The boys stamped the snow from their feet and entered the cabin. There were two rooms downstairs and two up. In the apartment they entered was a stove in which a wood fire burned. In one corner stood a table with a few dishes on it, and there was a cupboard. Some chairs completed the furnishings. Close to the fire, clad in a ragged dress, sat a little girl. The boys needed but one glance to see that the family was in dire straits.
“My name is Perry,” the woman said. “I live here with my two daughters. The town of Kirkville supports us. The poormaster brought some food last week but he hasn’t been here this week, and we are afraid he can not come because of the storm. Otherwise I could offer you something to eat,” and she turned aside her head to hide her tears.
“Don’t cry, mother,” exclaimed the child who had been sitting near the fire. “We’re not very hungry, and maybe the snow will stop. We had a nice Thanksgiving last year—and—and—”
“I’m afraid we’ll have a poor one to-morrow,” Mrs. Perry replied. “But boys, come closer to the fire. You must be cold. At least we have plenty of wood. That is free, and my daughters gathered a lot the other day in the woods.”
“Mrs. Perry—ahem, ma’am—that is—er—I mean—Oh, hang it! Ain’t any of you going to help a fellow out!” exclaimed Ned, clearing his throat with unnecessary violence. “What I mean is we’ve got a lot of things to eat, on our sled. We’d be glad to have you—Oh, here! Boys come on out and bring in some of the things!” and before the astonished woman knew what was happening Ned and his chums were out in the snow fairly tearing the things off the sled. In they trooped again, bearing turkeys, rabbits, and a lot of the camp food they had not eaten.
“Oh, it’s just like Santa Claus!” cried the little girl. “I knew we’d have Thanksgiving, mommey!”
But Mrs. Perry was crying, with her head down on the table.
Indeed the room did look as if it was ready for some sort of holiday feast. It was fairly crowded with the things the boys had brought in.
“I don’t—don’t know what to say,” Mrs. Perry exclaimed, as she dried her eyes. “Are you sure you can spare so much?”
“Spare it? Say we’ve eaten so much lately we’ll be sick!” broke in Bart, with a laugh. “Now we’ll make a better fire, and if you’ll get some of these turkeys and rabbits ready you can have a dinner. There’s some other things,—canned stuff, you know.”