The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1885-12-03
BAB'S TURKEY.
a Thanksgiving Story.


down the road camo to sudden stand
still. barbara, como back here q
moment.o
"2os, Mrs. Pcttingill," and the own
er OF the sunbonu0t quickly retraced
her steps TO tho farm gate, where stood
tho tall, rather gaunt woman with the
sharp voice.
"Ihe young turkeys have ali wand
cred off into tho woods youder," sho
said, "and a shower is coming up
fast. Would you mind driving 'em up
for mo, Bah? I've just got my baking
In the oven. The mon folks are all
down i'll the lower meadow, and the
young brood will surely be killed if
they get wet"
Barbara glanced doubtfully from the
heavy cloud rising in tho west to the
woman's anxious face, and then, being
good-natured girl, said:
81 think it will rain in ten minutes,
Mrs. Pettingill, but I'll do the bost
cam"
"Thats good child! Bc spry and
LII give you q loaf of fresh bread and
apail of milk to take homo to your
mother.'
So, thus encouraged, Barbara sot
forth across the plowed field, where
tho wheat and corn were sending up
tender green shoots, until sho reached
tho little tract Of woodland back of the
farm.
Still nothing was to be seen of tho
truant turkeys; and tho thunder now
began to rumble overhead and ilasnes
of vivid lightning to play about tho
dark clouds. making Barbara tremble
with fcars for she had great droud of
being out in 4 thundcrStOrn
"Oh, dear!' she sighed, 'whcrc can
they bcP l am afraid it will rain be-
fore | get back"
just then low, mournful "peep!
pccp!' made her look round. Some
thing was 1iuttering in the long grass
near an old, tum blc-down rail fence,
and going nearer she found it was ono
of the little turkeys, that, in attempt
ing to squeeze between tho bars, had
stuck fast, and was struggling in vain
to got free.
You poor little dotr' she cried,
"hoW came you hercp and whcre have
your mother and brothers all wandered
to?''
But the turkey only answered with
Its sad little peep! peep!' aud help
Ing 1T through the narrow space, Bar
bara popped the wee, downy thing in
to her apron, and stumbled on through
the underbrush. where she felt sure
that the speckled hen and hor turkey
children must have hidden themselves.
Dear me!' cried Barbara. in dis
may, "they will mover get over such q
wetting as this. And what will Mrs.
Pettingill sayP"
And she was half afraid to meet the
farmers wife, to whom tho promising
young had meant new black silk
dross at Thanksgiving.
And Mrs. Pettingill was angry
enough when Barbara drove the dis
consolate-looking brood into the farm
yard, and exclaimed in temper:
cit is all your fault, Bah, for not
having sense enough to look in tho old
pasture first" Qor angry people arc
apt to be unreasonablc). 'They arc
sure to pine away and die now, so
shan't bother with 'em any more. You
needn't have troubled yourself to take
care of that ono forlorn little thing, for
one isn't worth raising"
"Then take il homo, Bah, and SEQ
what you can do with it," said good
natured Farmer Pettingill, who came
In in time to hear his wifes words.
N'Neyer mind Nancy; accidents will
happen, you know, and il these die we
can sot tho old brown hon, and have
plonty more turkeys in Il month";
10 which Mrs. Pottngill only tossed
her head, muttering:
Late turkeys mover do amount to
anything, and those would have been
oil right now if | had gone after 'em
myself and not sent u careless chit like
that with such scathing glance at
Barbara that she was glad to beat a
hasty retreat without either tho prom
ised bread or pail of milk, and sho
walked slowly homeward with tears in
hor brown eyes and tho baby turkey
still rolled up in hcr apron.
The Widow Frick. with her son Hans
and daughter Barbara, or Bah, as she
was usually called, lived in rickety
little cottage at the foot of Long Hill,
where everything was shabby enough,
but clean and neat as now pin; al
though the poor woman had often o
hard time to provide food and clothing
for her little family, especially since an
attack OF NAL aria in the spring had left
her very weak and miserable.
"Ballo, Bah! what have you got
thcreP"' called Hans, from the door
step, as his sister entered the gate;
land you look as solemn as old black
Peters horned OWL" -s..'.
al guess you would look solemn,
and cross, too, If you had chased over
three rough fields, torn your clothes,
scratched your hands, and been cooped
mp in hollow old tree during a terrif-
nc thunderstorm, and then, after all,
only get scolding for your pains, y
retortod Bah, thus giving vent to her
wounded feelings. -... ,..E
Poor Babblo-de-bab! Did you bring
homo the scolding in your apronP"
laughed Hans. ..-r ...is I
tr'tNo, indeodl i was glad enough to
leave it behind mo. This is a poor
little turkey" ... =. /,
And Bah produced tho wee, tromb-
ling bird. sss &, ~
EEWhere did you get itp' asked Mrs.
Frick, appearing In the doorway.
And, sitting down, Barbara related
her mornings adventure ut tho Pettin-
gill Farm.
"But tho turkey won't livc," said
Hans. when she had finished. "They