Thanksgiving dinners. What did you do last year, Reliance?"

Reliance looked very sober. "We didn't have much of a Thanksgiving last
year, for it was just before my mother died and she was ill then, so us
children just had to get along the best we could. Somebody sent us in a
pie and some jelly for mother and that is about all we had to be
thankful for. I suppose it was much better than nothing. We ate all the
pie at one meal. Billy said we might as well for it wouldn't last two
days anyhow unless we had little bits of pieces, so each of us had a
whole quarter. Billy tried to trap a rabbit or shoot a squirrel or
something, but he hadn't enough shot and the rabbits didn't trap."

Secretly Edna was rather glad to hear this, even though it meant that
the Fairmans went without meat for dinner. She walked along pondering
over these facts and wondering which were to be preferred. She could not
tell whether to be glad the squirrels and rabbits had escaped or to be
sorry that the Fairmans could not have had game for Thanksgiving. It was
rather a hard matter to settle, so finally she dismissed the subject and
gave her attention to the pigs whose pen they now had reached. Edna did
not think them very cleanly or attractive creatures, however, and was
very soon ready to leave them that she might see the chickens and ducks
which she found much more interesting.

The short November day was already so near its end that the fowls were
thinking of going to roost, though the hour was not late, and after
watching them take their supper, which Edna helped Reliance to
distribute, the two girls went on to the garden, now robbed of most of
its vegetables. There were a few tomatoes to be found on the vines;
though celery, turnips and cabbages made a brave showing. Edna felt that
she was quite a discoverer when she came across some tiny yellow
tomatoes which the frost had not yet touched, and which she gathered in
triumph to carry back to her mother.

"I know where there's a chestnut tree," announced Reliance suddenly.

"Oh, do let's find it," said Edna. "I will put the tomatoes in my
handkerchief and carry them that way. We ought to gather all the
chestnuts we can, for I know mighty well after the boys come there won't
be a nut left." There was a rush down the hill to the big chestnut tree
about whose roots lay the prickly burs which the frost had opened to
show the shining brown nuts within.

"I don't see how we are going to carry them,"