“And I,” said her husband, “am thankful we all have our eyesight.  I have thought more about it since I have visited two or three Blind Asylums.  Susy, it is your turn.”

“Papa, I’m thankful I’m so near thirteen.”

Mr. Parlin stroked his mustache to hide a smile.  He thought that was a very young remark.

“And you, Prudy?”

“I’m so thankful, sir,” answered Prudy, reflecting a while, “so thankful this house isn’t burnt up.”

“Bless your little grateful heart,” said her father, leaning towards her and stroking her cheek.  “For my part, I think one fire is quite enough for one family.  I confess I never should have dreamed of being thankful we hadn’t had two.  Well, Alice, what have you to say?  I see a thought in your eyes.”

“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 pretty soon.

CHAPTER X.

GRANDMA’S OLD TIMES.

Grandma Read was in her own room, sitting before a bright “clean” fire.  She did not like coal; she said it made too much dust; so she always used wood.  She sat with her knitting in her hands, clicking the needles merrily while she looked into the coals.

People can see a great many things in coals.  Just now she saw the face of her dear husband, who had long ago been buried out of her sight.  He had a broad-brimmed hat on his head, and there was a twinkle in his eye, for he had been a funny man, and very fond of a joke.  Grandma smiled as if she could almost hear him tell one of his droll stories.

Presently there was a little tap at the door.  Grandma roused herself, and looked up to see who was coming.

“Walk in,” said she; “walk in, my dear.”

“Yes’m, we came a-purpose to walk in,” replied a cheery voice; and Prudy and Dotty danced into the room, with their arms about each other’s waists.