CHAPTER XVII
A SUBSTITUTE GUEST
Thanksgiving Day came late that year. The red-lettered Thursday on the calendar didn't appear until the last part of the month. But winter had set in early, and already there was fine coasting and skating.
Marjorie loved all out-of-door sports, and the jolly afternoons spent on the hill or on the lake sent her home with cheeks as rosy as a hard, sound, winter apple.
The Thanksgiving season always meant festivity of some sort. Sometimes they all went to Grandma Sherwood's in orthodox traditional fashion, and sometimes they went to Grandma Maynard's, who lived in New York.
But this year Mr. and Mrs. Maynard expected friends of their own, some grown-ups from the city, to spend the holiday.
"No children!" exclaimed Marjorie, when she heard about it.
"No, Midge," said her mother. "You must help me entertain my guests this time, as I sometimes help you entertain yours."
"Indeed you do, you sweetest mother in all the world!" cried impetuous Midget, as she flung herself into her mother's arms. Midget's embraces were of the strenuous order, and, though Mrs. Maynard never warded them off, she was often obliged to brace herself for the sudden impact.
"And I'll help you a heap," went on Marjorie. "What can I do? May I make Indian pudding with raisins in it?"