CHAPTER IV
THE-ONE-WHO-WAS-LEFT-ALIVE
The traditional Thanksgiving dinner was a ceremony never omitted at the Spellman homestead, even though there had been years when Miss Sophia had eaten it quite alone, with a determination rather grim than grateful. This year, there were the two elderly sisters, alone in their generation, yet with little in common save their family history and childhood memories, and the little maid from sun-steeped plains of far-off Dakota who sat sedately between them, plying her knife and fork with a decorum that even Miss Sophia could not gainsay. Now and again her black eyes darted keenly from one subdued face to the other, as if in search of something; a “trick,” Miss Sophia said, that made her “as nervous as a witch!”
The long, heavy, and, to tell the truth, rather silent and oppressive meal had come to an end at last, with pumpkin pie and Indian pudding made punctiliously after the old family recipes, and a mold of “quaking jelly,” that had been a favorite of Lucy’s from childhood. After the black coffee was brought in, Stella slid her nuts and raisins into her pocket, and rose at a nod from her foster-mother.
“Mrs. Maloney will wash the dishes to-day, dear,” she said. “You may go out now, or do anything you like for the rest of the day. And I think I hear Cynthia’s whistle,” she added, indulgently.
Miss Sophia sighed aggressively. That clear, boyish whistle was a fresh offense in her ears.
“Go out by the side door, Stella; and, whatever you do, don’t let in that dog with his great, muddy feet!” she commanded; sure that, if Cynthia were coming, Scotty could not be far off.
“Come on down to Doris’ house,” burst out Sin, before the door was fairly open. “It’s always lots of fun down there; her mother lets us crack nuts and pop corn and everything. Mother has a headache again and I mustn’t make any noise around home, and of course it’s solemn as a church here—’t always is. Can’t you come, Jibby?” she begged, anxiously.
(The new name was short for “Ojibway,” invented to tease the little Sioux girl, but Yellow Star accepted it, as she did most things, with quite stoical composure.)
“Yes, I can, Sin; I can do anything I want all the rest of to-day,” she answered, gravely. “But oh! do let’s go to the woods!”