6 THE ACORN All hail to the brown suet pudding! So plump and so wonderous sweet, With currants and raisins and spices, For the epicure surely a treat. O joy of the Thanksgiving dinner, So dear to each one and all; When thick with sauce thou'rt covered, For a good share does each one call. O may we each year have a pudding, So plump and so wonderous sweet, So full of the raisins and spices Prepared for the Thanksgiving treat. Walter Wilson '08. It was the night before Thanksgiving. People were rushing hurriedly in and out of the shops. The windows were brightly lighted and all looked cheerful and warm within. Outside small flakes of snow were softly falling and the air was cold. A boy of about twelve years walked down the street and pulled his scanty clothing about him as a cold wind whirled round the corner. His face was thin and pale and from it shone forth two large dark eyes that looked longingly into the shop windows. There was no Thanksgiving dinner in store for him tomorrow. He was brave, he wouldn't mind. But his mother'and little Madge, wouldn't they enjoy some plum pudding and roasted turkey? He thought of the good dinner they ate one year ago when his papa was alive and they lived in a nice little house on the outskirts of the town. His THE ACORN 7 father had taken ill and their small savings were paid out for doctor bills. After a month had passed his father had died, their money was gone and they were forced to seek a humbler home. Tim's mother sewed and he sold papers on the street and from these small earnings the family managed to live. Tim had not been so successful today as he should liked to have been. Everyone seemed too busy to notice him. However he tried to be patient and put on a cheerful appearance to greet his mother and sister. As he began walking with a brisker step, all at once a piece of money rolled and lay directly in front of him. It had dropped from the lady's purse, just ahead. She was not aware of it for she walked on chatting gaily to her companion. Tim stooped and picked the money up. It was a bright new silver dollar. He paused and looked at it. O, if it only belonged to him. Think how happy his mother and Madge would be if they saw him carrying home an armful of good things. Madge expected him to bring her something, and think how bitter her disappointment would be. Yet, he had the dollar, why not keep it? The tempter kept encouraging him and he held the money tightly in his hand for a moment. But at last his honest heart rebelled and trying hard to swallow the lump that rose in his throat, he ran to give it to the owner. He caught up with her and raising his cap said, "Here's some money that belongs to you, it fell from your purse." A kindly face smiled down upon him and a sweet gentle voice reeplid, "Thank you, my boy. What is your name?" "Tim Brown," he answered simply. The lady noticed that his clothes were spare and his face told of his poverty stricken condition. Her heart went out in sympathy to the child and she inquired about his home, his parents and his work. Tim told his story, then she asked him if he would not prefer working for her husband in an office, earning monthly wages. The joy that lighted up his face was answer enough to the question. The kind woman handed him back the dollar and telling him to call on her the day following Thanksgiving, she joined her companion and went down the street. Tim stood for a minute half-bewildered by this sudden joy. Then recalling himself he went into one of the shops and buying some vegetables and meats for their dinner the next day, hurried home with a light beating heart to share the good news with his mother and sister. Leone Engstrom.