irs
any scraps either. That is Miranda Mary's one fault. She will feed
that dog in spite of all I can do and I can't walk out of my own back
door without falling over him."

We promise to eschew the McGinnises and all their works, including
the dog, and when Aunt Susanna had gone we looked at each other with
mingled hope and fear.

"Girls, this is the chance of your lives," said Laura. "If you can
only please Aunt Susanna with this dinner it will convince her that
you are good cooks in spite of your nefarious bent for music and
literature. I consider the illness of Miranda Mary's mother a
Providential interposition--that is, if she isn't too sick."

"It's all very well for you to be pleased, Lolla," I said dolefully.
"But I don't feel jubilant over the prospect at all. Something will
probably go wrong. And then there's our own nice little Thanksgiving
celebration we've planned, and pinched and economized for weeks to
provide. That is half spoiled now."

"Oh, what is that compared to Margaret's chance of going to college?"
exclaimed Kate. "Cheer up, Aggie. You know we can cook. I feel that it
is now or never with Aunt Susanna."

I cheered up accordingly. We are not given to pessimism which is
fortunate. Ever since father died four years ago we have struggled on
here, content to give up a good deal just to keep our home and be
together. This little gray house--oh, how we do love it and its apple
trees--is ours and we have, as aforesaid, a tiny income and our
ambitions; not very big ambitions but big enough to give zest to our
lives and hope to the future. We've been very happy as a rule. Aunt
Susanna has a big house and lots of money but she isn't as happy as
we are. She nags us a good deal--just as she used to nag father--but
we don't mind it very much after all. Indeed, I sometimes suspect that
we really like Aunt Susanna tremendously if she'd only leave us alone
long enough to find it out.

Thursday morning was an ideal Thanksgiving morning--bright, crisp and
sparkling. There had been a white frost in the night, and the orchard
and the white birch wood behind it looked like fairyland. We were all
up early. None of us had slept well, and both Kate and I had had the
most fearful dreams of spoiling Aunt Susanna's Thanksgiving dinner.

"Never mind, dreams always go by contraries, you know," said Laura
cheerfully. "You'd better go up to the Pinery early and get the fires
on, for the house will be cold. Remember the