Friendsof the cause.

For minutes the ticking of the clock sounded like the dropping of pebbles in a still pool.  I could not speak, for the wonder of a miracle was upon me.  By faith the impossible had come to pass.  Finally Jane looked up and asked wistfully, “Oh!  Zury, aren’t you glad for me?”

“Glad!” echoed the girl, leaning over and caressing the faded cheek.  “I’m as happy as if I were pinning on my own orange blossoms this minute.  Dear, dear little Jinny with her beautiful dream coming true!”

I had never thought Zura beautiful.  Now, as she bent over Jane, flushed with excitement, her eyes deep glowing, her shining hair flashing back the red of the firelight, she was as brilliant as a golden pheasant hovering above a little gray sparrow.

With some sudden memory the girl stood erect and reached for a calendar.  “Hurrah!” she cried, “It’s true!  To-morrow is Thanksgiving at home.  We are going to celebrate too, if I have to sell my shoes.”

Seeing Jane still shaken with emotion and the glad tears so close to hand, Zura jumped up on a chair and began to read from the calendar as if it were a proclamation: 

“Know all ye!  Wherever you be up above or down below, far or near on the to-morrow, by my command, every citizen of these United States is to assemble all by himself, or with his best girl and give thanks.  Thanks for living and for giving.  Thanks for hospitals and people to build them.  Sermons to preach and sinners to hear.  Then give thanks and still more thanks, that to you and to me, the beautifulest land the good God ever made spells home, and friends, and America!  Amen.”

XIII

A THANKSGIVING DINNER

More and more Zura had assumed the duties of our housekeeping.  The generous sum Kishimoto San promptly forwarded each month for her maintenance so relieved the financial pressure that I was able to relax somewhat my vigilance over the treasury.  So I stepped aside that her ambition and energy might have full expression.  I knew that absorbing work erases restlessness in mind and heart as effectively as a hot iron smooths out a rough-dried cloth.  I urged her to further experiments and made a joke of her many mistakes, ofttimes when it was sheer waste of material.  But what mattered that?  Better to die softheaded, than hardhearted.  I wanted the girl to be happy.  Rather than be separated, I would let her make a bonfire of every bean, potato and barrel of flour in the house.  As even the sun has specks on it, I saw no reason to be too critical of my understudy, whose shortcomings grew less as she grew prettier.

With all the cocksureness of youth, Zura seized the domestic steering gear.  Sometimes the weather was very fair and we sailed along.  Often it was squally, but the crew was merry, and I was happy.  I had something of my very own to love.