“Jamie, come quick.  Get me some water.

“There,” when the restorative had had the desired effect.  “Why, what ailed you, Letty?  You weren’t sick when I went away.  Bless me!  I hope you ain’t going to be sick, and such a surprise as we’ve got for you, too, out in the barn.  But there.  If that isn’t just like me.  I didn’t mean to tell you yet.”

“Why, mother, mother,” exclaimed Father Mason excitedly as he rushed into the room.  “Somebody’s just come from the village with this,” flourishing Letty’s skirt wildly around, “and they say the train was stopped right back of our house.”

“For the land’s sake, Job!  Well, if that ain’t our Letty’s red balmoral.  How did it—­is that the—­Letty, was it you?” she finished up rather disjointedly.

Letty nodded, unable to speak just then.

“Well, who’d ‘a’ thought it.  So you saved the train!  Do tell us all about it.”

“Mother, don’t you think we’d better wait a bit till she looks a mite stronger,” suggested kind-hearted Job Mason.

“Well, I don’t know but you’re right, but I’m clean beat out.  Don’t you think, Job, that we might bring Letty’s surprise—­but there’s the surprise walking in from the barn of itself.  Tired of waiting, likely as not.”

“Yes, Letty,” broke in Laurie.  “Did you know your brother had come home and that you saved his life this afternoon with that old red skirt of yours?” So the mischief was out at last, and though the excitement and everything nearly killed Letty, it didn’t quite, or I don’t think I would have undertaken to tell this story.  I don’t like sad Thanksgiving stories.  Not that there aren’t any; I only say I don’t like them, that’s all.

Well, sitting in her brother’s lap—­(what, fifteen years old?)—­yes, sitting in her brother’s lap, she had to tell over and over again all she thought and felt that afternoon, and to hear over and over again what a dreadful time they had keeping the secret from her.  How they were so afraid that she would find out that they expected to meet her brother—­how he had been so anxious that she should not be told lest by some accident he shouldn’t arrive, and then she would be bitterly disappointed and her Thanksgiving spoiled.

Accident!  Letty shuddered each time that they reached that part of the story, for she thought how nearly the accident had happened, and as she knelt to say her prayers that night it was with a penitent heart that she remembered how she had felt in the morning, and she had added fervently, “Dear Lord, I thank Thee for this beautiful Thanksgiving.”

THE KNIGHT’S DILEMMA.

(From Chaucer.)

One of the nobles of King Arthur’s court had grievously transgressed the laws of chivalry and knightly honor, and for this cause had he been condemned to suffer death.  Great sorrow reigned among all the lords and dames, and Queen Guinevere, on bent knees, had sued the king’s pardon for the recreant knight.  At length, after many entreaties, Arthur’s generous heart relented, and he gave the doomed life into the queen’s hands to do with it as she willed.