CHAPTER XI
THANKSGIVING WITH THE NESBITS
“I am sure I never before had so much to be thankful for!” was Grace Harlowe’s fervent declaration as she viewed with loving eyes the little circle of friends of which she was the center.
It was Thanksgiving eve, and the Nesbits had gathered under their hospitable roof a most congenial company to help them commemorate America’s first holiday. Mr. and Mrs. Harlowe, in company with Mrs. Gray, had come from Oakdale. J. Elfreda Briggs had won a reluctant consent from her family, who invariably spent their Thanksgivings at Fairview, to make one of Miriam’s house party. Anne, who was playing an extended engagement in New York City, was transplanted from the Southards’ to Miriam’s home for a week’s stay. There were, of course, many loved faces missing, but this only made those who had assembled for a brief sojourn together more keenly alive to the joy of reunion.
“This is the first Thanksgiving since my senior year in high school that I’ve been given the chance to sit between Father and Mother and count my blessings,” Grace continued, looking fondly from one to the other of her parents. She was occupying a low stool between them, her favorite seat at home when the day was done, and the devoted little family gathered in the living room to talk over its events.
“We are counting our blessings, too,” smiled Mr. Harlowe. “One of them is very lively, and runs away almost as soon as it arrives.” He pinched Grace’s soft cheek.
“But it always runs back again,” reminded Grace, “and it’s always yours for the asking. I’d leave my work, everything, and come home on wings if you needed me.”
“I used to hate Thanksgiving when I was a youngster,” broke in J. Elfreda. “We always had a lot of company and I always behaved like a savage and spent Thanksgiving evening in solitary confinement. I’d wail like a disappointed coyote and make night generally hideous for the company. I’ve improved a lot since those days,” she grinned boyishly at her friends. “I can see now that it was a pretty good thing the Pilgrim Fathers set aside a day for counting their blessings. If they thought they were lucky, I wonder what we are.”
Elfreda had unconsciously gone from the comic to the serious.