashionable Ilea— . . Bat she’* queen of all creation when ahe builds pumpkin plea. She baa not applied for membership In any cooking fad. , . , ■he baa never murmured politics to make all nature sad— Bat ahe'a mighty Intellectual In wrestling with the ties . . ■anwnndlng the arranging of Thanksgiving pumpkin pies.

«rt ES, I come out better with 'em \/ than I expected,” said Phoebe Podd across the barnyard fence to bar neighbor, Mrs. Tripp, who said: *They’a as fine a lot o’ turkeys as I ever we, Misa Podd, and you’d great luck to 4o so well with ’em. Turkeys are dreadful hard things to raise. Don’t you think •or “Yea, they be; an’ I do’no as I shall *t« try It again. They need so much eoddlin’ when they’re little things an’ they eat so much 1 doubt if it pays to bother with ’em. But 1 thought I’d try It once Just to see how I come out, an’ I didn’t lose a single one. One of ’em had the pips, too; but I coddled it through all right.” “You’ll sell some of ’em at Thanksglvtag time, I s’poseV” “Oh, yes; 1 collate on selling all but that young gobbler, an’ I’m goin’ to eat him I’m short of grain and it won’t pay ate to buy feed for a lot of turkeys. They’d eat their heads off in six weeks.” “Yet, I s’pose so. Who you goin’ to have for comp’ny Thanksgivln’?” “I ain’t quite sure yet; but I guess It won’t be hard to git someone to come in aa’ help eat a plump, juicy young gobbler like that.” “No, Indeed. We’re all goin’ over to Hebron to eat dinner with my husband’a •later. They’re goin’ to have a big fam’Jy reunion there, an’ sister counts on havta’ over forty to dinner.” “It must be nice to have that many •wn folks,” said Miss Phoebe, with a algh. “Here I ain’t got any kin at all.” “There’a your cousin Thyrxa,” said Tripp. “I don’t count her ns kin,” aald Phoebe Podd coldly, and she manifested her resentment of Mrs. Tripp’s suggestion by turning about abruptly and walking into the houae, while Mrs. Tripp walked down the country road toward her own home, aaylng to herself: “If ever there was a set piece Phoebe Podd is one. There’a aobody on earth she’d ought to have and she’d like to have help her to eat that young gobbler as Thyrxa Deane and her boye, but she’d die, Phoebe Podd would, before she’d own np to it.” Miaa Podd lived on a profitable little farm left to her by her parents, who had also left her cash and stock enough to make her one of the “best off" women In tbe neighborhood in which she lived. She lived alone, with tbe exception of a hired man.

Hits Podd and her cousin Thyrza bad keen more like sisters than cousins in tlieir intimacy until a trifling disagreement had resulted in their'complete estrangement, and it had been fire years ■luce they had spoken to each other. Mrs. Deane had become a widow during these five years, and she had been reduced from a state of ease and plenty to •ne of hardship and poverty. But these facta had apparently made no difference with Phoebe Podd, for she coutinued to ■tterly ignore the existence of her cousin. “I’d like to see myself asking Thyrza Deane and her young oues to come and help me eat that turkey!" said Miss Podd apitefully as she went into her spotless kitchen and banged the door behind her. "I’ve a good mind never to speak to Sarah Tripp again for mentioning the same of Thyrza Deane to me!” Three days before Thanksgiving Miss Podd engaged the services of Jane Gray, a woman who “worked out” in the neighborhood. and the two women dressed the entire flock of turkeys for market after Job, the hired man, bad done duty as a batcher. The plump young gobbler alone was spared, but his end was to come on Thanksgiving day. “Although it’d be a mercy to kill him sow,” said Mlsa Podd to Jane Gray, "he'll feel so lonely without his mates. I’U have Job kill 'im early Thanksgiving morning and hut 'im in the ice house to coat off ’font I roast 'im, an’ I dost think I’ll bare any one her* this Tbanksgivin*. I ain’t feelin’ right well an’ 1 'don’t feet able to fuss ’round gettin’ up a big diuaer. I don’t seem to bare any interest la Thanksgiving this year/’

But her Interest was aroused when Job came in on Thanksgiving morning, and informed Miss Podd that the young gobbler was not to be found. "I’ve looked high and low for ’im, ma'am; an’ he ain’t to be found nowheres. I’ve my s’picions where he went.” ‘‘You have? Well, why don’t you com* out an’ say what you think?" asked Miss Podd irritably. “I think he was stolen, ma’am.” ‘‘lt looks like it,” said Miss Podd. “An’ I’ve my s’picions who stole ’im.” “Who?" “Well, I met that oldest boy of the Widow Deane’s in the woods near your barn last evening just at dusk an’ he had a white an’ black turkey gobbler slung over his shoulders. He made off mighty fast when he saw me. I never thought anything about it until I come to look up your turkey this morning, and couldn't find him.” “And you ain’t seen my turkey since you saw Joe Deane with a gobbler like mine on his back?” “No, ma'am. The last I saw of your turkey was about 4 o’clock yesterday afternoon when I see ’im goin' out toward the timber back o’ the barn. It’s my opinion that the Deane boy swiped that gobbler." Miss Podd was in just the right mood to be easily led to this same conclusion, and her wrath knew no bounds when she had finally decided that Job was correct in his surmise.

“Yes,” she said finally, “that boy nabbed my turkey, an’ he probably did it out of pure spite. But then he bad a great uncle on the Deane side who was once urrested for stealin’ an’ the failin’ has prob’ly cropped out in Thyrza’s children. Bnt she’ll wish she’d raised ’em better ’fore night. I ain’t crossed her doorstep for nlost six years, but I’ll cross it today an’ tell her to her face what I think of this performance. I’ll tell her something that’ll make that turkey taste mighty bitter in her mouth, now see if I don’t!” w#*. It was a raw, cold and sunless day. Miss Podd’s anger had made her forget that she was not feeling well, and soon after noon she set forth from her own snug and pretty hojne to visit the far from attractive and comfortable home in which her cousin lived. There had no money for repairs of any kind on the Deane place and Miss Podd relented a very little bit as she noted the forlorn aspect of the place. But she was determined to carry through what she had undertaken. It was unlike the Podds to swerve from any fixed resolution, and Miss Podd’s face wore a hard, grim, resolute look as she knocked at the Deane’s back door. “I’ll face ’em when they’re in the very act of eatin’ my turkey,” she had said to Job. “I’ll make that turkey change from sweet to bitter in their mouths!” Someone called out “Come in,” and Misa Podd entered the Deane kitchen just aa Mrs. Deane and her five children had aeated themselves at a table on which there was no sign of a turkey or of a Thanksgiving feast of any kind. A plate of corned beef and a dish of boiled potatoes were the chief didhes on the table. Mra. Deane’s surprise when she saw who her caller was was manifest in her face. “Why—Cousin Phoebe!” she said. Misa Podd’s sharp eyes took in at a glance the poorly spread table and the air of poverty the Interior of the house presented, and her first words were: “Well, Thyrza Deane, ia this the best

Thanksgiving dinner you’re able to have?” “Yes, it is, Phoebe,” said Mrs. Deane with a blush. “It’s so poor, Phoebe, that Pin ashamed to ask you to share it.” “Where’s the turkey Joe brought home last night?” asked Thoebe. “We sold it. It was one he earned huskin' corn all day for Andy Tetlow, and we were too poor to keep it for ourselves, so I dressed it and Joe took It to town after dark last night and exchanged it for things we needed more than we needed the turkey.” There was silence in the room for a moment and then Miss Podd burst out impetuously: “I ain’t fit to live! No. I ain’t! Pm too miserably mean an' narrow contracted to be respectable even! I'm ” “Why. Cousin Pbnrbe, I *■ “You jest keep still. Thyrza. an’ hear me out! You know what l come here for? Hey? No. you don’t, an’ you ain't meaa-tsisded enough to guess! 1 come here to accuse your boy Joe of stcaiin’ a turkey from me! I ” “Why. Pboebe-r— ** “Yon keep still. Thyrza. an’ hear me out. an’ then order me out if yon feel •ike it. A young gobbler I had was mistin' this moinin’ an* Job. my hired man. saw your Joe f»du* home las’ night with

a turkey on his back, an’ I waa mean enough to make myself think it waa my turkey, an’ here you are eatin’ a Thankaglvin’ dinner of corned beef an’ potatoes, an’ more thankful for it, I’ll be bound, than I am for all the good things I’ve got in my cellar an’ pantry!, I’m bo ashamed of myself!” “Why, Phoebe!” “But this is what you’ve got to do, Thyrza; you an’ the children most go right home with me an’ keep Thanksgivln’. I’ll kill a >air o’ chickens an’ we’ll make a big potpie like we bad the last time you et your Thanksgjyin' dinner with me. I’ve piles of pie an’ cookies an’ doughnuts an’ a big pound cake all baked up! You’ve got to go, Thyrsa, for the sake of old times! Come on an’ welcome to you all!” There was no opposing Miss Podd and in fifteen minutes they were all on their way to her house, the two cousins walking arm in arm. When they reached Miss Podd’s house Job met them with a grin on his face. ‘That young gobbler’s a good one,” said Job. “I reckon he thought he’d be smart enough to save his neck. I found him just now in the shed room. The winder was up an’ I reckon he flew in there last night an’ he'found it so comfortable he concluded to stay right there, ’speshly as there was a bag of corn there.” “Well, you get his head right off an’ put him in the ice house to cool off,” said Miss Podd. “Our dinner’ll be late, Thyrza, but I’ll set out a good lunch to kind o’ stay our stummicks an’ then you an’ I will pitch in an’ git up one o’ the reg’lar Thanksgivin’ dinners like we used to git up ’fore we was geese enough to fall out. But we’ve fell in again, as it were, an’ it won’t be my fault if we don’t stay friends the rest of our days.”—Detroit Free Press.

“IT’D BE A MERCY TO KILI, HIM.”