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Show 1 QThe Qobbler Is Suspicious I t - j A s .. it - - r1 .& k iftvjr. s V J , j ' Cit ",TN i 1 Kpr 'V iJ IK v k "wv r Frajik Hevbert SjJect (. 1923, Western Newspaper Union.) lrj5vJjijRS- MORGAN" Bertha i?ftl Pause(i under the win-( win-( 'WjPI ow wnere ner friend's r iyJ mother sat sewing iBi si "Where's Bess?" "Out with the chickens, chick-ens, I suppose," Mrs. Morgan laughed. "That's where we always look If we can't find her." With a hasty word of thanks Bertha hurried on. She forgot her errand when Bess emerged from the chicken yard, a goad-sized fowl in either hand. As they swung head downward, their wings parOy spread and their beaks open. Bertha cried, "Are they dead?" "No, indeed. But I'm going to shut them up to fatten them for Thanksgiving. Thanks-giving. They're the most no-account hens," said Bess, severely. "The black one started Jo set, and then after two weeks she (ibandoned her nest and I'd have lost a whole setting of eggs If another hen hadn't been wanting to set just at that minute. And the gray brought off a nice brood of eleven and killed six by stepping on them." Apparently Bertha was not interested inter-ested in the account of the two "no- "They're the Most No-Account Hens," Said Bui, Severely. account" hens. She looked at her friend thoughtfully. "It's queer you should have said anything about Thanksgiving now." "Why?" "Because that's just what I was coming com-ing to see you about. You know little Una Dolittle? She's in Marian's grade at school." "I don't know as I know Lina, but I know the Dolittles. There's a perfect per-fect swarm of them, all pretty near ihe same size, like a brood of chickens' chick-ens' "WpP. yesiprrtar on the way from school, Lina came out with this, 'Oh, yes, I know Thanksgiving. It's the day we're glad we haven't broken our legs.' " "What did the child mean?" "Well, nobody knew, of course, and the others began to question her, and so Lina explained. She said some people had turkey for Thanksgiving, but they only had Irish stew. But their mother said they ought to be thankful anyway, for it would be so much worse if they had broken their legs and couldn't sit up at the table to eat their stew." The girls looked at each other. "She must be a nice woman," Bess said, thoughtfully, "to bring her children up like that." "Yes, but, Bess, think of people sitting sit-ting down to Irish stew on Thanksgiving Thanks-giving day, and trying to be thankful because their legs aren't broken. Seems to me it's time somebody got busy." The somebody, of course, meant herself and Bess. They were 1 iii''ht"4'r;;''i';-S''' And Then Bess Knocked Loudly Upon the Door. in the same classes at school, and seatmates. Bess nodded. "Good idea, Bertha. We'll fix up the Dolittles a Thanksgiving dinner, and we'll really give what we send, and not ask our folks to help a bit. I'll give Esther." "What?" "Oh, Queen Esther. That's the name of the speckled hen. I named her when she was a pullet, before I knew how she was going to turn out. When she's plump and fat she'll make a fine Thanksgiving dinner. So that will make her some good." "I put up a lot of vegetables from my garden," said Bertha. "Peas and string beans and tomatoes. I'll give a can of each, and a glass of currant Jelly." "Splendid," Bess cried. "Why, that's quite a Thanksgiving dinner in Itself. But we might let some of the other girls help." When the subject was broached the next day, Beatrice Collins pledged herself to contribute two pies, Anna Briggs made herself responsible for two loaves of bread, and butter enough to spread them generously. Mae Barton Bar-ton agreed to bring potatoes, both sweet and white, and a package of sugar. Beulah Ashbrook thought that a Thanksgiving dinner was Incomplete without cranberry sauce, and made that her donation. And little Blanche Webster, who was rather younger than the others, and the pet of the class, volunteered to make fudge. "If they can't eat it at dinner time they'll dispose dis-pose of it before the day Is done," she said wisely. As the weeks went b, the girls enjoyed en-joyed the Thanksgiving dinner in anticipation. an-ticipation. Bess reported that Queen Esther was putting on flesh steadily. "It's the only thing die ever has done the way she should," she said. "She's been an absolute failure, except in getting fat." , The afternoon before Thanksgiving they met at Bertha's house to pack the baskets, more than one being needed, for Miss Bailey, the teacher, had contributed a dozen oranges and an equal number of beautiful red apples. And as the girls worked, Bertha's Ber-tha's mother called from the next room that she would suggest the girls call themselves a swarm of buzzing bees. With the heavy baskets the girls made their way to the little cottage which sheltered the Dolittle family. They placed their load upon the steps, and all the girls but Bess, who was the fleetest of the lot, made their way back to the shelter of a tumbledown board fence. And then Bess knocked loudly upon the door and fled across the snow as lightly as a frightened rabbit. From their refuge behind the old fence they saw the door open. They saw Mr. Dolittle, a lighted lamp In his hands, stand there looking about him, and call, "Mother." They saw Mrs. Dolittle come hurrying, and then the children flock out, the little ones in their nightgowns, and the shrieks of rapture as the baskets were brought in, needed no interpretation. Until the door closed, not a word was spoken by the plotters behind1 the fence. Then Bess, who had been kneeling, watching the scene through a crack, arose and shook the snow from her dress. "I don't know what the rest of you think," she said, "but ' I feel as if I'd had all the Thanksgiving Thanks-giving I deserve right now." |