e.

"And how about cranberry jelly?"

"Mother will give us apples from her barrel."

"And celery, and sweet-potatoes, and all the other goodies?"

"We must make it all do. I will go to Mr. Scott, the grocer, and tell
him we want everything at the very lowest price."

"Well, I leave it all to you," said Charlie, with masculine disdain of
details, and scorn for so small a sum.

"That is right. You'll see how I will manage," said Sue, confidently.

And manage she did.

Thanksgiving was a cold, bleak day, and old black Betsey had no idea of
leaving her fireside for church.

"I can give my tanks jist as well one place as anodder," said she, in
reply to a sweet coaxing voice which was urging her to go out.

"Now please just go to oblige me, Aunt Betsey," said Sue; "Charlie and I
want you and Uncle Jake to go to church for a very particular reason.
You can not refuse me, I am sure."

The old woman grumbled and scolded and shuffled about in a discontented
way, but the pleading little Sue stood firm, and gave an exulting shout
as she finally closed the door upon both of them.

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Charlie, and then they both went to work.

The poor little cabin had to be swept and dusted, and all the cracked
crockery well wiped, but Sue had tied on a great big apron, and Charlie
pinned on a huge towel, and declared himself head waiter. Then the
market-basket, carefully concealed in the wood-shed, had to be unpacked,
and Sue's mother had given a bright red table-cover, and all sorts of
nice little things to fill up corners; and when at last everything was
set out, and green boughs hung over the doors, and the ready-cooked
turkey was fizzing over again in the oven, and the dinner was ready, Sue
and Charlie hid themselves behind a door and waited for Aunt Betsey and
Uncle Jake. Slowly the old people came grumbling home as they had
grumbled out. They were old and stiff and poor, and what was there to be
thankful for? For the rheumatism? Yes, if God willed it, said Aunt
Betsey, who, however, was far from cheerful.

They pushed open the door, and the savory smell of cooking saluted them.

"Hi, Uncle Jake, what you tink o' dis? what's de meanin' of all dis
yer?" said Aunt Betsey.

Uncle Jake's mouth opened wide, as if the better to inhale the rich
odors.

[Illustration: "WHAT DOSE CHILLEN BIN ABOUT?"]

"Who's bin hiyar? What dose chillen bin about? Good gracious me! if dis
ain't a dinner fit fur a king."

Uncle J