Rensselaer Republican, Volume 26, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 November 1893 — A THANKSGIVING STORY. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A THANKSGIVING STORY.

BY MATTIE DYER BRITTS.

H DO FOR GOOD'ness’ sake, Miss ’Nelope, say you can fix it for me, by Thursday > —can’t you?” Miss Hastings smiled into the pretty

face under the thatch of golden yellow hair, which looked up from the low sewing chair by her work-table, and answered: - “I might if - I work fast, Katie. Is there any special need for the dress by Thursday?” “Oh, yes, indeed, there is! Why, don’t you know it is Thanksgiving Day? And here I was in the country, and never knew that I was in-* vited to the great party at Judge Blair’s until I came home last night. I haven’t a thing fit to wear, except this blue—and not that, unless you can alter it for me.” “Well, I’ll try, Katie,” said the good-naturedJittle dressmaker. Katie Allen could always find the soft spot in Miss Penelope’s heart — because she* remembered her own happy youth, not-so far away, even now. “I had forgotten Thanksgiving Day was so near,” she added, with a little sigh. ‘ ‘And so there is to be a party at the Judge’s?” .r “Yes, a splendid one! In honor of the Judge’s brother, who has been out West, this ever so long. He has come back as rich as a Jew, and unmarried, so of course all the girls are ready to pull caps for him. Why, you must know him, Miss 'Nelope’s!—l remember you used to visit at the Judge’s—why don’t you now? I wonder why you were not Invited to the party? But perhaps you were?” “No, I was not,” said Miss Penelope, quietly, answering the questioning glance as much as the words. “I do not care for parties n’ow-a-flays. ” “Oh, well, I suppose one doesn’t, when one gets .old, and —oh! Forgive me'” suddenly cried Katie, catching a slight change in the face of the little dressmaker. “I didn’t mean that, indeed I didn’t, Miss 'Nelope! You are not old at all, and just as pretty as—- “ There, Katie, let it go,” put in Miss Penelope, “lam thirty, and never was a beauty.” “But you are as nice as can be, and I’m awfully sorry I said ' that!” cried Katie, rising to throw her plump arms around her friend’s ' neck, and gave her a hearty kiss. “I think you ought to have been invited to the Judge's, and I mean to tell Mrs. Blair so.” “No, no! You must not think of Buch a thing!” hastily cried Miss Hastings. “I would not have you 3o it for anything, Katie.” “Well, I won’t, then. But it's oeanall the same! Dear me! I’ve yot to go ’way down to Pine Street, lor mamma, before dark,, aid here I im wasting my time talking nonsense! When shall I come for the Iress, please?” “You can have it to-morrow evening. Let me take your jkirt measure, once more.” Miss Penelope stooped with her tape-line, took the length of the pretty figure, and the round waist, and turned to her flresser, as Katie tripped out. She stood soberly looking at the reflection of herself in the glass, for a moment. “Yesl” she said, musingly, pushing the abundant brown hair back from a broad, clear brow, “I am thirty years old, and not a beauty." Perhaps she was not really hand»ome, but there was an expression io sweet and womanly in her face, that strangere always turned for a second glance, and little children 'oved and trusted her without question. “It is no wonder that Bociety has forgotten me,” She went on, after a moment's study of her shadow, “I dare say Harvey Blair has done the same.” She sighed again, then sat herself town to her work, and tried to forget, on her own part, the happy lays which “once had been, but were no more.” Six years ago she had been the petted daughter of a rich man —a 1 Belle in the society which now passed ner door, or only stopped to engage ler skillful fingers to heip drape choir own dainty forms for conquest. Harvey Bl a r was iLore than a friend io her, then —he was almost her A little quarrel between them, a little pride—no, a good deal of pride on her part, separated them, and he went off to Oregon. Then her father failed, sickened and died, and she was left to fight the world alone. She had the tiny cottage where she lived, left her, of all their wealth. There she betook herself, and went to work for her support; and here she was, yet living alone, sewing away to keep the wolf out, and having neither time nor thought for dreams of love. “Nothing in the world but an old maid dressmakerl” she repeated, dashing the rebellious tears from her bright eyes. “Why should they want me at a party* I wouldn’t even be missed if I didn't go to church, on Thanksgiving Day. But lam not a heathen, so I'll go, and be thankful for what little I have. It might be worse, mightn’t it, Topsy?” She stooped to stroke the beautiful Maltese cat, which was her chief Det and companion, and Topsy purred contentedly, as if to say she didn't care if all the Harvey Blairs tn the world came home, they

wouldn’t disturb her peace of mind one bit! Miss Penelope resolved the same thing, but she-didn’t succeed as well as Topsy did. All day the noble, manly face of Harvey Blair came between her and the blue silk of Katie’s dress, and when at last she fell asleep at night, it was with her still in dreams. Next day she determined that it should not be so. “I’ll do something to occupy my mind,” she said to herself—“ Let’s see? Why shouldn’t I have a Thanksgiving dinner? I’ve got money enough—yes, I will. Then I’ll ask Ellen Tenney home from church with me, and we’ll have a sociable time together —two old maids; who don’t care a fig for anybody else!” So, when her work was done, Miss Penelope put on her cloak and shawl, and went down to the grocery where she usually- traded. She bought a small turkey, a pint of cranberries, a crisp bunch of celery some fresh eggs for her cake, and a little basket of grapes.. “As well be right extravagant, for once!” she smilingly told herself. And when Mr. Figgs remarked, in his hearty way: “Mus’ be goin’ to hev’ company, Mis’ ’Nelope?" she answered: “I am —I’m going to give a Thanksgiving dinner, Mr. Figgs.” “That’s right, ma’am,” responded the jovial grocer. When she went

out, he added, to his clerk: “Anybody ’d ought t’ be thankful for the privilege o v eatiu’ dinner with her; she’s a mighty nice little soul!” “Yes, sir,” agreed the young clerk, with a grin. “I wouldn’t a’ keered es she’d a’ invited me!” As Miss Penelope hurried down the street in the falling dusk, she heard a quick, firm tread behind her, and presently a gentleman passed her. He wi.s tall, broad of shoulder, and well wrapped from the keen, frosty air, his head bent, and his face shaded by his hat, but she knew him! She shrank close to the wall, lest Harvey Blair should recognize her, and almost flew home, when he had gone on. She had seen him! And she sat alone with Topsy, the night before Thanksgiving, and cried like a baby for its mother. But she rose early next morning, and tidied up her tiny cottage, until it shone, before she got her lonely breakfast. That over, she cleared away the dishes, and began to prepare her Thanksgiving dinner, in a sweet, cheerful spirit. “Why, I have ever so much more than Ellen Tenney has to be thankful for!” she told herself, with a smile. “I’m well, and she is always lame, poor thing! 1 own my home, and she has nothing. I have all the work I can do, and by the time I am too old to work, I shall have a nice little sum laid by; so what’s the use of fretting? I’ll keep the day like a Christian, and trust the Lord with the i est of it!” She set her little table for two, draping it with a fine, snowy cloth, and bring out the few bits of fine old silver which had come to her with the remnant of better fortunes. She dressed the turkey, and set it in the oven, with just fire sufficient to brown it nicely, while she was at church; peeled the potatoes, ground the coffee, and got everything ready to dish up as quickly as possible, after she should return with Ellen Tanney, even to placing the crisp celery and rich crimson cranberries on the table near the flaky mince pie and frosty cake, and the. little glass of amber jelly which she had made when her early apples ripened, out in the little yard, Thea she dressed herself for church, and when the second bell rung, she took her seat among the

worshippers, a sweet, modest little soul as sat within the sacred, walk, that frosty Thanksgiving morning. But Ellen Tenhey was not there, for once. She could not be her guest for that dainty dinner—and who else to invite, Miss Penelope could not make up" her mind. She was actually afraid to invite any of the young girls, for fear they would laugh at her. She did make bold to ask Mrs. Gregg, the Doctor’s wife, and received the answer that Mrs. Gregg would be delighted to go, if she had not already promised to go home with the Doctor’s mother. The little dressmaker walked out of church alone. She went home alone, and entered the cosy cottage. The fragrant odor of the browning turkey greeted her, and so did the lonesome little table set for two. “No use, Maltie! We must touuh it out by ourselves! We’ll have our dinner, and then I’ll take the rest in a basket over to poor Mrs. Moran; she and her half dozen children can -get away with it; I’ll answer for it that she has not been in-vited to Thanksgiving dinner; nobody wants poor washerwomen, nor poor little old maids, do they, Kitty?” Kitty purred, and rubbed her mistress’ dress with her great bushy tail, as if to say that “she did not know—but a wing of that turkey would be very good, she thought!” “All right —pretty soon, my pet!” said Miss Penelope, taking off her

bonnet, and getting the potatoes to boil, while she tucked the pan of light rolls in the oven, and beat up the flour for the rich gravy. When these things were all done, and she could only wait for the oven and kettle to finish the work, she sat down a bit. And some way, she could not keep the tears from running down her cheeks and falling on her lap, She meant to be very thankful, tried to be; but then she thought of the merry groups around glowing hearths and sparkling tables, and her own lonely liittle home, with the clock ticking and the cat purring, and not a soul to speak a kind word. But somebody was rapping at the door, and loudly, too! She rose hastily, pushed Maltie from her lap, and opened it. “Am I welcome, Nellie?” said a hearty voice, as a tall figure stepped into the room, and held out a warm hand to her. Harvey Blair! Just the same as of old, even to softening her somewhat ugly name into the tender “Nellie” he used to call her, so long ago. “You are very —” Poor little Miss Penelope tried to answer him, but her voice broke, and in spite of herself, she hid her face in her hands and sobbed. Harvey Blair quietly shut the door, then slipped a strong arm around the trim waist, which was no longer a young girl’s, and held her so, while he said, in tones none too steady of his own: “My poor little girl, you have not forgotten me, after all! I did not know you were here, until I saw you in church, this morning. I have followed you home, to ask you to make up that foolish quarrel, and let's be friends again. Won’t you, Nellie?” Miss Penelope stopped crying, and drew a little away, answered: “I have always been your friend, Mr. Blair." But he did not let her go; he held her fast, and laughed a low laugh, and said: “ ‘Mr. Blair,’ indeed! I won’t believe you, until you do better than that! Why, child, I have come all this way back, more to see you again than anything else. 1 warn you. ‘friends’ won't satisfy me, either! 6 Come, Nellie, Nellie! I never could stop loving you; I thought I wouldn’t ask to be taken back, unless you

first invited me, but I cduld not stand it! 1 want yob, my dear little ' girl—” “Mr. Blair—” “No! try that again!” “Harvey, then. 1 am not a girl, now. lam thirty yearsold, and you might have you pick and choice of the fairest in the town.” “Well, I have taken it —you! I am thirty-two, myself; so we just suit, you see. Oh, my darling love! I know that you are lonely, living all alone here. I have just heard about you, from my sister-in-law, and 1 warn you, if I had Known it, you should not have been left so long. I thought your father was still living, and you had all that could make life pleasant. It breaks my heart to think of you—why, I won’t think of it! It shall not be so any longer, if you will give yourself to me, and let me take you to my beautiful home, out in Oregon. Come, I’in waiting for you to say yes! Say it, and this will be the grandest Thanksgiving Day of my whole life. Say it, darling, please!” “I say it—yes, Harvey, and God bless you!” and then Miss Penelope would have dropped her head on his shoulder and cried again if he had not snatched her to his breast, and kissed her until she couldn’t cry at all! Talk about your young lovers! People don’t know how to love, until they are old enough to choose wisely —as these two were, you see. Presently they came back to earth, and then Harvey said: “Nellie T I smell a very good dinner cooking. Aren’t you going to invite me to stay, and take Thanksgiving with you?” “Will you stay, then. Would it be just proper?” “Oh, hang propriety! Besides, am I not going to be your husband very soon? Haven’t l a better right than anybody else? Everybody will know it, too; for I am going to present you as my bride, at the party tonight.” “The party? Oh, Harvey, I am not going to the party!” “But you are! See here. I had almost forgotten this." He drew a little note from his pock-j et, and gave it to her. It was from Mrs. Judge Blair, apologizing for the short and informal invitation, but saying that since she had dis* covered that Miss Hastings was al very particular friend of Harvey’s 1 she would give her the heartiest wlecome in the world, and begged 1 her to come.

Miss Penelope colored, and folded the note, with a little shake of her head, and a firm little pucker in her lips. But Harvey interrupted: “Oh, I know what that means! But you must go to please me. They have not intended to neglect you, Nellie; they were only thoughtless; and, you see, they didn’t know you belonged to me. You must go. Don’t let pride step in again, darling, and part us. Forgive them, and go for ray sake.” “Harvey, I have nothing to wear.” •‘Very well, Miss Flora MacFlimsey, just fix up something, or I declare, I will take you just as you are. Consent, or first thing you know, I shall insist on having the ceremony performed right there,and —why! I do believe it would be a splendid idea! Let’s do it!” “Oh, no! no! no!” cried Penelope, laughing and blushing. “I won’t be married in any such way. I’ll go with you, since I must, though. Now, if I don’t get up the dinner, it wil all spoil.” “Get along with you then!” He kissed her again, and the next minute Miss Penelope was preparing the dinner for herself and Harvey Blair, and wondering whether she was awake or asleep: but being very glad, after all, that Ellen Tenney didn’t go to church! No lonely dinner was that, but a very feast of love and joy, with a life stretching on beyond it, which was to be one perpetual glad Thanksgiving Day for the happy hearts which had “been lost, but now were found.” Of the surprise when the truth was made known, and Miss Penelope Hastings stood between Mrs. Blair and Harvey, to receive the guests at the Judge’s mansion, how can I ever tell? People who had hardly noticed the little dressmaker, suddenly discovered that they had always admired her, and came to congratulate her on her good fortune. But Miss Penelope believed in none of them so heartily as she did in pretty Katie Allen, who slipped up and throwing her arms around the little woman’s neck, kissed her warmly, saying: “So you have taken him away from every one of us! But I never was so glad of anything in my life! Isn’t it a lovely Thanksgiving?”

A TALL FIGURE STEPPED INTO THE ROOM AND HELD OUT A WARM HAND TO HER.