"Some
cinnamon an' some mace--there! I'll tell you, while you weigh."
It seemed to her that she was buying the spice islands of the world;
and though the money lay at home in her drawer, honestly ready to pay,
the recklessness of credit gave her an added joy. The store had its
market, also, at Thanksgiving time, and she bargained for a turkey. It
could be sent her, the day before, by some of the neighbors. When she
left the counter, her arms and her little basket were filled with
bundles. Joshua Harden was glad to take them.
"No, I won't ride," said Lucy Ann, "Much obliged to _you_. Jest leave
the things inside the fence. I'd ruther walk. I don't git out any too
often."
She took her way home along the brown road, stepping lightly and
swiftly, and full of busy thoughts. Flocks of birds went whirring by
over the yellowed fields. Lucy Ann could have called out to them, in
joyous understanding, they looked so free. She, too, seemed to be
flying on the wings of a fortunate wind.
All that week she scrubbed and regulated, and took a thousand capable
steps as briskly as those who work for the home-coming of those they
love. The neighbors dropped in, one after another, to ask where she was
going to spend Thanksgiving.
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