| [9] | By W. J. McClintoch. |
VII.
JOHNNY BEEDLE’S THANKSGIVING.[[10]]
“I says,” says I, “Hannah, sposin we keep thanksgivin’ to home this year,” says I, “and invite all our hull grist o’ cousins, and aunts and things—go the hull figure, and do the thing genteel.”
“Well, agreed,” says she, “it’s just what I was a thinkin’, only I consate we’d better not cackliate too fur ahead, for I didn’t never no it to miss somethin’ happenin’ so sure as I laid out for the leastest thing. Though it’s as good a time now, far’s I know, as any—for I’ve just weanen Moses, and tend to take comfort a spell, ’cause a troublesomer cryiner critter niver come into life.”
“Exactly so,” says I, “and if I’d a known everything afore I was married that I do now,” says I—
“Hold your tongue for a goney, Johnny Beedle,” says she, “and mind your thanksgivin’.”
“Poh!” says I, “Hannah, don’t be miffy; I was only jeestin’—and you jist go and put on a kittle of water, and I’ll go out and stick a pig for you; two if you like.” So away I went and murdered the pigs out o’ love and good-will to Hannah. I rather guess the critters wished I warn’t so good-natured.
Well, things went on swimmingly, and what was best of all, we had the luck to invite the minister and deacon afore anybody got a chance; for the very moment the proklimation was read, I watched for em comin’ out of meeting, and nailed ’em both. But as I was a tellin’, Hannah, she went at it—she got some of her galls to help her, and they made all smoke. In the first place she went to work reg’lar, and turned the house inside out, and then t’other side in again, all the same as darnin’ a stocking. Hannah is a smart willin’ gall, and a rael worker, and a prime cook into the bargain; let her alone in the doughnut line, and for pumpkin pies—lick! So the day afore the thanksgivin’ she called me into the t’other room, that Marm Peabody christened the parlour, to see what a lot o’ pies and cakes, and sausage-meat and doughnuts she’d got made up, and charged me not to lay the weight of my finger upon one on ’em. I telled her I guessed she cackelated to call in the whole parish, paupers and all, to eat up sich a sight of vittles; so I grabbed a handful of doughnuts, and went out to feed the hogs, and to see to things in the field. I was gone all the fore part o’ the day, and when I went home I found Hannah all hoity toity, in a livin’ pucker cryin’, and taken on to kill, and poor little Moses tottling arter her and cryin’ too. I declare if I didn’t feel streaked.
“What in the name o’ natur,” says I, “is the matter? who’s dead, and what’s to pay now?”