g considered so essential to a
successful Thanksgiving Day was entirely absent.

"We never have this kind of Thanksgiving weather in Oakdale, do we,
Grace?" asked Miriam.

"Neither do we in Fairview," put in Elfreda. "I can recall only one
Thanksgiving that wasn't snowy, and I can remember that because I
behaved so outrageously. I was a young barbarian of eight, who screamed
and kicked my way to whatever I wanted. Two days before Thanksgiving Pa
brought me home a sled. It was red with a white deer painted on it and
underneath the deer was the word 'Fleet,' printed in big white letters.
I knew that with such a name it could hardly help being the best sled in
Fairview. The night before Thanksgiving the rain came down in torrents
and the next morning there wasn't a square inch of snow for miles around
on which to try out my beloved sled.

"It was a bitter morning for me, and I proceeded to wreak my displeasure
upon my family. I behaved like a savage all day and ended by being
locked in Ma's room with my Thanksgiving dinner on a tray, minus
dessert. I got even that night, though, for Ma had invited our minister
and his wife to dinner. I waited until I had had my dinner and they had
finished, too, and were sitting in the parlor. Then I began screaming
down a register, which was right over them, my very candid opinion of
them and of Thanksgiving Day in general.

"It was funny, wasn't it?" she chuckled in answer to the burst of
laughter that greeted her recital. "But it was dreadful for poor Ma. The
minister's wife never forgave me for it. She always referred to me
behind my back as that 'terrible Briggs child.'"

"Another reminiscence for 'The Adventures of Elfreda,'" said Miriam.

"Elfreda is going to write a book of her early adventures and
misadventures," explained Grace to Patience. "Did we ever tell you about
it?"

"No; but in the event of its publication I speak now for an autographed
copy," returned Patience, with twinkling eyes.

"I'll have one done up for you in crushed Levant," was Elfreda's prompt
offer.

"This is our church," proclaimed Mabel. The car found a place for itself
in the long line of automobiles drawn up at the curb, and, alighting
from it, the party made their way sedately up the broad stone walk to
the main entrance of the stately, gray stone edifice.

During the beautiful Thanksgiving service Grace's thoughts would drift
into the same painful channel that she had inwardly vowed to avoid.