The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1915-03-11
John Dwyer's Thank sgiving
BY ALICE C. COOPER.
EfN9s LIKE t'know whit I'VE
got to be thankful fur!"

anvil and sent out a shower OF sparks.
"All I've knowed in life is work.
Work and ingratitude!" He hit the
old anvil again with giant stroke,
and his neighbor and lifelong friend
who sat whiting stick glanced
furtively at him. His shrewd eyes
noted the contortions of the Adams
apple in his friend Johns throat, and
the uncontrolled muscles in the hard
old face.
Tut. tut, John,' he consoled.
"they's wuss things 'en work in this
world, heap wuss.'
"Oh, yes.' snorted John, much
YOU know about it! You never done
hard days work in your life. You've
always had money. You take trip
somewhere every Winter. While I'm
out shuckin corn in zero weather
somebody comes along and says:
Henry went to Calforny last night
Don't | know? YOU never got mar
ried and had a wife and children
hangin on you fur bread and butter!
| never had no chance; l never had no
eddycation; but I've paid fur schoolin'
son and daughter-and they don't
appreciate it, he said bitterly. Jim,
he has good practice, and Lucy,
she gifts big wages teachin', but
dyuh reckon they'd lift a finger to
raise the mortgage on this farm? Not
on your life! And tomorrow
Thanksgivin'p
He threw the hammer in the corner
of the shop and sat down deiectedly.
Come, now, John, you know you
don't think half of that" remon-
strated his friend "Perk up" he
warned. Here comes your wife,"
A woman turned the corner of the
shop with basket on her arm.
"Evenin', Henry" she said gen.
tally.
"Evenin', Ellen; John and me was
Just maxim bet. bet Thanksgivin'
come on the last Thursday in October
and John the last day" He winked
slyly at her. His laugh was so genu-
inc and hearty, John Dwyer grinned
wryly, In spite of himself.
"Doggone your usse dness,
Henry he said grudgingly. Ellen
Dwyer was large woman in middle
life. She had quantities of soft gray
hair and dark eyes. As she stood re-
garding the two men her look was
sarcasm, her tone rebuke.
Henry Miller" she frowned. II
wasn't born yesterday. John, want
you to kill that gobbler for dinner to-
morrow. Henry, you've got bid. |
don't know whether the childrenll
be here or not, but you and John and
NELL make out some way!" She
passed on to the hen house with the
basket on her arm. John Dwyer took
the pipe from his mouth and looked
at his friend Henry.
NOW, Mr.. Bachelor" he said grim
ly, "see what you purity near got me
into; she didn't believe you!'
HUH" chuckled Henry. "See
what l got you OUT of, you mean. "
Then, soberly: She'll never know
you were growlin because the Lord
has blessed you with a wife and chill
dren."
"Well," countered John, how'd
YOU like turkey dinner on Thanks
givin' with mortgage fur sass!"
John" said the man sadly, 'I'd
take your home with the mortgage,
in exchange for my life Of loneliness
and money. No, John, you don't
appreciate your blessings He rose
stiffly, and hobbled off down the
road.
blessings fiddlesticks. growled
John. He laid his pipe down and fell
to hammering piece of iron on the
anvil. The faster he hammered the
madder he got, and blessings fiddle
sticks" beat in rhythm with his furi-
Gus strokes so that he did not hear
the hired man until he shouted in
his ear:
"The mail, Mr.. Dwyer!" He relit
his pipe, and sat down to scan the
letters. There were three, and each
one was turned and examined min
utely before opening. After reading
them he crossed his arms and legs,
and smoked nervously, nodding and
pOndering; and reconsidering and di-
gesting in his mind the contents of
each.
'Fust, the notice to vacate, no fur
ther extension of time on the mort
gage I'm to be thankful fur THAT.
Then, Jim's letter, sayin he's afeard
he'd be detained in the city and
couldn't be with us. Huh! Then
Lucy, little Lucy" He dropped his
head in his hands. THAT hurts clear
tn tha hone - he nroanad HShc