you have enough to do, Betty."

"I tell you I want to do it," the girl insisted.

"Oh, I know!" said Jessie; "you like to help about it. Well, you may;
and I'm much obliged to you, besides." And after a last look at the
fine turkey cooling his heels (if he had any) in the pantry, Jessie
went into the other part of the house.

When dinner time arrived and papa came from town, there duly appeared
on the table the potpie before mentioned, and various other things
pleasant to eat, but nothing was seen of the turkey so carefully
roasted nor of the chicken pie, nor of the pudding that caused the
young cook so much anxiety. Nothing was said about them, either, and
it was not Thanksgiving nor Christmas, though it was only a few days
before the former.

It was certainly odd, and stranger things happened that night. In the
first place, Jessie sat up in her room and wrote a letter; and then,
after her mother was in bed and everything still, she stole down the
back stairs with a candle, quietly, as though she was doing some
mischief. Betty, who came down to help her, brought a box in from the
woodshed; and the two plotters, very silently, with many listenings at
the door to see if any one was stirring, packed that box full of good
things.

In it the turkey, wrapped in a snowy napkin, found a bed, the chicken
pie and the plum pudding--beautiful looking as Betty said it would
be--bore him company; and numerous small things, jam jars, fruits,
etc., etc., filled the box to its very top. Then the cover, provided
with screws so that no hammering need be done, was fastened on.

"Now you go to bed, Miss Jessie," whispered Betty. "I'll wait."

"No, you must be tired," said Jessie. "I'd just as lief."

"But I'd ruther," said Betty shortly--"'n' I'm going to; it won't be
long now."

So Jessie crept quietly upstairs, and before long there was a low rap
on the kitchen door. Betty opened it, and there stood a man.

"Ready?" said he.

"Yes," answered Betty; "but don't speak loud; Miss Jarvis has sharp
ears, 'n' we don't want her disturbed. Here's the card to mark it by,"
and she produced a card from the table.

The man put it in his pocket, shouldered the box, and Betty shut the
door.

Not one of those good things ever went into the Jarvis dining-room!

The next morning things went on just as usual in the house. The
kitchen door was left open and Mrs. Jarvis was welcome to smell any of
the appetizing odours that wafted out into