The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-11-19
AT EITHER END OF THE
WISHBONE.
A Tale Of Two Thanksgivings.


1t was Thanksgiving eve. The dusk
was falling fast and something else be-
sides the dusk, namely, a fine cold sleet
which coated the sidewalks with a Slip
perry crust, and smote the face of each
wayfarer with little singing slaps, as
who should say, Take these with win
ter's compliments; he is just behind,
and sends his card on thus by me-
Thanksgiving ewes not unfre 1uently are
of this uncomfortable pattern. 1t may
be natures happy device for enhancing
by contrast the cheer and comfort CT
of the season, making the fireside seem
brighter, the dinner more tempting
and savory. But how about those who
have no tiresides or dinners?
Jenny Forde belonged only in part
to this destitute class. She had fire.
side so far as a stove with an opeu
CRATE about eight inches across de-
serves to rank under that cozy name
1.-The Blue-bell of Scotland the stove
called itself. ''Adopted into use among
our best fifth avenue families its adj
vertisement stated. ''aDd deservidly
favorite in the very highest circles
Jenny was proud of her stove. She
was sure that no one not an expert
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 hon
or of the season, and the little room
fairly glowed with warmth and that
redolence of scorched backing which
is the property Of little stoves all the
world over. The shades was pulled
down over the window, the lamp set
unlit upon the table, and
Jenny in her Connecticut
rocking-chair, was seated for the I'M
wonted luxury of au idle half hour.
Later she must sew. This lazy inter-
val was her holiday treat, the only one
within her means, poor girl. There
was no one to tempt to the extrava-
gance of Thanksgiving feast or to
share it, and to spend time and money
in feasting 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 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 kindly
CLEAN; her mouth, though it's corners
showed care-worn lines, trembled cas-
lily into a smile. There was a pleasant
attraction in the plump little figure, al
ways so trinity clad and neat, in the
childish fingers, with their deep needle
pricks. Everybody felt it, from babies
who cried to come to her, to the ladies
who supplied her with sewing. Jenny
was favorite, and this evening-nay,
this hour-was to bring proof of the
fact.
For, as she sat, there came knock
ut the door-a loud, important knock
and tall form entered, impressive in
capes and buttons, whom Jenny recog-
nized as the resplendent coachman Of
Mrs. Meredith, gentle little widow,
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. Compliments
of Mrs. Meredith, and she hopes you'll
have pleasant Thanksgiving
80, thank you sir; and please thank
Mrs. Meredith
With a nod he of the capcs and but
tons departed, leaving Jenny face to
face with big basket which he had set
upon her table. From under it's cover
an unmistakable drumstick protruded.
II do wonder if it can be turkey"
thought Jenny as she lifted the cover.
Sure enough, it was turkey, pill
lowed on celery stalks and sweet po-
tatoes, and mounting guard, so to
speak, over a mold of jellied cranberry.
And what besidesp A golden brown
circlet, with edge of flaky white. Who
can mistake pumpkin pie? y. kind
Mrs. Meredith!
The room seemed to have suddenly
grown brighter and warmer, rs 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, for all that
had come and gone-what happy lit
tie woman she was! So deep were her
pleasant thoughts that she scarcely
heard the second knock which fell on
the door-a low, timid one, as from the
hand Of child.
"Come in," she said, dreamily. The
door opened little way, cold wind
swept in from the staircase, but no one