"But," said Mabel, "if it is not a matter of thanksgiving, then I won't be married at all; if it is, then it must be very proper to choose that day."
And that day was chosen.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Jenny McNair, coming in from school about a week before Thanksgiving. "What a horrid lonesome house this is! It is the worst place when I come in at night after being with the girls all day. Nobody to speak to, nobody to welcome me. I wish—"
"What do you wish, my daughter?" asked Judge McNair, who unexpectedly appeared at the parlour door, while Jenny talked to herself as she threw off her wraps in the hall.
She hesitated, then spoke out quickly, with something in the tone that begged pardon for her suggestion.
"I just wish you'd get me a mamma! I'm sick and tired of living so. Nobody to fix my clothes or curl my hair, help me out with my lessons, or do anything that I want done. All the girls are talking about Thanksgiving, going to have family parties, and everything nice." Looking up, she saw a curious smile on her father's face.
"Well, Jenny," he said, "come in here, and I'll tell you something. I mean this shall be a real Thanksgiving for you and Duncan."
It was a very pleasant little talk they had, and at the close Jenny said—
"Does Dunny know?"
"Yes, I told him this afternoon," replied her father, a little sadly; however, the sad inflection escaped Jenny's notice, so busy was she with her own glad thoughts. Duncan did not appear at tea-time. Jenny wondered, and Mr. McNair looked troubled but made no remark.