_Ethel_. It is a fairy story. I did not know who was going to take us, though. Elgin did not mention her name. But I wonder I did not think of Miss Wilson. She is rich and lonely, and has a warm heart. Those were Elgin's conditions, and he found her. _Elise_. Elgin? _Ethel_. That's the dream again. Come, Elise, let us see if our dear mother is awake. I am nearly bursting with this good news. And I must tell you my dream. For, you see, the letter and the basket just agree with the dream. And after I have told my dream, and we have read the letter, and seen our Thanksgiving dinner, why, if you and mamma don't believe in fairies, you're funny people, that is all. (_Kisses her hand to the air._) I believe in you two dear fairies, at all events. EXEUNT. ABSALOM. BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK. It was a few days before Thanksgiving, and Herbert was out in the woods with his father shooting. It was lovely autumn weather, and the dreamy Indian-summer smiled upon the few yellow leaves that still fluttered on the woodland boughs. Herbert was the first to break the silence: "Papa, I hope you are not going to kill dear old Absalom for Thanksgiving. Let's try to shoot a wild gobbler, instead." "But there are no wild gobblers around here, my boy," replied the father. Herbert thought of the solitary turkey in their barn-yard, and it made him very sad to think that that poor bird should be beheaded for the Thanksgiving feast. And this was because the early summer rains had killed Absalom's little brothers and sisters, and left him to make his way on the farm as best he could. Herbert well remembered the morning when he brought Absalom, limp and almost dead, from the coop, and wrapt him in flannel, and put him under the kitchen stove to dry. And he reflected upon the pleasure he had experienced in bringing the little fellow up until they became companions. Many a time the gobbler had jumped upon his knee and made himself as much at home as he possibly could have done upon the bough of a tree. Herbert had fed him with scraps of meat and bread, until Absalom followed him about and seemed to feel that they were brothers. Herbert, like Absalom, had neither a brother nor a sister, and this may have been one reason that they were inseparable friends. Now when Herbert thought of Absalom in the light of a feast, it was like a little Chinese boy thinking of his pet poodle being made into pies and patties. "You are not really going to eat Absalom on Thanksgiving, are you, papa?" asked Herbert, sadly. "He's a fine fat gobbler," replied the father, evading a direct answer--"he's a fine fat gobbler, Herbert, and you know what the gobbler's mission is."