e wake of the
galloping horse, still clinging valiantly to the reins.

"I believe he did forget that wagon," said the heaven-born inventor;
"he's perfectly capable of it." But when he reached the barn he saw
the trouble. The ground had frozen hard overnight, and the wagon
wheels sunken in it were held as in a vise. Eph had started the horse
suddenly, and the obedient animal had walked right out of the shafts,
harness and all.

A half hour later Eph was back with Dobbin, unharmed but a trifle
weary. It took an hour more and all Aunt Tildy's hot water to thaw out
the wheels, and when it was done Eph was so confused that he drove to
the village and back and forgot every one of his commissions. And in
the midst of all this the clock stopped. That settled the matter for
Aunt Tildy. She neglected the pudding, she forgot the pies, and she
let the turkey bake and bake in the overheated oven while she fretted
about that clock; and when it was finally set going, after long and
careful investigation by Eph, and frantic but successful attempts on
the part of Aunt Tildy to keep the heaven-born inventor from ruining
it forever, it was the dinner hour.

Poor Aunt Tildy! That dinner was the crowning sorrow of her life. The
vegetables were cooked to rags, the pies were charcoal shells, and the
pudding had not been made. As for Miltiades, he was ten times tougher
than in life, and Eph's carving knife slipped from his form without
making a dent. Aunt Tildy wept at this, and Fisherman Jones and the
inventor looked blank enough, but there was no sorrow in the
countenance of Eph. He cheered Aunt Tildy, and he cracked jokes that
made even Fisherman Jones laugh.

"Why, bless you!" he said, "ever since I was a boy I've been looking
for a chance to make a Thanksgiving dinner out of bread and milk. And
now I've got it. Why, I wouldn't have missed this for anything!" And
there came a knock at the door.

Even Eph looked a trifle blank at this. If it should be company! "Come
in!" he called.

The door was pushed aside and a big, steaming platter entered. It was
upheld by a small boy, who stammered diffidently, "My moth-moth-mother
thaid she wanted you to try thum of her nith turkey."

"Well, well!" said Eph; "Aunt Tildy has cooked a turkey for us to-day,
and she's a main good cook"--Eph did not appear to see the signs the
heaven-born inventor was making to him--"but I've heard that your
mother does things pretty well, too. We're greatly obli