The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser., 1913-11-21
Their CITY
THANKSGIVING
BY GEORGE MUNSON.

JOnn ROBINSON ldy Ou u1S UCo ih 1oS
hall room which he occupied in the
cheap lodging house, reading letter
from his folks upstate. 1t was sign
ed by his mother and his two sisters.
1--WE shall all be thinking of you
next Thursday when we eat our
Thanksgiving dinner" they wrote.
Father sends you his love and hopes
you are well. He is glad you are get
ting along so nicely. We wish you
could be with us, but, as you say,
business is business and you will
have to be at work Friday morning.
There was much more, but Robin
son had only skinned that part about
the doings on the farm. His heart
was in the cottage in the little ham,
let where he had been reared before
he went to the city, two years before,
to make his fortune. His tales of sue
cess had been lies, amiably devised
for the sake Of the old people.
John Robinson was only twenty
four, but he knew that if he were for
ty his prospects would be no brighter.
He was just an ordinary, clean-mind-
ed country boy, caught in the ma
chinery of the city, and just now earn
ing wage of eight dollars week as
a grocer's clerk That was as well as
he could do. He might have been
longshoreman, if he were stronger,
and earned little more, or street
car conductor, or fill any one of many
such positions. But he saw quite
clearly the exact limitation of his
prospects. He wished he were back
on the farm again. But he could not
swallow his pride. He had gone off
amid the salutations Of the half en-
vious village lads of his own age,
and to go back would mean terrible
downfall in their estimation and q
confession of failure.
A strange and yet familiar smell as
sailed his nostrils Of sudden he
realized that he was hungry. He had
intended to spend that Thanksgiving
day in his room, resting, and had
made a cheap mess of bacon and eggs
upon the little alcohol stove. on which
he cooked his breakfasts. But his
starved body suddenly demanded bet
ter nourishment; it clamored desper-
ately, wildly, for this now remem-
bered delicacy.
He knew what it was The girl in
the adjacent room was cooking a tur-
key!
He knew her to nod to on the
stairs when she came home in the
evening from the department store in
which she worked. Fanny-that was
the only name he knew her by-was
pretty and gentle and had a sort of
frightened look in her eyes which
haunted him, since it was SO like
the look which he had worn for the
first few months after his arrival. He
had never had the courage to speak to
her. e.
That odor was very tempting, He
opened his door little. Then he saw
that her door was ajar Also and, as
he went softly out he came face to
face with her. Her hair was dis
heveled and her face red from bend
ing over her gas stove.
20 won't you-wouldn't you like to
Join me?" she said timidly: IT'S m
Thanksgiving dinner" she continued,
with little laugh. Il thought was
afraid you might be hungry. Mrs.
Higgins said you cooked all your own
food" she continued
Johns heart was beating quite vio-
lently, for some reason or other, as
he followed her in. Upon the stove
was frying pan that sent forth the
appetizing odors which he had dis
cerned; and in it lay a quarter of a
delicatessen store turkey.
Il think it's DONE" said Fanny; and
she removed it from its resting place
and set it upon platter. Then, open
ing a cupboard, she took down two
plates from a shelf, two knives, two
forks, two napkins, and a salt shaker.
Out Of the inside of the little stove
she took four large and piping hot
baked potatoes.
you weren't going to eat four!''
said John, with clumsy jocularity, and