.

The day before Thanksgiving Day everything was in readiness for the
guests.

Mr. Maynard had come home early, and the whole family were in the
drawing-room to await the arrival.

This, in itself, was depressing, for to be dressed up and sitting in
state at four o'clock in the afternoon is unusual, and, therefore,
uncomfortable.

Marjorie had a new frock, of the material that Kitty called "Alberta
Ross." It was very pretty, being white, trimmed here and there with
knots of scarlet velvet, and Midget was greatly pleased with it, though
she looked longingly out of the window, and thought of her red cloth
play-dress and her shining skates.

However, she had promised to be good, and she looked as demure as St.
Cecilia, as she sat quietly on the sofa with an eye on the behavior of
her younger sisters.

Kitty and Rosy Posy, both in freshly-laundered, white muslin frocks,
also sat demurely, with folded hands, while King, rather restlessly,
moved about the room, now and then looking from the window.

"You children get on my nerves!" said Mr. Maynard, at last. "I begin to
think you're not my own brood at all. Is it necessary, Mother, to have
this solemn stillness, just because we expect some friends to see us?"

Mrs. Maynard smiled.

"These children," she said, "have no idea of moderation. It _isn't_
necessary for them to sit like wax-works, but if they didn't they'd be
turning somersaults, or upsetting tables,--though, of course, they
wouldn't mean to."

"I daresay you're right," said Mr. Maynard, with a sigh, "and I do want
them to behave like civilized beings, when our friends come."

"There they are, now!" cried King, as the doorbell was heard. "But I
don't see any carriage," he added, looking from the window. In a moment
Sarah appeared with a telegram for Mrs. Maynard.

"They are delayed," said that lady, prophetically, "and won't arrive
till the next train." But this she said while she was opening the
envelope. As she read the message, her face fell, and she exclaimed,
"Oh, they're not coming at all."

"Not coming?" said Mr. Maynard, taking the yellow paper.

"No; Mrs. Crawford's sister is ill, and she can't leave her. Oh, I'm so
disappointed!"

"It is too bad, my dear; I'm very sorry for you. I wish they could have
let you know sooner."

"Yes, I wish so, too. Then we could have gone out to Grandma Sherwood's
for the day."

"Is it too late for that?" asked Marjorie, eagerly. "Can't we get ready,
a