The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1878-11-28

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A glance at the ashes and embers of
what was once hotel was not very
satisfying to five hungry juveniles, and
mamma, for the first time since she
babe her husband good-by, with almost
a cloud on her brow, said:
1--WE will play we have got to grand
pas, and see how nearly our real get
ting there will be like our play. will
begin-now-'W What would l like for
supper, Sister Harriet? Oh, a cup of
tea for me, and plenty of milk and
bread for the children wall, de-
clar' fort, Sister Susan. guess these
children won't eat bread and milk at
grandpa's. Thanksgivin', after travelin'
three mortal days aud nights"
And the plump little mamma changed
her voice in the last clause in a droll
nasal imitation of her sister, which
made the children laugh.
"What would you like, my dears?"
81 can smell all sorts of goodies"
said Mary, smiling until her little pert
nose grew red, "and l should like
pumpkin pie, if its agreeable
"Chicken for me-" put in Johnny,
promptly.
Mince pie," said quiet Jane.
Pudding cake, cookies, apples,
nuts, popcorn balls, roast beef, roast
pork, spare ribs, quail, ham, ducks;
most anything you have in the house,"
cried Charlie uproariously-while they
all laughed, and little Hat shouted,
1000, goo," and made her little fat
hands fly in "patty-cake, patty. cake,
bakers man."
The three or four passengers in the
far end of the car looked up from their
books and papers and smiled at the
merry little group.
Meanwhile Aunt Harriet, in the great
old ark of Il farmhouse by herself,
talked to the dog and the cat. She had
loaded the hired man off home to his
fathers with big basket packed full
of Thanksgivin' tiXin's. I'm see,"
she said as she put in the last mince-
pie and loaf of cake, I" if l can't have
Just as thankful heart rs l could if
the house was full of goodies. mean
to try it for once, and eat pudden' and
milk, rs Ihave so often wished could,
and see if don't enjoy it just as WELL"
So she sifted agreat quantity of corn
meal of the kind that southern people
call hominy and New England folks
call samp, and putting on the big din
ner-pot, proceeded to make Il pudding.
1t required 4 good deal of stirring and
skimming, and kept her pretty busy for
two or three hours. The meal swelleu
and swelled until the kettle was nearly
full.
II declar fort" said she to the cat,
IL don't know what possessed me to
make such lot Of puddcn'. But if l
don't want it all mys self the hogs will;
'twon't be wasted, ''-and, fetching a
bowl of milk from the pantry, she sat
down in the splint-bottomed focking-
chair, set her felt-slippered feet on the
fOre-piece of the stove and proceeded
to eat her supper.
Il declar fort" said she to the dog,
who lay on the rug at her feet, 81 feel
exactly as if sumbudy was dead. or as
if ev'rybudy was dead, and was left
on airth alone to keep tarvern. l
should like little bite of sunthin' to
top off with, but l wouldn't own it to
anybudy that could talk; but you won't
tell no tales. Pm as ashamed as q
WulppCu OOSs sbilu ACCl aS CACdp do VII Y
every time think what day it is, and
how we've been prospered in every
way through the year, and yet here l
be, no comp'ny in the house and none
likely to come, and nuthin' cooked up,
and no Thanksgivin' smell about the
house, and, worst of all, father'n moth
er sent off out from under their own
ruff. Harriet, you're sour, selfish,
Grabbed old maid, md Pm ashamed on
We. Take the Bible and see if We can't
find sunthin' to git ye inter a better
state O. mind.''
So she strobe into 'smOther's room"
after the family Bible, and, behold! it
was gone. "They've taken it with 'em
to Johns, and all the Thansgivin' feel
in along with it, She took look at
the made-up bed, with its pieced up
quilt, and said again, 1T seems as if
ev'rybudy was dead," and went out and
shut the door softly behind her.
"What if sumbudy should come"
she soliloquizcd next, taking up the
cat, "but there won't. There amt
nobody to come, only what's invited to
Johns, excepting Sister Susan, poor
dear, precious child, away off there in
the wilds; she'll never come home
agin, l presume" and Harriet laid her
head on her knees and thought of the
day Susan was born, and of the day
when she was married, and cried q lit
tie, and then dropped off into a nap,
from which she was aroused by sub
dued hustle near the back door.
Getting up and lifting a corner of the
curtain she peeped out, and saw, by the
light OF the full moon, a wagon driving
out of the yard, trunk-or basket-a
tallish boy. a shortish girl, two more
children coming up the walk, and q
plump, little woman, with a baby in
her arms, just stepping upon the door
stone.
"Susan," gasped Harriet, quickly
unbuttoning and opening the door, and
catching the surprised, rosy little
woman in her arms. They both cried
q little, but Harriet meanwhile put
Susan into the splint-bottomed chair,
took off her bonnet, and smoothed her
hair. Then she wiped her eyes, asked
after the absent husband, kissed the
children, took off their things, making
q mental calculation of how she should
mango to get them all dressed before
Sunday.
"I knew we should find you up" said
Susan, looking around the familiar
kitchen. 81 remember how the baking
used to drag the night BEFORE" and
she gave little sniff. Smelling moth
ing suggestive of fancy cookery, she
said she believed she had managed to
take little cold in some way. At this
the children, each in turn, shifted and
looked curiously at each other.
"We won't let anyone know that
you have come until morning." said
! Harriet, in her decided Wav. 6 and then