The Washington herald., 1913-11-27
Drusilla's Thanksgiving.
by KATE cLEvEs.
Copyright. isls)

4
| II was the day before Thanksgiving
that Drusilia Orde made up her mind
to throw up her position in Hannan's
department store and go back to Laurel
| ton.
For fifteen years she had stood behind
the glove counter In the big store and
| fitted gloves on all sorts and shapes Of
| hands.
/ II hate II; l hate IL. hate it.'' she
had cried to herself for f1ve years; that
was the last five years of her service
| there. after the novelty OF being a wage
Garner in a large city had worn on Now
| she detested the tiny third .oor room,
which was all she could afford even
after. ten years work; she hated the
| smell of toast made over a gas jet: the
| odor of coffee was detestable when IT
clung about the little space in which she
slept and ate two meals each day.
For the first five years she had been
able to send money down to her parents
| in Laurelton-a tiny sum each week. but
enough to help. Then they had died and
the place had been sold and Drusilla had
never gone back. The little money from
the place was boarded in the banks.
But now it was the day before
Thanksgiving and all the store clerks had
been full of holiday plans. Many were
going to spend the day in their homes
among their own people, and poor
Drusilla grew more homesick as the
hours flew past. She had few friends
in the city and no one had invited her to
dinner
At the lunch hour she went to the
hank and drew out almost all her
money. then she went to her little room
and packed her trunk and sent il to the
railroad station. When she had paid her
landlady and hidden her, good-by she
went back to the store and gave up her
position.
When the little envelope containing
the money due her was tucked in her
pocketbook and she was free to say fare
well TO her fellow clerks and go, a
strange restlessness took possession Of
the little woman.
When she was on the train she strained
her eager eyes for the first glimpse Of
the familiar mountain that overshadowed
Laurelton. The shabby old coaches were
familiar enough, and the face OF the
elderly conductor who took her ticket was
that of an old acquaintance.
How do you do. Mr.. Bemis?' she
asked, joyfully. "
The conductor peered under the edge
of her black hat.
"Drusilly OrdeI Good Lord, girl / amt
seen you in years! Well" he said. you
amt grown any younger"
Drusilla tucked her graying hair be-
hind her pink ears. And ycu haven't
got any more manners. Dan Benis," she
retorted.
Dan chuckled. Your tongues as sharp
a ever. DrusilIy! Well. where you going
to 'stop-at your Aunt Lucetty's?"
Il guess So said DrusilIa.
well, you going to stay a spell?'
IAN winter" said DrusiIla 'recklessly.
Flora'n be pleased to meet you again.
and Mr.. Bemis went on to collect other
tickets and to enjoy neighborly chat with
the passengers.
And to each passenger he impaired the
information thatHDrusilla Orde was IN
the front seat there and that she was
going to stay in Laurelton all winter.
So ii was that when DrusilIa arrived
at Laurelton in the early November twi-
light she found many pleasant greetings
from people whom she scarcely knew;
some had been old schoolmates who now
were fathers and mothers OF families:
others were children who had grown to
manhood and womanhood during her alb
sence- Warmed by these CHEEKY greet
ings, Drusilla walked on down the IA
miliar road that led to the village.
The air was crisp and cold and the
smell of the pines was invigorating to
her lungs stifled by the close air of the
city. As she walked the years seemed
TO fall from DrusilIa until, when she
reached the village street she was quite
twenty again, in spite OF the gray threads
in her brown hair.
She passed the Methodist Church, the |
moving picture theater, which was Q
glittering innovation, the meat market, |
the post-ofiice, and came suddenly upon
Im Thorpe's drug store.