ext day in a terrible
state of mind. Every ring that came at the door made my heart
jump,--but in the end Jimmy didn't ring at all, but just walked in
with his uncle in tow. The minute I saw Joseph P. I knew I needn't be
scared of _him_; he just looked real common. He was little and thin
and kind of bored-looking, with grey hair and whiskers, and his
clothes were next door to downright shabbiness. If it hadn't been for
the thought of that chef, I wouldn't have felt a bit ashamed of my
old-fashioned Thanksgiving spread.

When Joseph P. sat down to that table he stopped looking bored. All
the time the minister was saying grace that man simply stared at a big
plate of doughnuts near my end of the table, as if he'd never seen
anything like them before.

All the boys talked and laughed while they were eating, but Joseph P.
just _ate_, tucking away turkey and vegetables and keeping an anxious
eye on those doughnuts, as if he was afraid somebody else would get
hold of them before his turn came. I wished I was sure it was
etiquette to tell him not to worry because there were plenty more in
the pantry. By the time he'd been helped three times to mince pie I
gave up feeling bad about the chef. He finished off with the
doughnuts, and I shan't tell how many of them he devoured, because I
would not be believed.

Most of the boys had to go away soon after dinner. Joseph P. shook
hands with me absently and merely said, "Good afternoon, Miss
Porter." I didn't think he seemed at all grateful for his dinner, but
that didn't worry me because it was for my boys I'd got it up, and not
for dyspeptic millionaires whose digestion had been spoiled by private
chefs. And my boys had appreciated it, there wasn't any doubt about
that. Peter Crockett and Tommy Gray stayed to help me wash the dishes,
and we had the jolliest time ever. Afterward we picked the turkey
bones.

But that night I realized that I was once more a useless, lonely old
woman. I cried myself to sleep, and next morning I hadn't spunk enough
to cook myself a dinner. I dined off some crackers and the remnants of
the apple pies, and I was sitting staring at the crumbs when the bell
rang. I wiped away my tears and went to the door. Joseph P. Nelson was
standing there, and he said, without wasting any words--it was easy to
see how that man managed to get railroads built where nobody else
could manage it--that he had called to see me on a little matter of
business.

He took just