File:St. Nicholas (1873) (14593820420).jpg

Identifier: stnicholasv9part1dodgrich (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: New York : Scribner
Contributing Library: Prelinger Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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t as sih.m.i,I clap my bread into the oven, called Mrs. Il.i ^iipresently, as she rounded off the last loaf of bruunbread which was to feed the hungry mouths thatseldom tasted any other. Heres a man comin up the hill lively ! Guess its Gad Hopkins. Pa told him to bring adezzen oranges, if they war nt too high ! shoutedSol and Seth, running to the door, while the girlssmacked their lips at the thought of this rare treat,and Baby threw his apple overboard, as if gettingready for a new cargo. But all were doomed to disappointment, for it was not Gad, with the much-desired fruit. It was astranger, who threw himself off his horse and hur-ried up to Mr. Bassett in the yard, with some briefmessage that made the farmer drop his ax and lookso sober that his wife guessed at once some badnews had come; and crying, Mother s wuss ! 1know she is ! out ran the good woman, forgetfulof the flour on her arms and the oven waiting forits most important batch. The man said old Mr. Irulwirk, down to Keene,
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PUSSV SAT BUNKING HER EVES IN THE CHEERFUL GLOW. stopped him as he passed, and told him to tell Mrs.Bassett her mother was failin fast, and she d bet-ter come to-day. He knew no more, and havingdelivered his errand he rode away, saying it lookedlike snow and he must be jogging, or he would ntget home till night. We must go right off, Eldad. Hitch up, and lO AN OLD-FASHIONED THANKSGIVING. (November, I 11 be ready in less n no time, said Mrs. Bassett,wasting not a minute in tears and lamentations,but pulling off her apron as she went in, with herhead in a sad jumble of bread, anxiety, turkey,sorrow, haste, and cider apple-sauce. A few words told the story, and the children lefttheir work to help her get ready, mingling theirgrief for Granma with regrets for the lostdinner. I m dreadful sorrj, dears, but it cant be helped.I could nt cook nor eat no way now, and if thatblessed woman gets better sudden, as she has be-fore, we 11 have cause for thanksgivin, and I 11give you a dinner you won

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