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The Thanksgiving Guest

The Thanksgiving Guest image
Parent Issue
Day
23
Month
November
Year
1877
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

" We should be thankf ulier if we were going to haveturkey, andplum-pudding, and nuts, and raisins, and everything nice for dessert; if we were going to have lots of company, and lived in a big nouse, like we used to, we should be a good deal thanktuller, shouldn't we, mamma ?" said Say, with íather a rueful face at the cold joint of meat that was to serve as their Tharjksgiving dinner. " We ought to be just as thankf ui for what we have, my dear," snid Mrs. Harris. "We'llmake believe that we have just as good as anybody, and forget all about the turkey and plum-pudding. Poor folks should be just as thankful as rieli ones. " She tried to speak cheerfully, but sharp-eyed little Say saw that her eyes were moist. "But I do want plum-pudding. I sarnt be thankful !" shouted Will, in most unorthodox rebellion. And he began to cry lustily. "Be quiet, Will," said Say, "and I'll teil you the story mamma told me last night while you were sleeping." "No, no!' persisted Will. "I will have - " "Once there were two little brooks born side by side up in a great mountain," began Say, and bis tears were stayed with surprising suddenness. "Now these were merry little brooks, and they played together for a long time in a little green hollow on the top of the mountain ; but when they grew larger and older, and their voices, so clear and ringing, were heard far down in the valley, their Queen thought it was time they ahould be doing something in the world, and bade them set out for the river as soon as they eould. And they were glad enough to obey her, for they were tired of running in one little green place. " " I say I waat plum-pudding !" piped Will again, the absence of giants making the story rather tame to his critica! e ars, But Say went on, never heeding the interruption : " So they started together one sunshiny morning. They took great leaps over the rocks; they struggled through little fairy foresta of fern. When it was dark they sang to themselves to keep from being frightened ; and when it was bright they laughed and shouted so that all the biras began to mimic them. And at last, after they had traveled very far, they found themselves in a merry green meadow. " ' Wliat a wide world it is !' said one little brook, blinking its eyes with surprise. " ' And what a bonnie one !' said the other, tripping a blue-bell that stood in its way. "They found so many friends in the meadow that they eould hardly get along for greeting this one and that one. There were the daisies, keeping house in little grassy tents, who sent them an invitation to diñe. The roses nodded at them, and begged them not to hurry so so f ast. The birds pressed them to attend a grand concert in the woods near by. The butter-cups rustled their satin dresses, and begged them to come and sit at their feet, if only for one moment; and the been, though they were alwars so busy, half promised to keep holinay with them, if they would wait. 'Letusstay,' said one little broök to the other, ' See höw dark our path is grüwing before ub; and it is so pleasant aud sunny here, and there are such merry folks to keep us company. Surely, we need not hurry to reach the riverand we liave traveled such a long distance. Why shouldn't we have a holiday nowS' " But the other little brook said : " 'No. Ihave holidays enough, and X shall hasten on. The Queen Baid it wa? 1D?e I was doing good in the world, and I long to be in the river, and belp carry the beautiful ships.' '"WeHsfiid tíie other little brook you can go, but I shall stay here until mghtfall. And, when you are in that dreadiully dark wood, you will look back at me playing in the sunshine, and wish you had stayed with me. I'm sure ' 8o they kissed each other good-by over the nose of a blue-bell, and wen their separate ways. It was dark ani fearful in the woods ; the trees frowned down on the little brook like tall, grim giants, and it eould not see the sky. Bu it kept heart by singing a merry song and before it had time to grow discour aged it reached the river. The grea wide sky, without a cloud, was bending over it, and all the waves were fllled with strange, beautiful voices. It feit grea saus rustle over it; it seemed to be carried along in the arms of cool winds, without any effort of its own; and its heart was filled with a delight it had never dreamed of before. "Sut the little brook found it se pleasant in the meadows that lie forgot after a while that there was any othei life than that; that -there Was anything to do in the world but to kiss a daisy-buc and flatter a rose. When he did get tired of it at last, and remembered that he was on the way to the river, he found he had lost hispath; and, aftera long and vain search for it, flnally died of weariness in the noontide heat. And nobody remembered or cared anything about it only a forlorn little bird, that had loved lts singing. He carne and mourned a little in its vacant place, but he thought, after all, what a f oolish brook it was, for it might have lived f orever, when it only lived a day." Will looked rather bewildered, bnt seemed deeply impressed by the rewarded virtue of the good brook, and clamored no more for plum-pudding. Say had made the moral of the story rather more prominent than her mother had done when she had told it to her. " Mamma," said Say, after a little serious meditation, " things happen to everybody else; why doesn't anything happen to us ? Every thing's always just the same. Nobody comes to see us, and we never go to see anybody; and you do nothing but just work, work, all the time. There ia Hetty Eaton, she's poor, too, but lier únele carne Lome from sea one day and brought lier a parrot; and sometimes two aunts come to see lier. Tiien there's little Mary Murphy, she's awful poor; lier ínother washes, but she's going to have company to-day. Her motber told her she might invite Bridget Collins. I wish I could invite somebody to dinner. Wouldn't it seem more thaukfui to have somebody besides ourselves, anyway ?" "Who would you invite, mydear?" saidMrs.Harris,laughing. " Idon'tknow of anyone who would be likely to come, with the exception of oíd Únele Toljy. He would be highly flattered by an invitation from you, I' ve no doubt." Únele Toby was an oíd colored man, who sawed wood in the neighborhood, and with whom May was very intímate. She was socially inclined, and made :riends with him in the street. "Únele Toby has been invited to his ■laughter's and he is going to have turiey for dinner," said Say, regretfully. The unfortunate mention of turkey roused Will again, who, after the quietmg influence of Say's story, had been meditatively pulling off the head of his sister's rubber doll. "Don't fret, Will, and I'll take you out to walk, after I have helped mamma set the table," said Say, coaxingly. "Mamma, if I meet any body white .'m out - any very poor body, perhaps - who-wouldnotbe likely to have asgood a dinner as ours, may I ask her to come and dine with us ? May I ask anybody hat I please ? I'll only ask one." And Mrs. Harris, whose thoughts were far away in happier Thanksgiving lays, said yes, though she had not heeded Say's question. So Say smoothed every ■wrmkle out of the snowy table-oloth, arranged all the dishes wíth the meest care, and, after everything else was completed, she plucked a bright scarlet blossom from her geranium, and, shading it in the most artistic manner with a few green leaves, placed it in the center of the table in a little crystal vase. The sunshine came in, and made a great brightness of its rich petals, the glasses sparkled like silver, and Say thought things did begin to look a little like Thanksgiving, after all. It was a clear, bright day, with just enough snow on the ground to make it look like winter. Say's shoes were so thin and old that her feet were cold, but she had grown so light-hearted all of a sudden that she id not mind it at all. "Mamma says sometimes that she 'eels as if something was going to hap)en, and I feel exactly so now," she renarked to Will, who trudged sturdily long by her side. "And it's somethiug ood, Will - something yery good, remember." "I'se been good to-day, haven'tl?" aid Will, doubtfully. He had implicit aith in Say, and the idea of auy good ling's happening made him reflect that ie might be shut out in the cold. The )ad boys in Say's stories were always s mercilcssly punished as the good ones were vigorously rewarded. " Well, pretty good," said Say, wishng to be as indulgent as her conscience wouid allow. " I think I shotdd be gooder if I were o have some candy," he remarked, as ïey stood bef ore the tempting window f a confectioner's shop. Say never could pass that window without peeping in. It was a little conolation to be allowed to look at such ood things. There was a great candy astle in the center, with a little candy ady standing in the door, taking a view f the tempting heaps of bonbons that were piled up in her dooryard. Will wished he was in her place. Then there were dainty little baskets full of chocoate cream-drops and caramels, and wine drops; gilded sheaves full of rich-colored fruits, a great cake under a white frosting of lilies; and in the midst of this wilderness of sweets, in the courtyard of the castle, playea a clear little fountain, whose trickle was wonderfully suggestive of melted sugar. " Couldn't you get only one checkerberry peppermint?" pleaded Will, catching at Say's drese. " No, dear, not to-day. I haven 't nny penniei. Some day I will. " "Well, I oftn't be good without it," he announced, desperately; and began to cry with all liis might. "Dearme!" said Say; "I ought to have known better than to stop here with him. Will, you must stop crying, or I shall take you home now. Some day I'll buy you a lot of candy, if you are good." " 'Taint no use to be good," said Will, despairingly. ' ' I haa been good. " "Whafs the mntter with the little boy ü" said a gelitlemun, wJio had been standing nearby for gome time, strangely observant of Say's pretty -fristful face under the old red hood. "Wants candy," said Will, speaking for himself . Say blufihed and tried to draw him away from the spot; but a ray of hope had crept into his greedy little ïnind, and he refused to stir an inch. "Will you teil me what your name is ?" said the gentleman, coming nearer, and bending over poor mortified Say. " My name is Sarah Fairlee Harris," said she, smiling up into his face. "1 like uva. He looks good," she thought ; " and he is so bandsome ! He looks like the picture of the brave kiiight in my story-book." The gentleman changed color, and looked down at the child's ragged old boots and faded gown with an expression in his face that puzzled her verv mnch. "And what's the name of the boy that wants candy ? " he said, pinching wUl's chubby cheek. "William," said he, smiling with great amiability through his tears. " Well, I suppose he mavas well haye candy, if lie wants it. " And he rushed into the store beíore Say could say a woed. " O Will ! what will mamma say? You just the same as asked the gentleman to give you candy ! " Will could not be bronght to feel his guilt, but expressed himself as being confident in Lis own goodness, and was quite satisfied with the world just then. In a few moments the gentleman appeared, perfeotly laden with dainties. 3uch a reckless profusión of chocolate cream-drops, caramels, cocoa-nut cakes and kisses had never fallen to the lot of either of the chiidren before. " O sir, how very good you are 1 " Say exclaimed. "But I ain afraid mamma will not like it." As for Will, he could hardly believe lis own senses ; and his eyes shone as much with wonder as delight. " Do you live near here ? " asked the gentleman. "I believe I used to know ycrar mother. I used to know her when she was a little girl, no larger than you are. Weren't you named for her ? You certainly are very like the little Say Tairlee I used to go to school with. " "Why, how nice," said Say, "to ihink that you used to know mamma when she was a little girl ! I -was named 'or her ; papa named me." Therewas a bit of a cloud oh her riend's face when she named papa that id not escape öay's notice. "Ifyou used to know mamma once, )'rapsyou'd like toknow heragain. And ' wish you'd come home with us," said süe, artlessly. "I'd like to have you dine with us, and so would mamma, I'm si;re, only" - and she hesitated - "we ain't going to have turkey or plum-pudding; not a nice dinDer at all. We are very poor, you know, and mamma has had to work very hard since papa died to get any dinners." " Then your papa is dead ? " "Yes,"said Say, sorrowfully, "he's been dead ever since Will was a wee bit of a baby - a very long time." And she did not approve of the gentleman as highly as she had done, beoause he ly looked pleased that her papa was dead. "Ishouldbe deliglited to go home with you," said lie. "I'm a stranger in the village, and a hotel Thanksgiving dinner isn't likely to ma-ke one feel verv thankful." "I'raafraid you won'i like our dinner; it's pretty bad, but then, -we can have cocoa-nut cakes for dessert, you bought so many. " But before they reached home, her fears on that score had entirely vanished, and she was sure that Mr. Marsh - he had told her what his name was - was the very nicest gentleman she ever saw, as well as the handsomest. She chatted with him incessantly until she reached the door of their house. She confided to him all her little trials, all her little joys, and all mamma's grief and trouble, and he listened to her with such an interested, sympathetic face ! " Won't mamma be s'prised ? " she said, leading the way into the poor little kitchen, that served tliem as diningroom and sitting-room also. And mamma was " s'prised " when she saw the tall stranger enter in such an unceremonious way. " I invited some one to dinner!" explained Say, triumphantly. " You surely hayen't forgotten me entirely, Sarah ? " said the stranger, approaching her, and holding out his hand. "Frank!" she exclaimed; and grew so white that Say feared she was ill. Then, to the little girl's utter amazement, what did Mr. Marsh do, but put his arms around her and kiss her ! Say's sense of propriety was dreadfully shocked, and she looked on with severity. But things grew worse and worse. Mamma placed her hand on his shoulder, and cried, and he comf orted her with all sorts of endearing words and tender assurances. And they talked about things that sho did not understand at all - something about a mistake, and losing a letter ; and all the while they seemed to forget that there was any one else but themselves in the world. " My dear little Say," said Mr. Marsh, at last, after they had said everything they had to say, ten times over, accordmg to Say's idea, and the forgotten dinner had grown quite cold on the table, "you don't know how dear a friend your mamma was to me. Do you know she promised to marry me long before ever she saw your papa? Then something happened - a mistake was made, and we were separated. She thought that I had ceased to care for her, and I thought sho had ceased to care for me ; and we never found out the truth of the matter uutil it was too late. And now, after I have missed her all these long years, she kas promised again to be my wife ; and if I have my way, we are to be married this very day. What do you say, Say - will you be satisfied to have we for a papa ? Are you glad you invited me to come and dine with you ?" Then Say repented of her severity, and aocepted him as her papa very graciously. "Mamma," she whispered, f uil of delight to see her so happy, " I think this is the thankfullest Thanksgiving we evpr had, after all !" And Will, with his mouth f uil of the remnants of the oamlyfeast, agreed with lier fully. It was ti thankfu} Tbanksgiring truly: - - - - and af ter that there was a very differen life for Say, and lier mother, and Will Mr. Marsh was a rich man, and he took thera away from the miserable little plaoe where they lived, to his own beautiiul home in town, the very next day. He and Mrs. Harria were married in the morning, and Say stood by her mother's side during the eeremony, the most dignified little bridesmaid in the ■world. And though she has never since then been obligcd to eat a cold dinner in a smoky little kitoben, ehe.looks back to it as the most delightful Thanksgiving day of her life. And so indeed do Mr. and Mrs. Frank Marsh, for its thankfulness has reaohed through all their other Thanksgi"ing days.

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus