ould embarrass Bobby more than it would you. The school law won't let
me keep you longer than an hour at night, but every night for a month
you'll stay an hour after school. And, Tim, here's a note for your
father. Don't try to get out of delivering it. I'll call him up at
six o'clock to-night and ask if he has received it."

Tim gave his father the note that night, and something very serious
happened to him. More than that, he had to work every Saturday for a
long, long time in his father's store to help pay the money his father
insisted on sending to Miss Mason. Of course it was impossible to
replace the book, for the autographs could never be collected again,
but Mr. Roon was determined to pay Miss Mason the sum her friend had
spent for the book. It was a great deal of money, but "the Roons
always pay up," declared Mr. Roon, "and if it takes Tim the rest of
his lazy life, he's got to work out the money."

Soon every one but Tim forgot the book, for the Thanksgiving Day
exercises were drawing nearer and nearer. The Blossoms always had
wonderful times Thanksgivings, and this year, with Aunt Polly with
them, they meant to have the best holiday yet.

Such boxes and barrels as came down from Brookside Farm, packed by Jud
and his father, and reminding the four little Blossoms of the good
times they had had that summer. There were red apples and green
apples, yellow pumpkins, potatoes, turnips and beautiful crisp celery,
black walnuts and butternuts, wonderful for cake and candy and what
Dot called "plain eating," and, most wonderful of all, two great plump
turkeys.

"Those are some you saw running around, Twaddles," Aunt Polly told him
as he helped her unpack the box. "Remember how they looked? You
thought they were chickens."

The morning before Thanksgiving Day fresh eggs and butter came by
parcels post.

"If you'd only sent a tablecloth and a few forks, Polly," laughed
Mother Blossom, "I shouldn't have had a thing to do about getting
dinner."

Meg and Bobby couldn't think much about the dinner. Wasn't this the
day they were to recite?

"Wouldn't it be too awful," said Meg, at the breakfast table, "if when
I got up on the platform I should forget every word?"

"But you won't," Mother Blossom assured her. "You'll remember every
word. See if you don't. You come home to lunch, don't you, children,
and get dressed?"

"Yes. And then we have to be back by half-past one," said Bobby
importantly. "The exercises beg