She was very deaf and infirm, all her
joints shook when she tried to use them, and her voice quavered when she
talked. She took the plate, and her hands trembled so that the tin dish
played on the plate like a clapper. "Why," said she, overjoyed, "this
looks just like Thanksgiving Day, tell your grandma!"
"Why, it _is_ Thanksgiving Day," declared Ann Mary, with some wonder.
"What?" asked Sarah Bean.
"_It is Thanksgiving Day, you know._" But it was of no use, the old
woman could not hear a word. Ann Mary's voice was too low.
Ann Mary could not walk very fast on account of the snow. She was absent
some three-quarters of an hour; her grandmother had told her that dinner
would be all on the table when she returned. She was enjoying the nice
things in anticipation all the way; when she came near the house, she
could smell roasted turkey, and there was also a sweet spicy odor in the
air.
She noticed with surprise that a sleigh had been in the yard. "I wonder
who's come," she said to herself. She thought of Lucy, and whether they
_could_ have driven over from the village. She ran in. "Why, who's
come?" she cried out.
Her voice sounded like a shout in her own ears; it seemed to awaken
echoes. She fairly startled herself, for there was no one in the room.
There was absolute quiet through all the house. There was even no
sizzling from the kettles on the stove, for everything had been dished
up.
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