The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-12-14
Miss Pickens in an affronted tone.

full as could, it wouldn't be right to
get others to help. And she said it
would. And so ] came here, because
l don't believe you're helping at all.
"Helping whata" asked Miss Pick
ems in futter. 1t had been long
time since she had taken hold with
others to help anything along.
"Why, helping to carry the glory
and honor of the nations into heaven"
Miss Pickens started.
"You ought to help" went on the
Child, because the fathers helped,
ard some of them were your folks.
Papa's Son of the Revolution, you
know, and he was reading about some
of your folks in his magazine. They
were brave, and they fought, and of
course they were thankful, for all the
fathers were, even the middle ones
that had pumpkin pie for Thanks
giving. Pumpkin pie eedn't hinder
any one from being thankful, mamma
says. asked her yesterday"
II haven't had any to hinder me in
many year" muttered Miss Pickens.
And then she asked, "What started
you off on that track?"
The Child looked at her, and it
was plain that he did not understand.
"How did you come to think of
helping carry the glory and honor of
the nations into heavens"
mamma told me to. And 1 got to
thinking that it must take lot of
glory and honor to make any show
in big place like heaven, and you're
the only one I know that l didn't
think was helping.
Miss Pickens flushed again. "But
you've begun" encouraged the Child,
land every day I'm coming to show
you things to be thankful for, and
then you'll come to church on
Thanksgiving, won't yous"
"Huml" said Miss Pickens.
"Does that mean yes?" asked the
Child.
NO." smiled Miss Pickens. "It
means, I'll see about it.
That evening Miss Pickens did not
sew. She closed her eyes, leaned
back in her rocker and thought. One
after another the family legends she
had heard in her youth came back to
her.
First, there were the tales her
grandfather told with kindling eye
and animated tone. Then the gen.
ealogy of the family recounted by
her mother, with stirring anecdotes of
this one and that one. The Child of
the Revolution was right. She did
come of a good family, though now
she was all alone and poor and old.
She felt glow of pride at the
thought of it. And then she said
aloud, "I'm thankful had good an
cestors. Imean it," she added firm
ly. Pm thankful. I guess I'll goto
church Thanksgiving"
When the bells had ceased ringing
on Thanksgiving morning the Child,
who sat with his parents, lifted his
face to his mother, and she bent her
head to hear. He had looked across
the church and had seen sitting quite
alone, shabby, elderly woman.
Mamma" he whispered, there's
Miss Pickens. She's thankful, but |
guess she's lonesome, too. Hadn't |
better go sit by herr"
eyes" nodded Mrs. White.
Softly and silently the little feet
stole out of the pew and down the
aisle and up to Miss Pickens's side.
"I've come to help you be thank
full" he whispered. 81 guess we can
both of us carry a lot"
Miss Pickens looked down at him.
Then she put out her hand from
under her thin old shawl and grasped
the hand of John Quincy White.
And so the two sat through the SER
vices, and how should John Quincy
White know that the warmth of his
small hand had warmed Miss Pick
ens's hearth
He did not know, nor did he know
that there at his side Miss Pickens
gave thanks to God for the Child OF
the observation-disclosures.