Milford chronicle., 1885-11-27


bread-crumbs, she added, as her
mother looked hopelessly on. "And
we must polish up our bits of silver
and put the best foot foremost but
it will be ridiculous Thanksgiving
dinner, after all.
Mr. Bernard Barclay was a bach
ellOr, well-to-do. and goOd-looking.
Florella admitted, who occupied the
secOnd-stOry front-room in Mrs. Loyd's
house, and took his meals at a restau-
rant, as Mrs. Lloyd only kept "room-
ers"-that is, she let lodgings only,
without board.
Mr.. Barclay had frequently bowed
to Mrs. Spikenard, as they met in the
halls or on the stairway, and had even
exchanged a few words with FlOrella,
on the front steps; and once he had
brought her home from the street-car
under his umbrella, during a heavy
rain.
But what t0ouId he think Of them
for inviting him to a Thanksgiving
dinner ?-and such a dinner, tool
Florella lay awake half the night,
puzzling her head over this problem.
The sun shone out on a clear, frosty
Thanksgiving Day, the next morning,
and Florella and her mother were
bustling about, putting the little
rooms in holiday order, when shufiing
steps came up the stairway, a thump-
ing knock sounded on the door, and a
shOck-headed boy asked;
"AIrs. Spikenard live here?"
"Yes, said the widow. wOnderingly
"Thats my name"
"This here's fur you, then. Nothin'
to pay"
And having deposited a well-filled
market-basket on the table, the boy
shufiled away, leaving the widow and
her daughter staring at each other
with astOnishment.
ats mistaken cried Florella.
But no, there was a card, with Mrs
Spikenard's name and number, care
fully attached to the basket; and hay
ing made sure it was meant for them,
Florella fell at once to riaing it of its
contents.
"a twenty-pound turkey, do be-
level Just look, nal and half
pumpkin! A paper of sugar. Eggs
two dozen of 'em at least-and sweet
potatoes Half a dozen lemons; now
1 can make some lemon-pies. And
raisins, and currants, and citron, and
ginger. What else, wonderg This
is sage, for the dressing, and here's a
bucket of something-oystersl And a
paper of cranberries that's all. !
But who could have sent themP'
Florella and her mother stared
blankly at each other, while Jack t
helped himself to currants and raisins, !
unrebuked {
IF 'twa'n't fur the oysters an lem a
ons, sh'd think twas sister Sary sent q
EN- said Mrs. Spikenard, at last. I
ats a God-send to us, anyway,
wherever it came from," declared Flo b
rella. "And I'm going to get dinner n
right away And now we can ask old g
Mr. Barber, too, after all.
The twenty-pound turkey was soon Il
suffering in the oven, and the aro- c
matte odor of lemons and spice filled v
the little kitchen and floated out Il
through the hallway, penetrating even
to Bachelor Barclays very door. l
The dinner was u success. The oys- e.
ter soup, roast turkey, the sweet pota- p
toes, the lemon and pumpkin pies and n
sauce were cooked to perfec 81
lion, and Mr.. Barclay could not help a
his lonely dinners at the IL
restaurant with this cozy meal; with 10
Kind hearted Mrs. Spikenard presiding "
,ver the coffee-urn, and pretty, violet re
eyed FlOrella busy helping every one oi
1ut herself. nj
Old Mr.. Barber, too, with his digni- te
led, old-school manners, was no de- nt
raction to the merry party around the u
Widespread board. And when it was IN
III over, and Bachelor Barclay had
zone to smoke a cigar in the solitude DC
# his own room, he mentally decided, IN
IS the blue wreaths curled over head, IN
hat "it was not good for man to be !"
lone" 10
In fact, before many moons had ou
ome and gone, pretty Florella SpiSen- ST
I'D had resigned her situation as sp
and assumed the more re- IN
ponsible position of housewife, with 10
he matronly title of Mrs. Bernard hg
Barclay. er
And not until then, did Mr.. Barclay lee
onfess that he had sent the basket I
ghich had so puzzled Florella and her 10
lother. s
II overheard your conversation, ~ ~
yhen you discovered Jacks blunder," e "e
g confessed, "and, Of course, on learn 70
lg the circumstances. I thought it bir
-as only my duty to help you out of
le dilemma" ute
And Florella only laughed at her Ug
explanation, and declared old
le had suspected him all along. he
But a load was lifted from Mrs ali
mind, for, according to her rat
Yn confession, "she couldn't skecrse- wa
y sleep o nights, fur wondering gre
here on 'arth that basket come \
ON" Helen Whitney CLARK. see