ard so they could make a snow house.

"We'll make the biggest one ever!" declared Ted. "And maybe we'll turn
it into a fort and have an Indian fight!"

"I don't like Indian fights," said Janet.

"They'll only be make-believe," Ted went on. "Me an' Tom Taylor an' some
of the fellows'll be the Indians."

But the big snow held off, though each morning, as soon as they arose
from their beds, Jan and Ted would run to the window to look out to see
if it had come in the night. There was just a little covering of white
on the ground, and in some places, along the streets and the sidewalks,
it had been shoveled away.

"Do you think it will snow for Thanksgiving?" asked the Curlytops again
and again.

"Yes, I think so," their mother would answer.

Such busy times as there were at the Martin house! Mrs. Martin and Nora
were in the kitchen most of each day, baking, boiling, frying, stewing
and cooking in other ways. There was to be a pumpkin pie, of course--in
fact two or three of them, as well as pies of mincemeat and of apple.

"There must be a lot of company coming," said Ted to Janet; "'cause
they're bakin' an awful lot."

"Well, everybody eats a lot at Thanksgiving," said the little girl.
"Only I hope we have snow and lots of company."

"Did you hear anything more about the lame boy and the missing
pocketbook and money?" asked Mrs. Martin of her husband two or three
days before Thanksgiving.

"No, not a thing," he answered. "He did not come back to the store, and
we haven't found the lost money. I am hoping we shall, though, for,
though I can't guess who the lame boy was, if he wasn't Hal, I wouldn't
want to think any little chap would take what did not belong to him."

"Nor would I," said the Curlytops' mother.

The next afternoon something queer happened. Teddy and Janet had not yet
come home from school, and Mrs. Martin and Nora were in the kitchen
baking the last of the things for Thanksgiving and getting things ready
to roast the big turkey which would come the next day.

The front doorbell rang and Mrs. Martin said:

"You'd better answer, Nora. My hands are covered with flour."

"And so is my nose," answered the maid with a laugh. "You look better to
go to the front door than I do."

"Well, I guess I do," agreed Mrs. Martin with a smile. She paused to
wipe her hands on a towel and then went through the hall. But when she
opened the door no one was on the steps.

"That's queer," she said to herself,