CHAPTER SIXTH.
THE FASHIONABLE LADY AND HER SON.
All the next day, being the Wednesday before thanksgiving, was alive and busy with the various preparations for the great festival, now held to be a sacred holiday throughout this wide-spread union. The lark had no sooner called morning in the meadow than Mopsey, who seemed to regard herself as having the entire weight of the occasion on her single shoulders, slipped from bed, hurried to the garden, and taking a last look at the great pumpkin as it lay in all its golden glory, severed the vine at a stroke and trundled it with her own arms, (she saw with a smile of pity the poor brown mouse skulking off, like a little pirate as he was, disappointed of his prize,) in at the back-door. The Peabodys were gathering for breakfast, and coming forward, stood at either side of the entrance regarding the pumpkin with profound interest. It fairly shook the house as it rolled in upon the kitchen floor.
When little Sam, who had lingered in bed beyond the others, with pleasant dreams, came down stairs, he was met by young William Peabody.
"What do you think, Sam?" said Peabody Junior, smiling.
"I suppose Aunt Carrack has come," Sam answered. "It's nothing to me if she has."
"No, that isn't it.—Turkey's dead!"
Little Sam dropped a tear, and went away by himself to walk in the garden. Little Sam took no breakfast that morning.