"Why, papa," said Dotty, laying her forefingers together with emphasis,
"I've known what I'm thankful for, for two days. I'm thankful Mrs.
Rosenberg isn't my mother!"

A smile went around the table.

"But, papa, I am, truly. What should I want _her_ for a mother for?"

"Indeed, I see no reason, my child, since you already have a pretty good
mother of your own."

"Pretty good, papa!" said Dotty, in a tone of mild reproof. "Why, if she
was YOUR mother, you'd think she was _very_ good."

"Granted," returned Mr. Parlin.

"I don't think you'd like it, papa, to have her scold so she shakes
down cobwebs."

"Who?"

"Mrs. Rosenberg."

"Never mind, my dear; we will not discuss that woman to-day. I hope you
will some time learn to pronounce her name."

Then followed a few remarks from Mr. Parlin upon our duty to the Giver
of all good things; after which he began at last to carve the turkey.
The children thought it was certainly time he did so. They were afraid
their thankfulness would die out if they did not have something to eat