And that wasn’t all, for the turkey, when Mrs. Baxter came to prepare it, was stuffed with silver dollars.
Then Mrs. Baxter cried; and Paul and Kate were puzzled by that. But she was thankful, for she told them so.
When the great bird was properly browned and smoking, Paul took his place ready to carve. He had just raised the knife and fork when the door opened and a big, hearty sailor came in, saying:
“Here, here, young man, this won’t do! That is my place!”
And, of course, it was John Baxter; and the turkey was not nearly so hot by the time he had been hugged and kissed (meaning John Baxter, of course), and had told how his boat had been sunk, but he and his mates picked up by a steamer.
That was a Thanksgiving dinner.
Next day John Baxter took his boy and girl down to the market, and they made another giving of thanks to the marketmen, and that is a good ending to the story, isn’t it?
There is one more thing. The marketmen would not take back their silver, and so it went into the bank—a real bank this time—for Paul and Kate.