dollars on way.

FRIENDS OF THE CAUSE.

For minutes the ticking of the clock sounded like the dropping of
pebbles in a still pool. I could not speak, for the wonder of a miracle
was upon me. By faith the impossible had come to pass. Finally Jane
looked up and asked wistfully, "Oh! Zury, aren't you glad for me?"

"Glad!" echoed the girl, leaning over and caressing the faded cheek.
"I'm as happy as if I were pinning on my own orange blossoms this
minute. Dear, dear little Jinny with her beautiful dream coming true!"

I had never thought Zura beautiful. Now, as she bent over Jane, flushed
with excitement, her eyes deep glowing, her shining hair flashing back
the red of the firelight, she was as brilliant as a golden pheasant
hovering above a little gray sparrow.

With some sudden memory the girl stood erect and reached for a calendar.
"Hurrah!" she cried, "It's true! To-morrow is Thanksgiving at home. We
are going to celebrate too, if I have to sell my shoes."

Seeing Jane still shaken with emotion and the glad tears so close to
hand, Zura jumped up on a chair and began to read from the calendar as
if it were a proclamation:

"Know all ye! Wherever you be up above or down below, far or near on the
to-morrow, by my command, every citizen of these United States is to
assemble all by himself, or with his best girl and give thanks. Thanks
for living and for giving. Thanks for hospitals and people to build
them. Sermons to preach and sinners to hear. Then give thanks and still
more thanks, that to you and to me, the beautifulest land the good God
ever made spells home, and friends, and America! Amen."

XIII

A THANKSGIVING DINNER

More and more Zura had assumed the duties of our housekeeping. The
generous sum Kishimoto San promptly forwarded each month for her
maintenance so relieved the financial pressure that I was able to relax
somewhat my vigilance over the treasury. So I stepped aside that her
ambition and energy might have full expression. I knew that absorbing
work erases restlessness in mind and heart as effectively as a hot iron
smooths out a rough-dried cloth. I urged her to further experiments and
made a joke of her many mistakes, ofttimes when it was sheer waste of
material. But what mattered that? Better to die softheaded, than
hardhearted. I wanted the girl to be happy. Rather than be separated, I
would let her make a bonfire of every bean, potato and barrel