e. They met there every day and
exchanged confidences. They loved each other like sisters--neither of
them had an own sister--but to-day a spirit of rivalry had arisen.

[Footnote 1: From _Harper's Young People_, November 25, 1890.]

The tough dry blackberry vines on the wall twisted around Submit; she
looked, with her circle of red petticoat, like some strange late
flower blooming out on the wall. "I know he don't, Sarah Adams," said
she.

"Father said he'd weigh twenty pounds," returned Sarah, in a small,
weak voice, which still had persistency in it.

"I don't believe he will. Our Thanksgiving turkey is twice as big. You
know he is, Sarah Adams."

"No, I don't, Submit Thompson."

"Yes, you do."

Sarah lowered her chin, and shook her head with a decision that was
beyond words. She was a thin, delicate-looking little girl, her small
blue-clad figure bent before the wind, but there was resolution in her
high forehead and her sharp chin.

Submit nodded violently.

Sarah shook her head again. She hugged Thankful, and shook her head,
with her eyes still staring defiantly into Submit's hood.

Submit's black eyes in the depths of it were like two sparks. She
nodded vehemently; the gesture was not enough for her; she nodded and
spoke together. "Sarah Adams," said she, "what will you give me if our
turkey is bigger than your turkey?"

"It ain't."

"What will you give me if it is?"

Sarah stared at Submit. "I don't know what you mean, Submit Thompson,"
said she, with a stately and puzzled air.

"Well, I'll tell you. If your turkey weighs more than ours I'll give
you--I'll give you my little work-box with the picture on the top, and
if our turkey weighs more than yours you give me--What will you give
me, Sarah Adams?"

Sarah hung her flaxen head with a troubled air. "I don't know," said
she. "I don't believe I've got anything mother would be willing to
have me give away."

"There's Thankful. Your mother wouldn't care if you gave her away."

Sarah started, and hugged Thankful closer. "Yes, my mother would care,
too," said she. "Don't you know my Aunt Rose from Boston made her and
gave her to me?"

Sarah's beautiful young Aunt Rose from Boston was the special
admiration of both the little girls. Submit was ordinarily impressed
by her name, but now she took it coolly.

"What if she did?" she returned. "She can make another. It's just
made out of a piece of old linen, anyhow. My work-box is real
handsome;