"I
guess it's about as good a one as can be got--they said 'twas, down
there. Sam White he was in there, and he said 'twas; he said I was goin'
to get it in pretty good season for Thanksgivin', he thought."
"I don't think it's such very extra season, the day before
Thanksgivin'," said Mrs. Little.
"Well, I don't think 'twas, nuther. I didn't see jest what Sam meant by
it."
Ann Mary was dumb with admiration. When the turkey was laid on the broad
shelf in the pantry, she went and gazed upon it. In the afternoon there
was great enjoyment seeing it stuffed and made ready for the oven.
Indeed, this day was throughout one of great enjoyment, being full of
the very aroma of festivity and good cheer and gala times, and even
sweeter than the occasion which it preceded. Ann Mary had only one
damper all day, and that was the non-arrival of a letter. Mrs. Little
had invited her son and his family to spend Thanksgiving, but now they
probably were not coming, since not a word in reply had been received.
When Mr. Little said there was no letter in the post-office, Ann Mary's
face fell. "Oh, dear," said she, "don't you suppose Lucy will come,
grandma?"
"No," replied her grandmother, "I don't. Edward never did such a thing
as not to send me word when he was comin', in his life, nor Maria
neither. I ain't no idee they'll come."
"Oh, dear!" said Ann Mary again.
"Well, you'll have to make up your mind to it," returned her
grandmother.
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