Fer business would, of course be dull in town.--But _didn't_ come:--
We got a postal later, sayin' when they had no trade
They filled the time "invoicin' goods," and that was why he staid.

And then he quit a-writin' altogether: Not a word--
Exceptin' what the neighbors brung who'd been to town and heard
What store John was clerkin' in, and went round to inquire
If they could buy their goods there less and sell their produce higher.

And so the Summer faded out, and Autumn wore away,
And a keener Winter never fetched around Thanksgivin'-Day!
The night before that day of thanks I'll never quite fergit,
The wind a-howlin' round the house--it makes me creepy yit!

And there set me and Mother--me a-twistin' at the prongs
Of a green scrub-ellum forestick with a vicious pair of tongs,
And Mother sayin', "_David! David!_" in a' undertone,
As though she thought that I was thinkin' bad-words unbeknown.

"I've dressed the turkey, David, fer to-morrow," Mother said,
A-tryin' to wedge some pleasant subject in my stubborn head,--
"And the mince-meat I'm a-mixin' is perfection mighty nigh;
And the pound-cake is delicious-rich--" "Who'll eat 'em?" I-says-I.

"The cramberries is drippin-sweet," says Mother, runnin' on,
P'tendin' not to hear me;--"and somehow I thought of John
All the time they was a-jellin'--fer you know they allus was
His favour--he likes 'em so!" Says I, "Well, s'pose he does?"

"Oh, nothin' much!" says Mother, with a quiet sort o' smile--