The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-11-26
THE MINISTER'S PIE.
A Thanksgiving story.

LOOK mere, SALLY!
Mrs. Deacon Farrell brushed the flour
from her hands, casting meanwhile
complacent eye over the well-filled
kitchen-table, with its generous array
of unbaked pies and cakes, the plump
turkey stuffed and trussed ready for the
morrow's baking, and the big chicken
pie to which her skillful fingers had just
put the finishing touches, as she re-
peated rather more decidedly:
"Look here, Sally! There's enough
chicken left, with the giblets-that |
never put in my own pie, because the
deacon don't relish 'em-ter make a
Thanksgiving pie for the minister's
folks. 'Twon't need ter be very large"
she added, in reply to Sally's doubtful
look. g Only the minister and his wife
an you can bake it in that smallest
yaller dish. ..t
''Now, I'm goin' up stairs to look
over them rugrags, an you make it
an bake it right off, soft can send it
over by the deacon. He's got ter 90
out to the Corner this afternoon an can
take it along as well as not.''
She hustled out of the door, but the
next moment, seized perhaps with a
sudden pang of conjunction, she sput
her head in again, to say warningly: of
g Be sure you put in good parcel if
gravy; that II keep it from bein' dry,
Ills half giblets.'
Yes'm," answered Sally, brlskly;
and catching up the rolling-pln she
broughtit down with an emphasis upon
lump of dough on the mould-board.
AS the stairway-door closed behind
her mistress, Sally dropped the rolling
pin, and alook of perplexity crept over
her dull face, making it ten times more
stolid than usual, while she repeated, in
ludicrous bewilderment:
80 Giblets! What, in all creation, if
anybody can tell me, does she mean by
themp" .
Involuntarily she took step forward,
but checked herself as quickly, while a
cunning smile replaced the look of per-
plexity, and she muttered triumphantly:
81 guess | amt a-goin' ter confess
my ignorance ter the oeacon's wife, an
hear her say, as she always does, .Two
terms to the 'cademy, Sally, an not
know h0tr No, mG'an! not while
there's dictionary in the houser'
SO, softly creeping into the adjoining
sitting-room, Sally hastily opened the
big dictionary on the deacon's writing
desk and began her search for the mys.
FERROUS word.
"G-i-b-here TSP and she read aloud
to herself, with an air of triumph, the
following definition:
''Those parts of fowl that are re-
moved before cooking-the heart, giz-
zard, liver, etc.,
That's it!-'heart, liver, gizzard,
and so FORTH she repeated ioyfully,
and she retraced her steps to the kitch-
en- and began, with great alacrity, to
d fill, according to directions, the minis
ter's pie; keeping up, meanwhile, a
running fire of comment for her own
especial benefit.
''Sir gizzardsl Well, that IS rather
steep as Dan Watson would say. But
guess the deacon's wife knows; if she
don't, faint none O. nay business. Ssr
hearts! 1hem'S small, and tuck into
the corners handy. Sic livers! Seems
to me they don't fill up much" and she
glanced, with perplexed ali, at pile
of denuded chicken bones that formed
her only resource.
''Now, | WONDER" with sudden in.
spiration, ''what that and SO forth
meant? Here's hearts, gizzards and
livers,' plenty of 'em, but no and SC
FORTH and the pie amt more'n two.
thirds full yet. 1t must mean," and she
cast bewildered look at the half-filled
pie, ''the chickens legs. Inever knew
nobody ter put 'em in pie, but thai
must be what it means, an they'll lust
fill up"
No sooner thought than done. Ii
went the three pairs of stout yellow
legs upon which their unfortunate own
ers had strutted so proudly only day
before; on went the we'll rolled dough
covering them from sight, and into tn,
oven went the minister's pie, Just as tn,
mistress of the house re-entered he
kitchen, and with an approving glanc
at the snowy pastry, remarked encour
agingly;
THAT pie looks real neat, Sally.
shouldn't wonder if, in time, you cam
to be quite cook"
1t, was Thanksgiving morning, anC
Miss Patience Pringle stood at the min
ister's back door. To be sure it wa
rather early for callers, but Miss Pa
thence was, as she often boosted, "on
of the kind that never stood on cere