s, "In my Father's house are many mansions," explaining his
understanding of the passage so clearly, so comfortingly that finally
the tears were dried and the aching hearts soothed.

At length the grief-stricken company repaired to the house for their
belated breakfast, while the tramp, touched to the quick by the pathos
of the scene he had just witnessed, made his way across the fields and
through the woods, leaving only a crumpled ten-dollar bill among the
grain sacks to tell of his visit.

CHAPTER VI

THANKSGIVING DAY AT THE BROWN HOUSE

"Gail!"

"Yes, dear."

Peace stood at the kitchen window looking out into the winter twilight,
heavy with falling snow, but as she spoke, she turned her back on the
scene without, and walked over to the table where the oldest sister was
busy kneading bread. "Are we going to have turkey for tomorrow? It's
Thanksgiving Day, you know."

"We can't afford turkey, Peace."

"Chicken, then?"

"No."

"But we keep chickens ourselves, Gail! I'll kill one for you if it's
just 'cause you can't chop its head off."

A smile flashed across Gail's sweet, care-worn face. "It isn't that,
dear. We can't spare any. All our extra roosters we used for broth
when--"

"Yes, I know," interrupted the smaller sister hastily. "But haven't we
got a tough old hen that isn't good for anything else?"

Again Gail smiled, but answered patiently, "I am afraid not, Peace. All
our hens are laying now, and eggs mean money. We can't afford to kill
them."

"Can't we buy one?"

"There is no money."

"Have you used up all we made selling flowers?"

"That went long ago."

"And the bill we found in the barn?"

"No, dear. We don't know whose that is, or where it came from. Someone
may come along and claim it one of these days."

"I don't see how anyone could have _lost_ that money in the barn, Gail.
It was _pinned_ down to the grain sacks with a real pin. Folks don't
carry bills around in their pockets with pins in them; and s'posing they
did, if the bills dropped out of their pockets, they wouldn't up and pin
_themselves_ onto gateposts and grain sacks. Someone must have left them
for us to use. First I thought it was my tramp, and that maybe he was a
prince in disgust"--she meant disguise--"but now I think it was Mr.
Strong, even if he did say he had nothing to do with it."

"Peace! Did you ask him again, after I told you not to mention it?"

"N-o, not ezackly. I just wrote it on a piece