Putnam patriot., 1913-11-28
THEIR CITY
THANKSGIVING
Ru GEORGE MuNsoN.

John Robinson lay on his bed in the
hall room which he occupied in the
cheap lodging house, reading a letter
from bis folks upstate. 1t was sign
ed by his mother and his two sisters.
I'VE 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 we'll He is glad you are get
ting along so nicely. We wish you
could be with u.s. 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 a 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 a terrible
downfall in their estimation and a
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 mis- breakfasts. But his
starved body suddenly demanded bet
ter nourishment; it clamored desper-
ately, wildly, for this now remem-
bered delicscy.
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 il 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.
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-wouldnt you like 20
ioin me?" she said timidly. It's my
Thanksgiving dinner" she continued.
with a 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 1t lay quarter Oh
delicatessen store turkey.
Il think it's DONE" said Fanny ana
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 not
baked potatoes.
You weren't going to eat -FOUR
said John, with clumsy popularity, ana
Fanny blushed So she had planned
to invite him from the beginning.
However, a healthy appetite does
not permit of retrospective analysis
II was not until the plates were quite
- +-,-irap homes and Do