The Pleasantville press. (Pleasantville, N.J.) 1912-1929, 1923-11-21

breakfast and had come in all cold
and rosy to gulp down pancakes and
strip and eggs and bacon.
And then, no matter how great the
feast nor how much remained TO be
done, the six of them were dressed In
Sunday best and the family trailed
down the white street to church, meet
ing neighbors on the way, smiling,
chatting, asking whether it was a tur-
KEY or a chicken bill of fare this time,
growing soberer as they trailed into
the little white church and down to
the pew that held the six of them each
Sabbath. And then the triumphant
Thanksgiving hymns and paeans from
the choir, the ermon of plenty from
the pastor, and the yellow winter sun
streaming through the stained win
dows. The benediction, the moment
of chat and good will from %neighbor
to neighbor, a little herd guided down
the steps where they burst from
church sobriety into the puppy spirits
demanded by a cold, snappy day.
Home again and the last scramble
for the feast-the girls setting the
table with the best linen, silver and
china, with a bowl of tiny yellow
'chrysanthemums from the backyard
bush, the trips down cellar for a can
Of relish: tiny, firm pickles; some
chill sauce; Strawberries, and the
squash and carrots and turnips and
potatoes and onions, each with its part
TO play in the feast.
The turkey or duck stuffed with
spicy dressing was cracking away in
the oven, father was out in the garden
exhuming some celery put to bleach
fer the occasion a month or so ago,
the boys were cracking nuts and pol
ishing apples-how sweet it was to do
her work in her W place for those
who needed and enjoyed this work
how serene and sure and peaceful.
How had it come about? What had
life lone to her, to them? Her friends,
her p%eiehbors thoueh. that life had
used her kindly. Death had eve
knocked at the door of her fold. Sick
ness had been almost unknown. In
the eyes of the world, her children had
turned out well.' Tom was council
man in a big city and n prominent
business attorney. He had married "a
nice girl" and no n could ask for
prettier, better hammered grandchil-
dren than this family had given her.
Alice had married a physician and
was prominent socially and in club
work. Mother and Father Bell rarely
picked up a Sunday paper without
seeing a picture of Mrs. John Ora
ham, or one or other of the little
Grahams, who We're included among
those prominent in the juvenile set"
Bob was a successful merchant and
active in furthering employee welfare
work. Ruth had never married, but
was more than successful as a home
decorator. She travelled all she want
ed to, dressed beautifully, maintained
a charming apartment, was invited to
the homes of those whom the world
calls "great"-no, there was not one
Of her children who had not done
well' or was anything but q credit to
the parents.
And yet, why did a mother hunger
so even If her children were all that
she had ever hoped for them? Why
must heartaches and loneliness be the
price to pay for this very success?
Why did such a sense of bafiled puz-
Element fill her at the Thanksgiving
table? Why did their coming not sat
isfy? Why did this longing for the
other days persist in Selling her?
She knew the answer Knew that
their very success, their very homes,
their very children, meant that her
work was done. 1t was but a visit
of a day, and as such had no faintest
connection with the yester-year feast
days which meant one home, one inter-
est, n working and playing niche for
all. She and their father and their
life's groove then. Today they are
making those grooves for others and
finling their own therein.
There are thousands of fathers and
mothers the country over who find only
poignant loneliness and even bitterness
in a repetition of the feast days which