ne out of the pantry.

"We've--got--to have--them," was all she said.

I've always said that Laura and Magsie would rise to any occasion.
They saw us carry their Thanksgiving dinner off under their very eyes
and they never interfered by word or motion. They didn't even worry us
with questions. They realized that something desperate had happened
and that the emergency called for deed not words.

"Aggie," gasped Kate behind me as we tore through the birch wood, "the
border--of these pies--is crimped--differently--from Aunt Susanna's."

"She--won't know--the difference," I panted. "Miranda--Mary--crimps
them."

We got back to the Pinery just as the train whistle blew. We had ten
minutes to transfer turkey and turnips to Aunt Susanna's dishes, hide
our own, air the kitchen, and get back our breath. We accomplished it.
When Aunt Susanna and her guests came we were prepared for them: we
were calm--outwardly--and the second mince pie was getting hot in the
oven. It was ready by the time it was needed. Fortunately our turkey
was the same size as Aunt Susanna's, and Laura had cooked a double
supply of turnips, intending to warm them up the next day. Still, all
things considered, Kate and I didn't enjoy that dinner much. We kept
thinking of poor Laura and Magsie at home, dining off potatoes on
Thanksgiving!

But at least Aunt Susanna was satisfied. When Kate and I were washing
the dishes she came out quite beamingly.

"Well, my dears, I must admit that you made a very good job of the
dinner, indeed. The turkey was done to perfection. As for the mince
pies--well, of course Miranda Mary made them, but she must have had
extra good luck with them, for they were excellent and heated to just
the right degree. You didn't give anything to the McGinnis dog, I
hope?"

"No, we didn't give him anything," said Kate.

Aunt Susanna did not notice the emphasis.

When we had finished the dishes we smuggled our platter and tureen out
of the house and went home. Laura and Margaret were busy painting and
studying and were just as sweet-tempered as if we hadn't robbed them
of their dinner. But we had to tell them the whole story before we
even took off our hats.

"There is a special Providence for children and idiots," said Laura
gently. We didn't ask her whether she meant us or Tony McGinnis or
both. There are some things better left in obscurity. I'd have
probably said something much sharper than that if anybody had made off
with my