athers and wattles flaming,
came straight toward them, and Peace stopped with a jerk.

"Drop your bunny in my skirt, Allee, grab that broom and hit the gobbler
over the head. Mr. Hardman said to do that whenever he bothered us and
he would soon get tired of it." As she spoke she gathered her skirt up
apron-fashion, and thrust both rabbits within the folds, while Allee
snatched up the broom, according to instructions, and made ready for the
attack.

"Gobble, gobble, gobble!" The enemy advanced rapidly, but before he
could strike either child the blue-eyed baby let the hard-wood stick fly
with all her might over the fierce old head, and without another sound
the monstrous bird crumpled up in the snow.

"Mercy!" screamed Peace. "You've killed him! There, don't cry! Hold your
coat for the rabbits while I tote this thing up to Hardman's house. I
told you to hit him, but Mr. Hardman told us, too."

Laying down her own burdens, she seized the heavy turkey by the neck and
dragged it up the path to the door of the green house. "Here's your old
bird," she chattered, when Mr. Hartman answered her knock. "He'll never
gobble again! We hit him over the head, just as you told us to, and he
laid right down and died. But we never meant to kill him. If you chop
his head off right away, he will be good to eat yet, for we just now
finished him. 'F I had the money, I'd pay for him, just so's we could
have a Thanksgiving dinner over at our house, but I spent all I had for
oysters, and, besides, I s'pose likely you would charge more'n a quarter
for him. You told us to hit him, you know."

With never a word of reply, the dazed man dragged the carcass into the
house and shut the door, leaving Peace glaring indignantly after him.
"Well, that's manners," she finally sputtered, and stamped angrily away
to help Allee home with her load.

"Here are some oysters," she announced, depositing the paper bucket on
the kitchen table.

"We earned them shoveling Judge Abbott's porches off. And here are Bryan
Tenney's rabbits. He has given them to us for keeps."

"Well, you can march them straight back," declared Faith, with energy.
"Where do you expect to keep rabbits on this place?"

"In a box of hay in the barn. We may keep them, mayn't we, Gail?"

"They will die of cold," protested Faith.

"We won't let them. There are lots of gunny sacks we can cover over the
box until it gets warmer."

"They will dig the whole farm up and spoil the garden