UDSKRIFT 🔗
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It looks as if it was going to be a
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green Thanksgiving Day tomorrow, mister Sweet, the grocer said, as
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he helped Bruce to load his express cart with the
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things for the dinner that he had just bought for
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his grandmother. The cart was pretty full to begin with,
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for a fat turkey sat up near the seat. There
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were some potatoes and a big winter squash back of him,
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and the bag of turnips. Now there were the sugar,
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the cranberries, raisins, and citron to go in. But mister
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Sweet was a wonder at packing. He put all the
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packages in so they would not spill, and then he
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smiled at Bruce and at Hiram, who had come down
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town to help with a Thanksgiving marketing. Can you two
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fellows get home all right without a spill, do you think?
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He asked? You know, it is up hill all the
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way and steep at that. Oh yes, thank you, mister Sweet.
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Bruce said, we'll manage. Ah, said Hiram in a loud voice,
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to show that he would do his part. Hiram was
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Bruce's tame goat, and he could pull a loaded express
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cart up almost any steep. The cord fastened to his harness.
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Off they started, and soon they left the shops behind
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and started up Hilldale Avenue toward grandmother's house. Tap tap,
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went Hiram's little hoofs on the sidewalk, and Bruce ran
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along beside, kicking the dry leaves that danced along beside him.
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Thanksgiving tomorrow and roasted turkey, mashed turnips, cranberry sauce, and
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citrones and raisins in the fruitcake. No wonder, Hiram's feet
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twinkled along so gaily and Bruce drove him with a hop,
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skip and a jump. All those good things to eat
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were right there in the cart. Up up the avenue
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they climbed, and soon now they would be stopping with
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a flourish at grandmother's kitchen door. Just before they reached
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the house, though, they came to Claire's house, and from
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her kitchen there drifted the sweetest kind of a smell
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boiling butterscotch. And Claire always wanted to share the candy
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that she made with Bruce. Perhaps she had telephoned to
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him while he was doing the marketing. Anyway, he decided
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to stop and see Claire for a few moments. He
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tied Hiram to the hedge and went in. Yes, that
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was just what had happened. Claire telephoned over to ask
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Bruce to come and share the butterscotch, and she was
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so glad that it was not too late. They poured
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it out into pans, cut it into little squares, and
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then waited awhile for it to cool enough so that
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they might eat some. I must go now, Claire, Bruce said.
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At last, you see Hiram and I have the whole
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Thanksgiving dinner out here in the road. But when they
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went out, Hiram and the dinner were gone. I tied
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him ever so carefully, Bruce said, almost ready to cry,
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for there was not a sight of the cart or
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the goat anywhere. We must look for it, then, Claire said,
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And they went all the way to the bottom of
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the hill and as far as mister Sweet's grocery store,
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but not even a hair of Hiram or a single
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raisin was to be found. Oh, it's too bad, and
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it's all my fault, Bruce, Claire said, for I was
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making candy and you smelled it. I'm going home with
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you and tell your grandmother all about it. But it
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was long after the time when Bruce had been expected home.
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When they did arrive, they had spent almost an hour
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looking for the Thanksgiving dinner that had run away. There
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was Missus Flynn, who came sometimes to help grandmother when
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she had a good deal of cooking to do in
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the kitchen. But she was not cooking, oh no, she
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was telling such a wonderful story that grandfather was listening,
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and no one noticed Bruce and Claire as they came
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into the kitchen and listened too. Not believe in fairies,
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Missus Flynn was saying, her irish eyes blue, and her
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wrinkled cheeks rosy with excitement. The fairies this very day,
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just a bit of a while ago, brought me and
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Patsy and Ellen and little Bridget such a Thanksgiving dinner
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as we have not laid eyes on in years, a
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fat turkey, and potatoes and squash and turnips, and all
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the makings of sauce and a pudding. Here were the
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children looking out of the window at the dinners going by,
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and all at once a little express cart, all alone
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of itself, rolled up to our gate out round Patsy,
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just in time to fetch it in. Such a dinner
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as we've never had in our lives before. You don't
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say so, Grandfather said, fine, Missus Flynn, but odd, I'm
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so glad. Grandmother said, we were going to send some
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dinner down to you, but it wouldn't have been all
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of that. Bruce and Claire, their eyes popping out of
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their heads, went out into the back yard. They didn't
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know what to say, but just then Hiram wandered in
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through the gate. His mouth was red from berries he
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had been eating, Some green leaves hung from his whiskers,
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and a bit of torn rope was around his neck.
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Hiram always did come home in the end, and he
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never was able to hide anything that he had done.
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Hiram has been eating from our hedge, Bruce, Claire exclaimed,
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and he gnawed the rope that held the cart. Bruce
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went on, and then the Thanksgiving dinner ran away down
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the hill to Missus Flynn's house. There at the beginning
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of the avenue, Claire giggled, come on in and tell grandmother.
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Bruce said, she will just be glad, but we won't
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tell Missus Flynn. Claire added, we'll let her believe in
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the fairies. And Grandmother felt just the same way about it.
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Patsy needed a cart, and Grandfather said that Bruce could
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have a new one and they would have a chicken
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pie for dinner. How about Hiram, Bruce asked, it looks
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as if it was going to be a green Thanksgiving Day.
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Grandfather said, you don't ever need to worry about a
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goat and out in the yard. Hiram answered, Bah, and
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of the Dinner that Ran Away by Caroline Sherwin Bailey