Alma record., 1914-11-19
Bessie and Her
Thanksgiving Pies

r. TITLE Bessie Gray looked up from |
her story book with a sigh, and
IL as she looked up she caught the |
reflection of her face In mir
ror over the table and sighed again.
"Oh. dear! If l were only slender
and graceful and grown up young
lady or a princess and lived in a pal
ace and had heaps Of money and could
carry punches OF flowers to sick peo-
Pile. But here l am. nothing but Bes-
| sic Gray-short. stout and homely,
with a broad face and wide mouth
and not exactly poor, but then | have
to work rather hard for little girl, and
as for the troubles of this world. some
as ought 10, or else the people around
here don't have any TO speak Of"
"Now's your chance said a little
squeaking voice. Where did it come
from? There was nothing in sight but
| heap of pumpkins on a board just
outside the window and little colored
girl passing the garden fence, scantily
clad and shivering In the cold Novem-
Der sunshine All that Bessie knew of
her was that her name was Poppy.
and she belonged to family that were
very shiftless. 1t appeared, from their
unwillingness TO work and their igno-
rant ways of doing the little they
could do.
But il could not be this little girl
who spoke. She was hurrying on with
out turning a glance toward the house.
eager, no doubt. TO reach her miserable
shelter from the cold.
Bessie's curiosity was fully aroused.
She went out and stood upon the door
step. The coiored child was out of
sight. and everything was still but
the wind. and that hardly whispered
through the leafiess boughs Of the pear
trees. But there was the voice, close
to her now. Help me down." 1t said.
And Bessies mouth opened wider than
ever as she saw the topmost pumpkin
Of the pile at her side moving itself
without aid Of hands. She took hold
Of its stem. and, although II was one Of
the heaviest OF the lot, she scarcely felt
It's weight at all.
Garry me in." said the voice again
pantingiy.
7 Bessie had not believed her own ears
until now. A pumpkin talking! That
was more wonderful than Aesop's IA
, bles. truly. But why shouldn't 1t speak
as wen as the brambles and oak trees
and brass kettiesi SO she turned the
great thing over upon its side and roll
', "a II, er. ratheT. let It roll itself, up the
steps into The kitchen.
''Ccok me-" said the little. painting.
{ squeaking vc4ee again. Cook me-"
4 Just then her mother came In. Moth
eT. may I make some pumpkin pies r
t said Bessie
y ~wen, I don't care" was the answer
Of tho busy woman. "None Of us seems
y to be 30 very fond Of them. but you can
: make them II you'll only promise to get
somebody to eat them"
But the pumpkin began to squeak im-
patiently: Cut me up! Cut me up!
! And Bessie obeyed without more ado
/ Determined to have her pies as nice as
they could be made. she poured out her
J. milk. stirred IN spice and sweetening
z and made the crust light, wondering
y while she rolled II out who would eat
the pies when they were done.
4 But the pumpkin told her as it boiled
= In the kettle-no longer with that low
. squeak. but with deep. musical rum
y BILE. as IL laughing with Joy over Its
own fate-"Black Poppy's people; black
u Poppy's people" And why shouldn't q
q pumpkin rejoice In the sacrifice Of Its
y own life for benevolent purpose?
r. And BESSIE herself. when she carried
the pies TO Poppy's wretched home
80 having first set one aside in the cup
board that her mother might see thai
. she could bake pies worth anybody's
eating. looked almost beautiful witt
the excitement of doing a kindly deed
l. Her sun Drowned hands and stout arm:
m were just fitted for the beautiful worl
they had been doing. and she had al
te much reason to be proud of them a:
10 any lady of her delicate fingers. fol
certainly those are the prettiest hands
:, that do most willingly the work they
~ were made for.
- And black Poppy's people could no
have received one of the graceful min
L istering spirits of the story books will
Id more eloquent gratitude than they die
RS the homely little girl and her heav!
basket OF pies Indeed. 10 those hal
al starved beings she was a vision OF love
r illness. a real angel of mercy. - New