The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1888-11-29
THANKSGIVING FOR TWO.

WV e-
we two, its we two, while the world 5 away,
Sitting by the golden sheaves On cur wedding day.
jean fngeIow.
There il not. in ell New England. a ~prettier
os or country than is tfaversed by the Old Hill
road, which leads FROM Starboro 10 Oid Hill
Town, lately shortened 10 Hilton. Stsrooro IS
. manufacturing town. IL has grown. within
q decade, 20 a population OF many thousands. 1t
has vhi-ring mills, paved and crowded streets,
she telegraph and telephone, mail-carriers, and
q city charter. AS you ride away from II over
tire Old Hill road from the south side OF
the town, in almost the only direc-
ticn that IL not threaded by gas
pipes. and telephone wires, and horse-car lines,
you turn back for last glimpses or Its mills.
whose red brick contrasts go well against the
green of It's elms; its gray-stone cottages, its
multiplying steeples, Its many bridges across
the winding river. But the road winds. too, and
the hills grow sleeper. and she murmur of the
river grows fainter beneath you as you ride on;
though there is many an interval where broad.
green meadows lie, many q stretch OF level field
and forest Many a nook, too. where coy old
cottages nestle. with guardian oaks in front;
many q wind-swept height or breezy plateau,
where wide farm-houses stand foursquare TO
strong, health-laden winds. Old Hill Town
for the inhabitants for the most part scorn the
newer name and cling to the old, signif-
cant ~one-looks down with well-bred toll
erance on its young neighbor town,
with Its hustle and its building, and its
yet unclassifed society" Though, be it said, it
does lot scorn the increasing revenues its sons
and daughters bring from these noisy factories,
and the stores and shops ;hey have called into
being. IL has itself taken on q new prosperity.
and felt the quicker current Of life therefrom,
IN its staid banks, and slow and sober markets.
And real estate in Old Hill Town has sd
vanced many per cent. during these few years
OF Starboros growth, though descending the
ancestral lines, nowhere more closely kept than
here, it's farms are for the most part u~ncleft. its
long titled acres follow their old-time divisions
in all its lovely outlying districts And within
the dear old village the same white and yellow
houses stand az the same angles, and are seps-
rated by the same distances along the wide,
still streets.
1t was at the corner Of one OF the widest and
sbadiest streets, just as you enter Hill Town.
that on a mild sunny day in early November, a
young man with a resolute. kind face, a clear,
bright glance, and the iosc as of one somewhat
used TO facing toll and difficulty, stood. tying a
horse to the quaint stone post His companion
during the ride from Starboro, whom he had
just assisted 10 alight from the carriage, stood
by, waiting. He must have been moro than
thirty; she a little younger. She, too, despite
her indication of womanly refinement, and the
ladyhood that was patent from the tie OF her
bonnet TO the tip of her boot, had the look and
bearing Of one who had made her own way, and
that not an easy one.
Are you sure you brought the key, Georgef'
she asked as they turned into the wide, still
grassy yard in front of q squarely built, straw
cOlOreQ mouse, Wnere quaint gaDleS ana ancient
carvings proved that it had been built more
than half a century. For answer he unlocked the
great front door.
sit isn't the key. but one 1 had. Idon't know
why Wylde doesn't send the keys. There's
quite a bunch for inside and out. / must call
and get them, and the deed. tonight"
They had stepped now into the square, old
fashioned hall. Out of it opened heavily-paneled
doors into large, many-windowsd rooms. on the
right and left.
I.Is,it !, ola sash;o,a5 ard hom.Eka ara
dsarF' said the girl delightedly, as she paused
on the threshold Of one Of the rooms. Just as l
knew it would be. l remember the outside.
when / was q child. George, it seems too good
to be true, that it should be yours
''Ours, you mean" he interpolated.
"Ours. them" she amended, flushing, mo,
yours and going 70 be ours. Such a home as we
couldn't get may be in a lifetime. Any house
for a home to grow in would be a great deal to
Us. but this - so good! / can't make il realiD
But il is" he answered, trying TO speak
lightly. 'See these mantel pieces of the old,
dark marble; and the floors of solid hard wood
all of them. We needn't have carpets every
where. And the doors almost thick enough to
stand a sieget'
How well our bric-a-brac will look on these
mantels! And I've some old curtains that will
make such lovely draperies for these long, wide
windows, and the window seats I'll cushion.
And some old dimity that's just the thing for
the gables. My dear old things will fit it beau
tifully and harmonic better than the finest
new.
This must be our dinine-room. The side
board Is here already. Only you must put in
some drawers beneath"
'Tl take the measurements now" he an
swered, 'but / want you TO see this kitchen.
Look out for dust. I'm going to open the brick
oven"
"Ah. this is the pleasantest room in the house,
with its windows south and east Here's where
I'll sit down when dinner Is ready. and it's time
for you. How near the bank looks, and how
very. very good it all is"
And she sat down opposite him in the deep
window-seat. while he r~ejoined:
ID you remember, dear. how, a year ago,
you tried TO cheer me-, one day when things
were more deeply, darkly blue than eommonl
You said there would be q way. Our home
would come 10 Us, or we to it, In Gods time, you
said. If We but worked, and waited, and hoped
meanwhile"
II remember she answered. smiling, and
brushing the tears away And it was so. wasn't
Eyes. and it seems a good token to begin life
WITH, Beth. Your sim pie faith, your instinct Of
faith. was SO much truer, so much more nearly
parallel with Gods purpose for US than all my
plans and calculations. l shall remember it."
"Whst ThankscIvings we'll keep here, BETH
he went on more gayly. "And when shall l be
ordering the turkey for the first onel Turkey
for two it Isl"
Thanksgiving for two, and I mean to have
that oven swept out and heated to cook our
Thanksgiving dinner" she said, going nearer to
inspect it again; and turning back quickly, she
said more sslemnly than she had before spoken:
How much God is giving us. how much He
Is trusting us With 1t can't be all for ourselves,
We mustn't let our home be all for ourselves; it
must be His, and We will use it for Him and for
His sad and lonely onss. too. as well as for our.
selves and our friends"
Theirs had been 8 long engagement George
kiunard had been clerk In a large hardware
store. Elizabeth During was teacher in one Of
the public schools. Neither had father or mother,
brothsr or sister; but he had his fathers debts
to pay, and she had been bound in gratitude to
aid out of her salary the aunt who had befriend-
ed her in her orphaned ~girlhood, TIL her
winners in their turn. Ard when they were re-
leased from these obligations, 10! four years of
their engagement had gone By, and the homo
they were planning for seemed as far of and as
unattainable rs ever.
Six months before the story opens, George
had been appointed to q responsible and lucra-
tive position in the Hill Town Bank, and q little
later, another Joy had come TO them in the shape
or this house. the legacy OF his uncle. Epoch
kinnsrc. g they agreed, nothing more auspi-
cious could have befallen them. Beth had the
furniture that had belonged to her parents. both
OF whom were of Old Hill Town families.
To this they had added bits of newer
furnishing. and for months Beth had
been preparing dsintily hemmed bed linen.
stores OF snowy, glossy napery. scores of strong
towels that IL was fun to hem of evenings, long.
soft. coarse dish-wipers, already bleached and
softened. and the stout, knitted dishcloths that
her myers were aching TO use. What tender
thoughts. what hopes and dreams were inwoveu
with the stitchesi What memories OF her child
hood clustered around every one Of her treas