d apple pies, and doughnuts and fruit cake and
cranberry sauce and brown bread, and ever so many other things to fill
up the chinks. The night before Thanksgiving everything was ready, and
I was so tired I could hardly talk to Jimmy Nelson when he dropped in.

Jimmy had something on his mind, I saw that. So I said, "'Fess up,
Jimmy, and then you'll be able to enjoy your call."

"I want to ask a favour of you, Aunt Patty," said Jimmy.

I knew I should have to grant it; nobody could refuse Jimmy anything,
he looked so much like a nice, clean, pink-and-white little schoolboy
whose mother had just scrubbed his face and told him to be good. At
the same time he was one of the wildest young scamps in Carleton, or
had been until a year ago. I'd got him well set on the road to
reformation, and I felt worse about leaving him than any of the rest
of them. I knew he was just at the critical point. With somebody to
tide him over the next half year he'd probably go straight for the
rest of his life, but if he were left to himself he'd likely just slip
back to his old set and ways.

"I want you to let me bring my Uncle Joe to dinner tomorrow," said
Jimmy. "The poor old fellow is stranded here for Thanksgiving, and he
hates hotels. May I?"

"Of course," I said heartily, wondering why Jimmy seemed to think I
mightn't want his Uncle Joe. "Bring him right along."

"Thanks," said Jimmy. "He'll be more than pleased. Your sublime
cookery will delight him. He adores the west, but he can't endure its
cooking. He's always harping on his mother's pantry and the good old
down-east dinners. He's dyspeptic and pessimistic most of the time,
and he's got half a dozen cronies just like himself. All they think of
is railroads and bills of fare."

"Railroads!" I cried. And then an awful thought assailed me. "Jimmy
Nelson, your uncle isn't--isn't--he can't be Joseph P. Nelson, the
_rich_ Joseph P. Nelson!"

"Oh, he's rich enough," said Jimmy; getting up and reaching for his
hat. "In dollars, that is. Some ways he's poor enough. Well, I must be
going. Thanks ever so much for letting me bring Uncle Joe."

And that rascal was gone, leaving me crushed. Joseph Nelson was coming
to my house to dinner--Joseph P. Nelson, the millionaire railroad
king, who kept his own chef and was accustomed to dining with the
great ones of the earth!

I was afraid I should never be able to forgive Jimmy. I couldn't sleep
a wink that night, and I cooked that dinner n