Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-11-28
THE MINISTER'S PIE.
A Thanksgiving Story.

Look here, Sally
Mrs Deacon Farrell brushed the -four
from her hands, casting meanwhile a COM
placent eve over the we'll filled kitchen
table, with its generous array of unbaked
pies and cakes, the plump turkey stuffed
and trussed ready for the morrow baking,
and the big chicken pie. to which her
fingers had put the finishing touches, as
she repeated rather more decidedly:
Look here, Sally! There's enough
chicken left, with the giblets-that |
never put In my own pie, because the dea-
con don 1t relish enter make a Thanks
giving pie for the minister folks. Twon
need to be very large" she added, IN re-
ply to Sallys doubtful look. ''Only
the minister and his wife-and you can
bake it in that smallest yellow dish.
Now ! am going up stairs to look over
them rags, an you can make it and bake
it right off SOS can send it over by the
deacon.
yes m, F." answered Sally, briskly; and
catching up the rolling pin she brought it
down with emphasis upon a lump a
dough upon the moulding board.
As the stairway door closed behind her
mistress, Sally dropped the rolling pin, and
a look of perplexity crept over her dull face,
making it ten times more stolid than usual,
while she repeated In ludicrous bewilder
ment:
.'Giblets! What in creation, if any
body can tell me, does she mean by
them?"
Involuntarily she took a step forward
but checked herself as quickly, while
a cunning look replaced the look of
perplexity, and she muttered triumphant
II guess | ain a-goin ter confess my
ignorance to the deacon's wife and let
her have her say, as she always does, Two
terms ter the cademy, Sally, and not
know that No, ma am! not while there S
dictionary in the housed
So, softly creeping into the adjoining
sitting room, she hastily opened big die
tionary on the deacon's writing desk, and
began her search for the mysterious
word.
"G-b-here 'tis!" and she read aloud to
herself, with an air of triumph, the follow
ing definition:
'.Those parts of a fowl which are remov-
ed before cooking-heart, glzzard, liver,
etc
That's it!-heart, gizzard, liver and 50
forth. she repeated joyfully, as she retrac
ed her steps to the kitchen, and began with
elacrity, to fill according to directions. the
minister pie, keeping up meanwhile, a
running fire of comment for her own spe-
cial benefit.
six gizzards! Well, that is rather
steep. as Dan Weston would say. But
guess the deacon's wife knows; if she don t,
tain t none of my business. Six hearts!
Them small, and tuck into the corners
handy Six liversl Seems ter me they
don t fill up much, :" and she glanced with
a perplexed air at a pile of denuded
chicken bones that formed her only re-
source.
Now, wonder, " with sudden inspira-
ton, what that and so forth means?
Here hearts, gizzards and liver, plenty of
EN-, butno and so forth, and the pie ain t
more than two-thirds full yet. 1t must
mean, and she cast bewildered look at
the half filled pile, the chickens legs.
never knew nobody ter put them III pie,
but that must be what it means, and they Il
just fill up.
No sooner thought than done, In went
three pairs of stout yellow legs upon which
their unfortunate owners had strutted so
poudly only the day before; on went the
well rolled dough, covering them from
sight, and into the oven went the minis
ter'S PIE. Just as the mistress of the house
re-entered her kitchen, and with an APP
proving glance at the snowy pastry, re-
marked, encOuragIngly:
THAT pie looks real neat, Sally |
shouldn't wonder if, in time, you came
to be quite cook.
1t was Thanksgiving morning, and Miss
Patience Pringle stood at the minister 5
back door To be sure it was rather early
for callers. but Miss Pringle was, as she
often boasted. lone Of the kind that never
stood ON ceremony. Indeed, she didn t
consider it necessary even to knock before
she opened the door, although she was
thoughtful enough in opening it to do so
softly. The minister wife was just tax
ing from the oven a newly warmed
chicken pie which she nearly dropped
from her hand so startled was she by the
sharp, shrill voice that spoke so close to
her:
Good mornin Mrs. Graham. Hahn t
been to breakfast yet. | see. We had ours
half an hour ago. | know my mother used
to say that if anybody lost an hour in the
mornin'. they might chase it all day, and
not catch up with it then. "
THAT a good-lookin' pie-pretty rich
pastry though. for chicken pie. don t
never put shortnin' in anything of that
kind It's rich enough inside to make up.
But you're young, an have got a good
many things to learn yet. run in to see
if you could spare me a cup of yeast;
mine has soured, and the last batch of
bread l made l had to throw it to the
hogs.
certainly. and a roguish smile flutter-
ed over the fair face of the minister wife,
at this specimen of her neighborly econ
omy. But she had learned a rare lesson OF
iudicious silence and taking the cup that
Miss Patience produced from beneath her
shawl. she babe her visitor be seated
while she left the room to get the desired
article.
AS her steps died away Miss Patience
noiselessly arose from her seat and APP
preached the dresser upon which the pie
Stood. peering curiously into the apertures
in the crust, her sharp face expressing
eager curiosity.
IN bet you a ninepence she didn ]
know enough ter put crackers IN. wish
could get one look just to satisfy my own
mind, she added. And determined tC
accomplish her object at half hazards she
ran knife deity around small portion
of the edge, and inserted four inquisitivt
fingers, lifting the brown crust to get q
glimpse of the contents.
A look of unmitigated disgust passed