The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1878-01-03
Tale Of Two Thanksgiving

Ial6 OF lWO luduKSSlsluSO
I Itwas Thanksgiving-eye. The dusl
was falling fast. and something els
beside the dusk, namely fine col.
sleet. which coated the sidewalks wit
/ slippery crust, and smote the face o
| each wayfarer with little singing slaps
as who should say, "Take these, witt
Winters compliments; he is just be
hind, and Sends his card on thus b.
me-" Thanksgiving-eves not infre
auently are of. this uncomfortable pat
tern. 1t may be natures happy de
vice for enhancing by contrast tn
cheer and comfort Of the season, max
| ling the freside seem brighter, the din
ner more tempting and savory. Blu
lhow about those who have no freside
or dinners
Jenny Forde belonged only in par
| to this destitute class. She had a fire
side, so far as stove with an oper
crate about teight inches across deserves
to rank under that cozy name. "Tht
Blue-beH of Scotland" the stove call
led itself. "Adopted into use among
! our best Fifth Avenue families, 1T:
advertisement stated, "and deservedlJ
Ia favorite in the very highest circles.
Jenny was proud Of her stove. She
was quite sure that no one not an ex
pert would suspect its useful qualities
or detect the handy little oven hidden
away behind among the ornamental
twirls and scrolls, or the place for po-
tatoes and pudding dishes beneath the
iron cage on top. Tonight she had
popped on an extra lump of coal in
honor of the season, and the little room
fairly glowed with warmth and that
redolence Of scorched blacking which
is the property Of little stoves all the
world over. The shade was pulled
down over the window, the lamp SET
unlit upon the table, and Jenny, in her
Connecticut rocking-chair, was seated
for the unwonted luxury of an idle
half hour. Later she must sew. This
lazy interval was her holiday treat,
the only one within her means, poor
girl. There was no one to tempt to
the extravaganza of a Thanksgiving
feast or to share it, and to spend time
and money in fessting herself alone
was an idea which would never have
entered into her. frugal and modest
mind.
Yet it was not an unhappy face
which the fire glow caressed as the big
rocker swung to and fro, each move
ment marked by a soft thud, thud, on
the uncarpeted floor. Jenny's charac-
teristic was a round softness of form
and feature, which would make her
look ,girlish to the end of her life. Her
shrewd blue eyes beamed with kind
ly.gleam her mouth, though its cor:
ners showed care-worn lines, trembled
easily into smile. There was pleas
ant attraction in the plump little fig
ure, always so trinity clad and neat, in
the childish fingers, with their deep
needle pricks. Every body felt it,
from babies who cried to come to her,
to the ladies who supplied her with
sewing. Jenny. was a fayorite, and
this eyening-nay, Ibis housG-was to
bring proof of the fact.
For, as she sat, there came a knock
at the door q loud, important knock
and tall form entered, impressive in
capes and buttons, whom Jenny re
cognized as the resplendent coachman
of Mrs. Meredith, gentle little wild
ow, and one of her best patrons.
"Person here named Forde-Miss
Forde ?" inquired the dazzling vision
eyes; that is me-" said Jenny.
"Then here's for you. Compliment:
les Mrs ana Sic eioiecs~odl h0fcs 81 Il
have a pleasant Thanksgiving"
"Oh, thank you, Sir; and please
thank Mrs. Meredith
With a nod he of the capes and
buttons departed, leaving Jenny face
to face with a big basket which be had
set upon her table. From under its
cover an unmistakable drumstick pro
truded.
II do wonder if it can be a turkey
thought Jenny, as she lifted the cover
Sure enough it was turkey, pill
lowed on celery stalks and sweet pota
toes, and mounting guard, SO to speak
over a mould Of jellied cranberry
And what besides? A golden brown
circlet, with edge of faky white. Who
can mistake a pumpkin pie? Oh
kind Mrs. Meredith!
The room seemed to have suddenly
grown brighter and warmer, as Jenny,
after putting away these treasures, re
turned to her chair and the fire. How
pleasant it is to be remembered
What happy little woman-yes, fol
all that had come and gone-what 8
happy little woman she was! Sodeel
were her pleasant thoughts that she
scarcely heard the second knock which
fell on the door-a low, timid one, al
from the hand of child.
"Come in," she said. dreamily. The
door opened little way, a cold vino
swept in from the staircase, but no one
entered.
"1Nell, why don't you come in? ?
she called out. No one answering
she jumped up and went to the door
A little thinly dressed girl stood il
the hall. She was strangling q sob il
her apron, and at the sight Of Jenny
seemed half inclined to run away.