It was just as much as I could do to get the basket into the kitchen, and then, oh! the good things that met my eyes. First of all, a turkey ready dressed, then a roll of golden butter, then several jars of sausage-meat and jelly, then a bunch of celery, and last a great iced cake. This completed the contents, but no; as I lifted out the lower cloth there lay a sealed envelope directed, as the basket had been, to father. This I laid aside till his return, but what to do about the other things was puzzling. They are clearly intended for father’s Thanksgiving dinner, I thought, but unless the turkey is put to roast right away it won’t be done in time. Shall I, or shall I not? I said to myself. Then I remembered how feeble dear mother looked when she set out; how she feared the services would be too much for her strength. Yes, I said decidedly, by way of answering my doubts, a warm nourishing dinner will be just what she needs, and so, without more ado, I set to work. The baby (bless his little heart!) was real good, and let me, get well “under way” before he waked up. There was no keeping the secret of the dinner, however, when the front door was once entered, for the savory odor of the roasting turkey told the tale at once, and the whole party hurried into the kitchen to find out what it meant.
“O, father!” I said, when the exclamations over the first part of my recital had sufficiently subsided to admit of my getting in a word, “there was a letter for you in the basket, too.”
“This will give us the name of the donor,” said he, as he opened it. But, no indeed, there was no name inside, only some notes neatly folded. “Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five dollars,” said father, counting them out on the table. “God be praised for all His mercies, and God bless the giver!” said he, fervently, while mother turned away to get Miss Judith’s dinner ready, and hide her tears, for poor mother was actually crying.
“Take this, too, Annie,” said father, putting another five on the one already lying on the waiter, when at last it was ready for me to take in. Of course I had to stop and tell Miss Judith the wonderful news about the basket, and when I got back again mother was putting the last dish on the table; then, going to our places, we stood with bowed heads while father said the grace I had always been accustomed to hear, but which seemed to have gained new meaning and beauty,—
“Supply the wants of others, O Lord, and give us grateful hearts, for Christ’s sake.”
We never knew the secret of that Thanksgiving basket, nor did we ever inquire into it, but we all had a notion that Dr. Armstrong could have thrown light upon the subject if he had chosen to.
G. S. W.
TRYING THEIR NEW KNIVES.