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“Hullo!” he called. “You didn’t walk?”

“Oh, I jest clipped it over,” returned Lucy Ann carelessly. “I’m goin’ to git a ride home. I see Marden’s Wagon when I come by the post-office.”

“Well, I hadn’t any expectation o’ your bein’ here,” said Ezra. “I meant to ride round tomorrer. We want you to spend Thanksgivin’ Day with us. I’ll come over arter you.”

“Oh, Ezra!” said Lucy Ann, quite sincerely, with her concession to his lower fortunes, “why didn’t you say so! John’s asked me.”.

“The dogs!” said Ezra. It was his deepest oath. Then he drew a sigh. “Well,” he concluded, “that’s our luck. We al’ays come out the leetle end o’ the horn. Abby’ll be real put out. She ‘lotted on it. Well, John’s inside there. He’s buyin’ up ’bout everything there is. You’ll git more’n you would with us.”

He drove gloomily away, and Lucy Ann stepped into the store, musing. She was rather sorry not to go to Ezra’s, if he cared.

It almost seemed as if she might ask John to let her take the plainer way. John would understand. She saw him at once where he stood, prosperous and hale, in his great-coat, reading items from a long memorandum, while Jonathan Stevens weighed and measured. The store smelled of spice, and the clerk that minute spilled some cinnamon. Its fragrance struck upon Lucy Ann like a call from some far-off garden, to be entered if she willed. She laid a hand on her brother’s arm, and her lips opened to words she had not chosen:–

“John, you shouldn’t ha’ drove away so quick, t’other day. You jest flung out your invitation ‘n’ run. You never give me no time to answer. Ezra’s asked me to go there.”

“Well, if that ain’t smart!” returned John. “Put in ahead, did he? Well, I guess it’s the fust time he ever got round. I’m terrible sorry, Lucy. The children won’t think it’s any kind of a Thanksgivin’ without you. Somehow they’ve got it into their heads it’s grandma comin’. They can’t seem to understand the difference.”

“Well, you tell ’em I guess grandma’s kind o’ pleased for me to plan it as I have,” said Lucy Ann, almost gayly. Her face wore a strange, excited look. She breathed a little faster. She saw a pleasant way before her and her feet seemed to be tending toward it without her own volition. “You give my love to ’em. I guess they’ll have a proper nice time.”

She lingered about the store until John had gone, and then went forward to the counter. The storekeeper looked at her respectfully. Everybody had a great liking for Lucy Ann. She had been a faithful daughter, and now that she seemed, in so mysterious a way, to be growing like her mother, even men of her own age regarded her with deference.

“Mr. Stevens,” said she, “I didn’t bring so much money with me as I might if I’d had my wits about me. Should you jest as soon trust me for some Thanksgivin’ things?

“Certain,” replied Jonathan. “Clean out the store, if you want. Your credit’s good.” He, too, felt the beguilement of the time.

“I want some things,” repeated Lucy Ann, with determination. “Some cinnamon an’ some mace–there! I’ll tell you, while you weigh.”

It seemed to her that she was buying the spice islands of the world; and though the money lay at home in her drawer, honestly ready to pay, the recklessness of credit gave her an added joy. The store had its market, also, at Thanksgiving time, and she bargained for a turkey. It could be sent her, the day before, by some of the neighbors. When she left the counter, her arms and her little basket were filled with bundles. Joshua Harden was glad to take them.

“No, I won’t ride,” said Lucy Ann, “Much obliged to you. Jest leave the things inside the fence. I’d ruther walk. I don’t git out any too often.”