CHAPTER LXXXVIII
THE HICKORY LOG
"SAY, this feels good!" said Bob, as he warmed his hands by the cheerful blaze.
"Doesn't it!" said Bettina, enthusiastically. "And see, I've set the dinner table here by the fireplace. It's such fun when just the two of us are here. Isn't the log burning well?"
"I wondered if we could use one of our new logs tonight—thought about it all the way home. And here you had already tried it! November has turned so much colder that I believe winter is coming."
"So do I, but I don't mind, I don't want a warm Thanksgiving."
"Dinner ready? M—m, what's that? Lamb chops? Escalloped potatoes? Smells good!"
"Come on, dear! After dinner, we'll try those nuts we left so long out at Uncle John's. Do you think they're dry enough by this time? Charlotte phoned me that they had tried theirs, and found them fine. By the way, she and Frank may come over this evening."
"Hope they do. Listen—I hear a car outside now."