had
faith in the absent one. "A blessing!" such was her humble wish as she
returned to her chamber and laid her fair head on the pillow, "a
blessing on such as believe in us when we are in trouble and poverty,
out of favor with the world, when our good name is doubted, and when the
current running sharply against, might overwhelm us, were not one or two
kind hands put forth to save us from utter ruin and abandonment!"

CHAPTER SIXTH.

THE FASHIONABLE LADY AND HER SON.

All the next day, being the Wednesday before thanksgiving, was alive and
busy with the various preparations for the great festival, now held to
be a sacred holiday throughout this wide-spread union. The lark had no
sooner called morning in the meadow than Mopsey, who seemed to regard
herself as having the entire weight of the occasion on her single
shoulders, slipped from bed, hurried to the garden, and taking a last
look at the great pumpkin as it lay in all its golden glory, severed the
vine at a stroke and trundled it with her own arms, (she saw with a
smile of pity the poor brown mouse skulking off, like a little pirate as
he was, disappointed of his prize,) in at the back-door. The Peabodys
were gathering for breakfast, and coming forward, stood at either side
of the entrance regarding the pumpkin with profound interest. It fairly
shook the house as it rolled in upon the kitchen floor.

When little Sam, who had lingered in bed beyond the others, with
pleasant dreams, came down stairs, he was met by young William Peabody.

"What do you think, Sam?" said Peabody Junior, smiling.

"I suppose Aunt Carrack has come," Sam answered. "It's nothing to me if
she has."

"No, that isn't it.--Turkey's dead!"

Little Sam dropped a tear, and went away by himself to walk in the
garden. Little Sam took no breakfast that morning.

Every window in the house was thrown wide open to begin with; every
chair walked out of its place; the new broom which Miriam had gathered
with a song, was used for the first time freely on every floor, in every
nook and corner; then the new broom was carried away, and locked in a
closet like a conjuror who had wrought his spell and need not appear
again till some other magic was to be performed. All the chairs were set
soberly and steadily against the wall, the windows were closed, and a
sacred shade thrown over the house against the approaching festival. The
key was turned in the lock of the old parlor, which was to have