was off in a twinkling, and
out came a sizable plate, enveloped in dainty, clean napkins, which,
being removed in layers, exhibited, in all its brown deliciousness, a
huge turkey, just done to a turn.

The party gathered around in pleased wonder, and as Molly threw the
napkins into the basket a card fell on the floor. She picked it up and,
astonished, read, "Emanuel Griffin."

"What!" said David, snatching it and reading it aloud to himself,
"Emanuel Griffin. So it is, and no mistake!" and then he burst out,
"Hurrah! hurrah for Griffin! I knew he couldn't forget us this year!"
His poor old face was almost young again, and his voice,--why, it could
actually be heard as he ran on: "Why, there never was such a year for
the china trade, Tripple, and how could he forget me? Jacob Tripple,
your hand! A kiss, Little Scout! Why, your old father's 'most young
again, and his good girls shall dine like other good girls, after all!
How very thoughtful of Griffin to send it in the nick of time, too.
Come, sit up again before it gets cold, and I wish we had something as
hot to drink Griffin's health in. Why, I believe I could sing a song
again if we had something hot. I do, indeed!"

So he ran on in his childish delight at the thought of being remembered,
and at the far more grateful thought that his beloved daughters were to
share the gift with him.

When he had ceased, all turned to Molly and asked in one breath who had
left it. When the clamor slackened, she replied, "Why, young Cuffy from
the baker's, and all he said was, 'David Dubbs,--to be sent--card
inside,' and then kissing his hand, and crying 'Love to her,' meaning I
don't know who," with a smirk at Polly, "he jumped aboard his wagon and
flew away down the court."

Never was a turkey enjoyed so much, and never had a turkey better
deserved it.

Mr. Tripple grew bland and talkative under its juicy influence. He even
winked at Polly occasionally, and one time actually chucked her under
the chin. She sat next to him, remarking that if he had his way she
should live forever on turkey and sugar-plums. David ventured to say
that that course of diet would be pretty indigestive, whereupon Mr.
Tripple fondly suggested, as he gazed into her eyes, "How would love do
for a substitute, then?" implying that "his way" would supply that
abstract edible in equally large doses.

David dryly added "Starvation," and thereupon Polly covered her face
with her hands, but left open a lau