“I think we’re all thankful for the Harleys,” said Mother Blossom, “and I’m thankful for my whole Blossom family this morning!”
Thanksgiving dinner was to be at one o’clock and little Miss Florence, the dressmaker, was coming, and Mrs. Jordan and her lame son Paul, for whom the four little Blossoms had once given a fair.
“If we can’t have Aunt Polly, or any of the dear farm folk, at least we can make a happy day for someone else,” Mother Blossom had said, when she sent Bobby to invite Miss Florence and Mrs. Jordan.
“And after dinner, I’ll take everyone for a ride,” promised Father Blossom, “that is, if it doesn’t snow.”
So the four children spent their morning between the kitchen, where Norah and Mother Blossom were cooking the most delicious smelling things to eat, and the garage, where Father Blossom and Sam were going over the car to make sure that it would be in good order for the drive that afternoon.
“It’s my turn to sit up with you, isn’t it, Sam?” asked Dot eagerly. “You always take Meg, but it is my turn, really it is.”
“Your father is going to drive,” replied Sam to this. “I’m going to lend Norah a hand with all the dinner dishes. You can argue with him about riding on the front seat, Dot.”
Though Father Blossom had bought the car the spring before, the four little Blossoms still argued about whose turn it was to ride with the driver nearly every time they went for a ride. They had a system of “taking turns,” but this did not always prevent friction because sometimes the twins both squeezed into the front seat and then neither one was willing to admit that “counted.” As a rule, though, they settled the dispute amiably and without any suggestion from Sam or Father Blossom.
“Mother says we must come in and put on our best dresses, Dot,” said Meg, coming back to the garage from a trip to the kitchen. “The table is all set and it’s most time for the company to come.”
“All right, I’m coming,” Dot answered, brushing past Father Blossom who was washing his hands at the lavatory in one corner of the garage.