XI

NOVEMBER

The next house stood just back from the street,
In a gray little narrow lane.
A table loaded with things to eat
They saw through the window-pane.
A cozy old lady came out to the door
And said, “There is turkey in here,
Potatoes and rice, and cake with spice,
And no one to dine, oh, dear!”

Amos and Ann looked at the Journeying Man. “It must be very hard on her, J. M.,” they said.

“What’s hard on her?” returned J. M. “Having turkey and potatoes and all that?”

Amos and Ann turned red. “Having no one to eat them,” they said in a low voice.

It had been some hours since they left the gypsy camp, and they were beginning to be very hungry indeed.

The little old lady stood at the door and waited.

“We might help her out if there’s time,” J. M. said suddenly.

“Oho!” cried Amos. “There’s plenty of that, you know, in Zodiac Town!”

Two minutes later they were seated round the table.

“It’s like Thanksgiving,” Ann said in delight.

“Just think—” J. M. replied—

“Just think, the little Pilgrim boys
That came ashore, you know,
From off the good Mayflower ship
That wild day long ago,

“They had no roasted turkey-breast
For dinner; not a scrap
Of gravy, stuffing, and the rest
Saw any hungry chap.

“No apple sauce, no pumpkin pies,
No nuts and raisins plump,
No oranges and gingersnaps,
No taffy in a lump.

“I’m glad that things are different now—
’T would give me quite a shock
To see our dinner-table look
As bare as Plymouth Rock.

“And yet, those little Mayflower lads
Were thankful to be living—
A splendid reason, after all,
For anyone’s thanksgiving!”

“I think I’m thankfulest of all,” Ann said—and a little clock tinkled and sent her into rhyming.

“I think I’m thankfulest of all
For that old house of ours;
The maple by the garden wall,
The borders full of flowers;

“The front doorsill that’s hollowed out
By many passing feet;
The different pictures hung about,
With faces kind and sweet.

“The firewood’s flame is red and gold
And makes a spicy smell;
There’s nothing half so clear and cold
As water from our well;

“And through the window, sleepy nights,
Just at the stairway’s head,
A white star like a candle lights
Me safely up to bed.

“So brightly all my blessings shine
That many thanks I give—
But mostly for that home of mine
Where I was put to live.”

The old lady was delighted with all this rhyming, and on the spur of the moment she made up a very good rhyme of her own. Amos and Ann thought it was the best of all that they had heard that day—and goodness knows they had heard a great many!

“Suppose you lived in a gingerbread house,
With a roof of jujube paste,
And sugar shutters, and peppermint pipes,
And doors that you could taste;
In a land where weather could do no harm,
Absurd as that may seem,
With chocolate ground and lemonade rain
And plenty of snow ice-cream?

“Plenty of snow ice-cream for you,
And a soda-water pump,
And a little garden where gumdrops grew,
And taffy all in a lump.
Taffy all in a lump, hurrah!
And tarts and cookies and all.
If ever you move to a house like that,
I’ll make an early call!”