she sang, as she peeled the potatoes—­

   Where Africa’s sunny fount—­

“Come, Mary alanna, and scour the knives, sure an’ I forgot them at noon to-day.

      -tains
   Flow down their crimson sands;
   From many an ancient river
   And many a sandy—­

Put a dhrop more wather in the kittle Tommy—­don’t ye hear it spittin’?”

      -plain
   They call us to deliver—­

Here a shout sounded outside, and Bugsey came tumbling in and said he thought he had seen Pearlie coming away down the road across the track, whereupon Danny cried so uproariously that Bugsey, like the gentleman he was, withdrew his statement, or at least modified it by saying it might be Pearlie and it might not.

But it was Pearl, sure enough, and Danny had the pleasure of giving the alarm, beating on the window, maudlin with happiness, while Pearl said good-bye to Tom Motherwell, who had brought her home.  Tommy and Bugsey and Patsey waited giggling just inside the door, while Mary and Mrs. Watson went out to greet her.

Pearl was in at last, kissing every little last Watson, forgetting she had done Tommy and doing him over again; with Danny holding tightly to her skirt through it all, everybody talking at once.

Then the excitement calmed down somewhat, but only to break right out again, for Jimmy who had been downtown came home and found the box which Tom Motherwell had left on the step after Pearl had gone in.  They carried it in excitedly and eager little hands raised the lid, eager little voices shouted with delight.

“Didn’t I tell ye we’d have a turkey when Pearlie came home,” Mary shouted triumphantly.

Pearlie rose at once to her old position of director-in-chief.

“The turkey’ll be enough for us, and it’ll be done in time yet, and we’ll send the chicken to Mrs. McGuire, poor owld lady, she wuz good to me the day I left.  Now ma, you sit down, me and Mary’ll git along.  Here Bugsey and Tommy and Patsey and Danny, here’s five cents a piece for ye to go and buy what ye like, but don’t ye buy anything to ate, for ye’ll not need it, but yez can buy hankies, any kind ye like, ye’ll need them now the winter’s comin’ on, and yez’ll be havin’ the snuffles.”

When the boys came back with their purchases they were put in a row upon their mother’s bed to be out of the way while the supper was being prepared, all except wee Bugsey, who went, from choice, down to the tracks to see the cars getting loaded—­the sizzle of the turkey in the oven made the tears come.

Two hours later the Watson family sat down to supper, not in sections, but the whole family.  The table had long since been inadequate to the family’s needs, but two boards, with a flour-sack on them, from the end of it to the washing machine overcame the difficulty.

Was there ever such a turkey as that one?  Mrs. Watson carved it herself on the back of the stove.