“So we could, sonny, so we could. It takes you to think of things,” and Mrs. Moxon affectionately patted the little brown hand on her knee. “It never would ’a’ come to me that we might have turkey stuffing even if we didn’t have any turkey.”
Ben beamed with delight at this praise. “And was there anything else besides the turkey and the stuffing, Gran’ma?”
“Land, yes, child. There was turnips, and mashed potatoes and mince pie, and your pa got two pounds of grapes, though grapes was expensive at that time o’ year. Yes, nobody could ask for a better dinner than that was.”
“We could have one just like it, all but the turkey and the mince pie and the grapes,” said Ben hopefully.
“So we can, and will, too, child,” answered the old woman. “Trust you for making the best of things,” and the two smiled at each other happily.
Next morning Ben watched his grandmother add an egg, some sage and chopped onion to a bowlful of dry bread, pour boiling water over it, and put the mixture in the oven.
“Your father said I made the best turkey stuffing he ever ate,” she said with satisfaction. “We’ll see how it comes out, Benny.”
“I can’t hardly wait till dinner-time,” Ben said, with an excited skip. “I b’lieve I’ll go down to the beach, and pick up driftwood for a while. You call me when the things are most cooked, Gran’ma.”
The storm of the day before had left many a bit of board or end of a log on the beach that would be just the thing for Mrs. Moxon’s stove. Ben worked so hard that he did not notice a big barge that was coming slowly down the river, towing two other boats behind it, until he heard a voice ask:
“Hullo, kid! What makes you work so hard on Thanksgiving day?”