"Thee has indeed, and thee deserves it sure enough."

I looked around at her, but could not catch her eyes. My efforts to emulate Mr. Yocomb's spirit were superhuman, but my success was indifferent. I was too anxious, too doubtful concerning the girl who was so gentle and yet so strong. She had far more quietude and self-mastery than I, and with good reason, for she was mistress of the situation. Still, I gathered hope every hour, for I felt that her face would not be so happy, so full of brightness, if she proposed to send me away disappointed, or even put me off on further probation.

Nevertheless, my Thanksgiving Day would not truly begin until my hope was confirmed.

Dinner was smoking on the table when we returned, and it was so exceedingly tempting that I enjoyed its aroma with much of Mr. Yocomb's satisfaction, and I sat down at his right, feeling that if one question were settled I would be the most thankful man in the land.

We bowed our heads in grace; but after a moment Mr. Yocomb arose, and with uplifted face repeated words that might have been written for the occasion, so wonderfully adapted to human life is the Book of G.o.d.

"'Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless His holy name.

"'Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits: "'Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases;

"'Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with loving kindness and tender mercies.

"'Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.'"

Never was there a grace so full of grace before. If a kind earthly father looks with joy on his happy children, so surely the divine Father must have smiled upon us. In the depths of my heart I respected a faith that was so simple, genuine, and full of sunshine. Truly, it had come from heaven, and not from the dyspeptic creeds of cloistered theologians.

"Father," cried Zillah, "thee looked like my picture of King David."

"Well, I'm in a royal mood," replied her father, "and I don't believe King David ever had half so good a dinner as mother has provided. Such a dinner, Richard, is the result of genius. All the cookbooks in the world couldn't account for it, and I don't believe mother has read one of them."

"Thee must give Cynthia part of the credit," protested his wife.

"She's the woman who says 'Lord a ma.s.sy,' and insists that I was struck with lightning, isn't she?" and I glanced toward Miss Warren, but she wouldn't meet my eye. Her deepening color told of a busy memory, however. Mr. Yocomb began to laugh so heartily that he dropped his knife and fork on the table and leaned back in his chair quite overcome.

"Father, behave thyself," his wife remonstrated.

At last the old gentleman set to work in good earnest. "Emily," he said, "this is that innocent young gobbler that thee so commiserated.

Thee hasn't the heart to eat him, surely."

"I'll take a piece of the breast, if you please."

"Wouldn't thee like his heart?"

"No, I thank you."

"What part would thee like, Richard?"

"Anything but his wings and legs. They would remind me how soon I must go back to awful New York."

"Not before Second Day."

"Yes, sir, to-morrow morning. An editor's play-spells are few and far between."

"Well, Richard, thee thrives on work," said Mrs. Yocomb.

"Yes. I've found it good for me."

"And you have done good work, Mr. Morton," added Miss Warren. "I like your paper far better now."

"But you stopped it."

"Did you find that out?"

"Indeed I did, and very quickly."

"My cousin, Mrs. Vining, took the paper."

"Yes, I know that, too."

"Why, Mr. Morton! do you keep track of all your readers? The circulation of your paper cannot be large."

"I looked after Mrs. Vining carefully, but no further."

"I shall certainly tell her of your interest," she said, with her old mirthful gleam.

"Please do. The people at the office would be agape with wonder if they knew of the influence resulting from Mrs. Vining's name being on the subscription list."

"Not a disastrous influence, I trust?"

"It has occasioned us some hot work. My chief says that nearly all the dragons in the country are stirred up."

"And some of them have been sorely wounded-I've noted that too," said the girl, flushing with pleasure in spite of herself.

"Yes, please tell Mrs. Vining that also. Credit should be given where it's due."

Her laugh now rang out with its old-time genuineness. "Cousin Adelaide would be more agape than the people of your office. I think the dragons owe their tribulations to your disposition to fight them."

"If you could see some words in illuminated text over my desk you would know better."

"Mr. Yocomb, don't you think we are going to have an early winter?" she asked abruptly, with a fine color in her face.

"I don't think it's going to be cold--not very cold, Emily. There are prospects of a thaw to-day;" and the old gentleman leaned back in his chair and shook with suppressed merriment.

"Father, behave thyself. Was there ever such a man!" Mrs. Yocomb exclaimed reproachfully.

"I know you think there never was and never will be, Mrs. Yocomb," I cried, controlling myself with difficulty, for the old gentleman's manner was irresistibly droll and instead of the pallor that used to make my heart ache, Miss Warren's face was like a carnation rose. My hope grew apace, for her threatening looks at Mr. Yocomb contained no trace of pain or deep annoyance, while the embarra.s.sment she could not hide so enhanced her loveliness that it was a heavy cross to withhold my eager eyes. Reuben kindly came to our relief, for he said:

"I tell thee what it is, mother: I feel as if we ought to have Dapple in here with us."

"Emily, wouldn't thee rather have Old Plod?" Mr. Yocomb asked.

"No!" she replied brusquely; and this set her kind tormentor off once more.

But an earnest look soon came into his face, and he said, with eyes moist with feeling:

"Well, this is a time of thanksgiving, and never before in all my life has my heart seemed so full of gladness and grat.i.tude. Richard, I crept in this old home when I was a baby, and I whistled through the house just as Reuben does. In this very room my dear old father trimmed my jacket for me, G.o.d bless him! Oh, I deserved it richly; but mother's sorrowful looks cut deeper, I can tell thee. It was to this home I brought the prettiest la.s.s in the county--what am I saying?--the prettiest la.s.s in the world. No offence to thee, Emily; thee wasn't alive then. If every man had such a home as thee has made for me and the children, mother, the millennium would begin before next Thanksgiving. In this house my children were born, and here they have played. I've seen their happy faces in every nook and corner, and with everything I have a dear a.s.sociation. In this home we bade good-by to our dear little Ruth; she's ours still, mother, and she is at home, too, as we are; but everything in this house that our little angel child touched has become sacred to me. Ah, Richard, there are some things in life that thee hasn't learned yet, and all the books couldn't teach thee; but what I have said to thee reveals a little of my love for this old home. How I love those whom G.o.d has given me, only He knows. Well, He directed thy random steps to us one day last June, and we welcomed thee as a stranger. But thee has a different welcome to-day, Richard--a very different welcome. Thee doesn't like to hear about it; but we never forget."