“I shall wash,” said Olive, grabbing another apron. “Dan and Dad shall wipe. Molly Merrill, you may gather up the food and put it away. Mr. Merrill may scrape the dishes.”
Everybody did what Olive said. In half an hour all the kettles and dishes were clean and in place. The dish-wipers were rinsed and hung to dry and the kitchen was tidy and cosy. There was nothing to do but enjoy themselves.
Olive and Uncle Dan went out to walk. They said they needed exercise. The rest went into the parlor and sat before the open fire. Mr. Merrill got out the marionettes and began to whittle.
Mr. Gates was much interested. He took a piece of wood and opened his own knife. He said he used to do something in that line himself.
On the edge of the open stove the children put some chestnuts to roast. Father had brought them purposely for the evening. Each nut had slits cut on one side. If this were not done, the heated nut would sometimes shoot across the room or even explode. Lucy and Dora had learned that it was best to cut the slit.
Mother brought her knitting and the children sat on the floor and watched the chestnuts and Mr. Merrill and Mr. Gates whittling.
“It is a good plan,” said Mr. Merrill, “to put into words sometimes how much we have to be thankful for. Now I am glad I have a home and a family and a paying job. What are you thankful for, Mother?”
“For my home and my family, and yes—for my job, too,” said Mother with a little laugh. “That my husband never drinks and that Dan is a good lad.”
“I am thankful for my daughter,” said Mr. Gates, “even though I expect to go shares in her some day.”
“Your turn, Lucy,” said Mr. Merrill, smiling.