“I think so,” said she encouragingly. “That is, if you take your medicine nicely,” she added, approaching the bed with a large spoon in one hand and the bottle in the other.
Susan shut her eyes and opened her mouth. Down went the medicine, and, without a whimper and with only a wry face to tell how she really felt, Susan smiled bravely up at Grandmother.
“A good child,” said Grandmother approvingly. “I’m sure you will be downstairs to-morrow.”
Now to-morrow had come, and Susan, slipping out of bed and into her warm rosy wrapper and slippers, trotted downstairs in search of some one.
She found Grandmother quite alone, save for a delicious smell in the air of roasting turkey. Grandmother was busy baking, but she stopped long enough to help Susan dress and to answer a few of the questions that tumbled pell-mell from Susan’s lips.
“Where is Grandfather? Gone to Thanksgiving service at church. You slept late this morning, Susan. When will Phil be home? Not for two weeks. They have all gone to his grandfather’s for Thanksgiving, and they mean to visit his Great-Uncle Fred, who gave him his electric train, on their way back.”
“Is any one coming here for Thanksgiving, Grandmother?” asked Susan, delicately eating a bowl of bread and milk for breakfast from one end of the table on which Mrs. Whiting was stirring up a cake.
“Miss Liza is coming,” answered Mrs. Whiting, stopping her work and putting down her spoon. “I may as well tell you now, Susan, I suppose. Miss Lunette is married.”
Susan looked at Grandmother for a moment without speaking. How unkind of Miss Lunette to have a wedding while she was away!
“Didn’t she save me any cake?” she asked at length. “Did Phil go to the wedding?”