Jasper County Democrat, Volume 14, Number 67, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 November 1911 — minnie's Thanksgbing [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

minnie's Thanksgbing

By Donald Allen

pp.- ' I was a girl, I wouldn’t go j |Jsl|gJ| walking too far,” said old l Uncle Robert, as a girl of twenty passed him on her mm way down t° the gate of " the farm house. “And why not?” she asked, as she almost came to a pause. “Well, according to my idea, it’s going to rain and snow and blow and hail, and when the storm does break, she’s going to be a buster." “I wanted to go to the postoffice to mail a letter.” “It’s three miles there and back, and if I was you I’d put it off. Mebbe somebody’ll be passing that you can . send by. Tomorror’s Thanksgiving, j you know, and we are going to have j the awfulest, biggest, nicest dinner ! anybody ever sat down to. It’s in l your honor, you know. There’ll be a j turkey, a duck and a chicken; there’ll j be cranberry sass, pumpkin pies, currant jell, sweet cider and apple dumplins; there’ll be—” “I think 11l just walk a little ways, anyhow,” said the girl, as she opened j the gate and passed down the highj way toward the village and the railj road depot. j “And if you come home as wet as a hen don’t say I didn’t warn ye. It’s , going to come, and it’s going to be a buster.”

Half an hour later a middle-aged •woman with a motherly face and voice came out on the steps and asked: “Pa, do you reckon it’s goin’ to storm?” “Sure as ducks.” “Where’s Minnie?” “O, she’s gone for a santer. I give her warning. What’s she wantin’ to mail a letter for? I hain’t mailed a letter nor got one in twenty years, and I guess I’m about as well off as must folks. I was going to ask her but forgot It.” “Don’t you ask her a word about it,” cautioned the wife as she came down to him. “I guess Minnie’s got something on her mind, but it hain’t none o’ your business.” “Something on her mind, eh? That’s funny. Didn’t know that girls ever had anything on their minds except new clothes. Is that why she come visiting us all of a sudden?” “None o’ your business! I guess my own sister’s daughter can come and see me any time she takes a notion, and that without writing ahead. What's on her mind, as nigh as I can make out, is about a young man. They are engaged, and they’ve had a falling out, and she’s sorter run away from him to find out if he really cares for her.” "And she’s got scared about it and has written him a letter to tell where she is?” queried the husband. “Go on! It’s probably a letter to her ma, though I didn’t see it nor ask. I hope she didn’t start for town. It’s going to storm for sure, and there hain’t but one house on the road where she could find shelter. Look down the road and see if you fan see her.” ' “Can’t see hide nor hair of any girl,” reported Uncle Robert after going out to the highway and taking a long look. An hour later, with both uncle and aunt fidgeting about their girl visitor, the gray afternoon had become twilight. In 15 minutes there was cold rain and lively hail, and Uncle Robert was blown into the kitchen. Miss Minnie had reached town and ; mailed her letter and started back again when the storm broke. Before it came she thought she could make out a human figure on the road ahead of her, but wasn’t sure. The very first gust picked her up i and turned her around and deposited her under a roadside tree. She remained there until the gale began to whip the branches off, and then let go her hold -and ran for it She hadn’t gone a quarter of a mile when, as she crouched and covered her face, she was struck by a falling limb and knew no more. • '

It was the dim sight of the girl and the scream she uttered when hit, that sent the man who eras clinging to the roadside fence back into the highway. ■ He bent over the unconscious form and picked it np and staggered back to the fence and followed it until he saw a light and found the gate of a farmhouse.

His lusty calls for help soon brought out a man, and the senseless burden was carried into the house and received by a woman. “I don’t know who she is, but I found her in the road,” explained her rescuer. ‘‘There is blood on her hair, and I think she was struck down.”

“We’ll do all we oan,” replied the man and woman together, “but you mUSsTfi't look for much. We are mighty poor folks. We hain’t got no camphor nor whisky, and as for getting a doctor out from town —it can’t be done tonight." The girl was carried into the only bedroom and laid on the only bed, and when her wet clothing had been removed and she was between the sheets, the woman got a cloth and a basin of water and washed away the blood and whispered to the stranger:

“I don’t think she’s bad hurt. She’s just fainted away with the ftcare of it. When she opens her eyes I’ll tell her to go to sleep, and she’ll be all right In the morning.” “Do you think it’s some young lady from the village?” asked the stranger of the farmer as they talked in whispers in the outer room. “No, I don’t reckon so. I reckon it’s that new girl that arrived at Turner’s a few days ago. I saw her going towards the village two hours ago.” “Arrived at Turner’s! Say, man, are you sure? Is it a strange girl to the neighborhood?” ‘ I’ve heard say it was Uncle Bob’s niece, and that she come from the city. What ails you, stranger? Does this storm upset you?”

It wasn’t the storm. Percy Kincaid had quarreled with the girl he loved and had asked to be his wife. It was about nothing, almost, as most lovers’ quarrels are, but pride on either side held off a reconciliation until the lover finally learned that Miss Minnie had gone on a journey and left no word for him.

She was going to spend Thanksgiving week in the country. Within two days she had relented; within three he was making every effort to locate her, that he might patch up a peace. He had succeeded. He was going to throw himself on her mercy and ask Uncle Robert for a place at his Thanksgiving table. The storm grew fiercer as the night advanced. When another day came even the cattle could not face the storm nor man move from his door. It was Thanksgiving day. At Uncle Robert’s there was a feast to be spread;

at Bradley’s there was hardly better than poorhouse fare. But the victim of the accident was no longer in bed, and the rescuer no longer cared about the weather, and the farmer folks looked at each other and smiled and whispered: “Even if we had turkey and cranberry sauce I don’t believe they’d eat a single mouthful. They’ve just sorter found each other and are tickled to death.” And when at last they could make their way to Turner’s, and Uncle Bob stuttered and Aunt Harriet cried for joy, Miss Minnie asked in a way that was almost heartless: ..‘‘Why do you take on so? I never had such a lovely Thanksgiving in all my life!”

"I don’t believe they’d eat a single mouthful.”