“Yes; but, first of all, I must love to make papa happy, must I not? You know he never wants any company on Thanksgiving but grandpa and grandma and Uncle John. I’m sure you would not like to spoil papa’s old-fashioned Thanksgiving Day.”
Kitty’s countenance fell. She saw the justice of her mother’s remark, and there was no more to be said. She sat thinking over her disappointment in a silence which her mother was the one to break.
“But I’ve thought of a better thing, Puss,” said this wise mamma, who was herself every bit as tender of heart as Kitty, and cared just as much about making people happy. “No doubt Mrs. Graham and Tom would just as much prefer being alone together as papa prefers to be alone with his family; and how will it suit you if I have a nice dinner prepared for them, and let you go and take it to them in the coupé? Mrs. Graham is hardly the woman one could take such a liberty with; but I’ll beg her to let you have the pleasure of sending dinner to Tom.”
“Oh, you darling!” and Mrs. Greenough’s neck-ruffle suffered, and her hair was in danger, as was apt to be the case when Kitty was overcome with emotion, which could only find vent in a rapturous squeeze.
Before bed-time Kitty had it all planned out. She was to go in the coupé and take Bridget and the basket. Bridget was to mount guard by the horse’s head while Luke went upstairs with Kitty and brought down Tom for a drive; and while they were gone Bridget would take the basket in, and see that every thing was right, and then go home.
Mrs. Greenough consented to it all. I think she enjoyed the prospect of Tom’s ride, herself, just as much as Kitty did. While Mrs. Graham was sewing there she made the arrangement with her, approaching the subject so delicately that the most sensitive of women could not be hurt, and putting the acceptance of both drive and dinner in the light of a personal favor to Kitty, who had taken such a fancy to Tom.
The last afternoon of Mrs. Graham’s stay Kitty called her mother into her room. Mrs. Greenough saw spread out upon the bed a thick, warm, soft jacket, a woollen dress, a last year’s hat.
“You know them by sight, don’t you, mother mine? They are the last winter’s clothes that I grew away from, and have taken leave of. May Tom have them?”
“Yes, indeed, if you’ll undertake to give them to Tom’s mother.”
Kitty had seldom undertaken a more embarrassing task. She stole into the sewing-room with the things in her arms.