A poor-looking woman opened it, and behind her the Trippertrots could see a whole lot of hungry-looking children. Oh! how very hungry they were!
“Well, what is it, please?” asked the woman, as she looked at Tommy and Johnny and Mary Trippertrot.
“If—if you please,” spoke Tommy, as he lifted up the big turkey to her, “here is your Thanksgiving dinner.”
“My Thanksgiving dinner!” exclaimed the woman, and a few teardrops came into her eyes, while Mary could hear the hungry children, who were standing behind her, sort of gasping, and making their tongues go around inside their mouths. “My Thanksgiving dinner!” said the woman again. “Bless your dear little heart, I’m not going to have any Thanksgiving dinner. We—we’re too poor!” she said. “There must be some mistake. You are at the wrong house. Thanksgiving dinner! Why—why, I haven’t had a real Thanksgiving dinner since I was a little girl,” and she turned around to look at her poor little children standing behind her.
“Well, you’re going to have one now,” said Mary Trippertrot. “This is yours.”
“No, no!” exclaimed the woman. “You are at the wrong house.”
“It can’t be the wrong house!” cried Johnny. “The grocery horse stopped here himself, and I guess he knows where the dinner belongs. Let’s take it in, Tommy and Mary.”
So into the house went the Trippertrots, carrying the Thanksgiving dinner. Oh, what a dinner it was! There were oranges, and apples, and nuts, and candy, and white grapes, and bread, and butter, and potatoes, and the big turkey, of course; and celery, and cranberries, and some cookies and cakes, and, oh! I couldn’t tell you what else there was! The table was piled quite full.
“Are you sure it’s for us?” asked the poor woman. “I don’t think we ought to keep it.”
“Oh—oh, mamma!” cried one of the poor little girls—and there were about four boys and seven girls in that poor family—“oh, mamma—don’t—don’t—please don’t send it away. We are so hungry.”