“Skipper Ben came over to see me, the day before Nathaniel was to sail.  Aaron came with him.

“I said to Aaron: 

“’What can I give to Nathaniel to carry to sea with him to make him think of home?  Cake, preserves, apples?  I haven’t got much; I have done all I can for him, poor boy.’

“Brother looked at me curiously, and said: 

“’Give him one of those wild geese, and we will fatten it on shipboard and will have it for our Thanksgiving dinner.’

“What brother Aaron said pleased me.  The young gander was a noble bird, the handsomest of the lot; and I resolved to keep the geese to kill for my own use and to give him to Nathaniel.

“The next morning—­it was late in September—­I took leave of Nathaniel.  I tried to be calm and cheerful and hopeful.  I watched him as he went down the walk with the gander struggling under his arms.  A stranger would have laughed, but I did not feel like laughing; it was true that the boys who went coasting were usually gone but a few months and came home hardy and happy.  But when poverty compels a mother and son to part, after they have been true to each other, and shared their feelings in common, it seems hard, it seems hard—­though I do not like to murmur or complain at anything allotted to me.

“I saw him go over the hill.  On the top he stopped and held up the gander.  He disappeared; yes, my own Nathaniel disappeared.  I think of him now as one who disappeared.

“November came—­it was a terrible month on the coast that year.  Storm followed storm; the sea-faring people talked constantly of wrecks and losses.  I could not sleep on the nights of those high winds.  I used to lie awake thinking over all the happy hours I had lived with Nathaniel.

“Thanksgiving week came.

“It was full of an Indian-summer brightness after the long storms.  The nights were frosty, bright, and calm.

“I could sleep on those calm nights.

“One morning, I thought I heard a strange sound in the woodland pasture.  It was like a wild goose.  I listened; it was repeated.  I was lying in bed.  I started up—­I thought I had been dreaming.

“On the night before Thanksgiving I went to bed early, being very tired.  The moon was full; the air was calm and still.  I was thinking of Nathaniel, and I wondered if he would indeed have the gander for his Thanksgiving dinner:  if it would be cooked as well as I would have cooked it, and if he would think of me that day.

“I was just going to sleep, when suddenly I heard a sound that made me start up and hold my breath.

“‘Honk!’

“I thought it was a dream followed by a nervous shock.

“‘Honk! honk!’

“There it was again, in the yard.  I was surely awake and in my senses.

“I heard the geese cackle.

“‘Honk! honk! honk!’

“I got out of bed and lifted the curtain.  It was almost as light as day.  Instead of two geese there were three.  Had one of the neighbors’ geese stolen away?