“Of course not; the boy is ill-mannered and disagreeable, and he is always quarrelling with Tommy.”

“I told Tommy that,” laughed Elsie, “and he said he guessed he’d done his share of the quarrelling, and that, anyway, Joe Marchant was the under dog now, and he was going to forgive and forget.”

“Dear little Tommy!” exclaimed Mrs. Lambert, admiringly.

“And he said, too, mother, that he knew you wouldn’t object; that you always told him that Thanksgiving Day was the very day to make up with folks and be good to ’em, but I knew you would object to Joe Marchant, and so—­”

“I—­I don’t know about it, Elsie.  If Tommy feels like that, I—­I don’t believe it would be wise for me to check him.  No, I don’t believe I can.  Tommy is nearer right than I am.  He is doing a fine, generous thing, and it is the right thing, and I think we must put up with Joe Marchant, Elsie, after all.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, if you don’t, mamma; but I thought you wouldn’t like it, and it would spoil the day.”

“No, nothing done in that spirit could spoil the day; and, Elsie, I hope the rest of you will make your choice of guests with as good reason as Tommy has.”

Elsie looked at her mother with an odd, eager expression, as if she were about to speak.  Then she suddenly lifted up her head with a little air of resolution, and starting forward hurriedly left the room.

Mrs. Lambert laughed as the door closed.

“I think I know what Elsie is going to do,” she said smilingly to Mrs. Mason.  “There is a young teacher in her school, Miss Matthews, who is seldom invited anywhere, she is so unpopular.  I’ve often asked Elsie to bring her home, and she has always put it off; but I believe that this act of Tommy’s and what I’ve said about it has made such an impression upon her that she has gone now to invite Miss Matthews to be her guest next week.  She was going to tell me about it at first, then she thought better of it.  They’ve all had this liberty for the last year—­not to tell—­it’s so much more fun for them; and I can always trust Elsie to look out for things, she has such good sense with her good heart.”

“Yes, and you all seem to have such good sense and such good hearts, Mrs. Lambert,” said Mrs. Mason, as she rose to go; but as she walked down the street she said to herself, “Such good sense and such good hearts, overflowing with charity and forgiveness for everybody but John Lambert!”

CHAPTER II.

It was Thanksgiving Day, and just three minutes to the dinner-hour at the Lamberts’, and all the guests had arrived except the one that Elsie had bidden.

“Don’t fret, Elsie,” whispered Mrs. Lambert to her, as she noted the two red spots burning in her cheeks and her anxious glances toward the clock,—­“don’t fret; she’s probably going to be fashionably exact on the stroke of the hour.”