Mr. Little and Ann Mary did not go to church as usual, on that account.
The old man did not like to drive to the village before the roads were
beaten out. Mrs. Little lamented not a little over it. It was the custom
for her husband and granddaughter to attend church Thanksgiving
morning, while she stayed at home and cooked the dinner. "It does seem
dreadful heathenish for nobody to go to meetin' Thanksgivin' Day," said
she; "an' we ain't even heard the proclamation read, neither. It rained
so hard last Sabbath that we couldn't go."
The season was unusually wintry and severe, and lately the family had
been prevented from church-going. It was two Sundays since any of the
family had gone. The village was three miles away, and the road was
rough. Mr. Little was too old to drive over it in very bad weather.
When Ann Mary went to carry the plate of Thanksgiving dinner to Sarah
Bean, she wore a pair of her grandfather's blue woollen socks drawn over
her shoes to keep out the snow. The snow was rather deep for easy
walking, but she did not mind that. She carried the dinner with great
care; there was a large plate well filled, and a tin dish was turned
over it to keep it warm. Sarah Bean was an old woman who lived alone.
Her house was about a quarter of a mile from the Littles'.
When Ann Mary reached the house, she found the old woman making a cup of
tea. There did not seem to be much of anything but tea and
bread-and-butter for her dinner.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50