Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1861-03-12

"Maybe had, wife, !" he replied, gathering
up the reins and mounting the creaking seat.
"Run, Faith, with Reuben's yarn mittens;
they're under the lounge in the back room
hurry, child"
Faith ran out, her pretty curls blown about
reins until the old man drew the mittens on.
Hurry back, Reuben" called Lisbeth, ssI
don't want my Thanksgiving dinner to spile
with waitin'."
"Aye, aye, wife!"
Old Dobbin pricked up his ears, and started
forward; the old-fashioned buggy went creak-
| ing down the lane, and was soon lost to sight
by the swaying elm boughs.
"Now, Faith, T" said Lisbeth, tucking up her
sleeves, and tying on her ample linen apron,
'if ever we was spry in our lives, let's be this
| morning They'll be home by O'Clock, and
it's most 10 now; an there's the beef to roast,
an the turkey, an the mince pie to bake; an
indeed, jest as light as feather. It's Jest the
incest thing in the world for Simeon to get
home on Thanksgivin' day, amt it, Faith ?S
Faith said, "Yes, nam, i" very quietly; and
the happy woman went on:
"Poor Simmie, it's been many a day since
his old mother cooked dinner for him-an'
he always liked my cookin'. Mother he
used to say, never saw any one cook things
as nice as you do How lucky it was, Faith,
that you made that raisin cake yesterday
He always liked it. remember when he was
most baby. I can see him now, with his
brown curls all dancin' round his rosy
face. He used to catch hold o. my dress, an
say, Mother, won't you have raisin cake
Thanksgivin' day?' Bless his dear heart -
the best boy that ever lived! Never give his
old mother cross word, or caused her a mo-
ment's trouble in his life, 1 know he'll enjoy
his dinner. Chop up them apples, Faith, an
we'll have the pies on in no time.''
Faith did as she was bidden, tripping round
with drift and quiet handiness that made her
sweet face all the more attractive; and by
twelve o'clock the huge turkey and great
round OF beef were nicely browning, and the
mince pies and the mammoth loaf of bread
were fairly done.
''Gettin' on finely, Faith, said Lisbeth, stir
ring and seasoning a bowl Of gravy 1--WE
shall have dinner in good time. You may set
the table, and then 60 and dress yourself
What III you wear? Your new merino frock,
won't you ?'
Z" don't know, mann, =" said Faith, blushing
and averting her face.
" would If l was you. It's the prettiest
dress you've got, an Simeon always liked to
see US dressed we'll. shall put on my brown
muslin that Reuben bought when he went down
to sell his wheat last fall, and that dove-silk
shawl the deacon's wife gave me, an my new
cap that Miss Stebbs made. An you wear
your blue merino, Faith, and the gold chain
that Simeon gave you; 1 know it'll please
him.
Faith did not reply, hut happy light lay in
her soft blue eye as she tripped out to set the
table.
Two o'clock found everything ready-the
old walnut table covered with the finest linen,
and the brightest and prettiest of everything
that the cottage afforded spread out in the
center of the best room; the round of beef
smoking at one end, the huge turkey at the
other; and the mammoth losf, rising, noun
tain-like, amid profusion of berry brown pies
and cakes, while the sideboard groaned beneath
heaps of yellow apples and stone pitchers of
sparkling cider.
In the doorway, nicely robed in her brown
muslin and dove-silk shawl, her dark hair
Gust beginning to be streaked with silver put
smoothly back beneath her best lace cap, stood
Lisbeth, her face all aglow with anxious ex-
pectation Faith fitted hither and thither,
shaking out the folds of a curtain, or re- ar
ranging branch Of evergreen, looking quite
pretty in her new merino, the neck and sleeves
edged with fringe of misty lace, and her
auburn curls streaming over her shoulders
like waves Of sunshine. II might have been a
consciousness Of her own fresh loveliness that
brought the rese-fush to her cheeks, and made
her pause once in q while before the little oval
mirror, to assure herself that Simeon's gold
chain was all right, with the clasp Just in front
1t might have been something else; be that as
1t may, Faith was not to blame, for that whic b
We often term maiden vanity deserves o far
holier name.
TzA