All over New England November means Thanksgiving, and it did in Westmore. There were no cousins and no grandmother to come to the Merrill cottage, for Uncle John lived in far California. Some time, Father said, when their ship came in, they would buy a little Ford, and a tent, and go to see Uncle John and Aunt Nell. But whenever Lucy and Dora asked whether the ship was coming, Father would smile and shake his head. Still, there was to be company for dinner. Olive and her father were invited. Everybody wanted Olive, and it would not be polite to ask her without asking Mr. Gates. Olive would not come alone, because she kept house for her father. She would not go to the beach until she arranged for him to have his meals with the people next door. “Mother,” asked Dora on the Monday before Thanksgiving, “are we going to have a turkey?” “Not at seventy-two cents a pound,” said Mrs. Merrill. “Even if I could afford to pay that much, I would not. I don’t think there is any need for them to cost so much.” “Will there be a chicken?” asked Dora. “I think we may manage that,” said Mrs. Merrill, “if they are at all reasonable in price, but we may have just a nice piece of pork or beef to roast. It isn’t _what_ we have to eat that makes the Thanksgiving dinner, child. It is the being thankful for it.” “Mr. Thorne said last Sunday that we must save all the pennies we can for the Christmas manger. Because there are children in Europe and Asia who haven’t even bread to eat.” “I know it,” said Mrs. Merrill, and she went on sewing Dora’s school dress. “I am not going to buy any more candy,” said Dora. “Yesterday Uncle Dan gave me ten cents for caramels. Wouldn’t you put it in your mite-box if you were I, Mother?” “Yes,” said Mrs. Merrill. “Sometimes it chokes me to have enough to eat when I think about those children. If you and Lucy and Dan are willing, we will have pork for our Thanksgiving dinner. I will ask how much more the chicken would cost. Then we will put the difference into the fund for the hungry children.” “Lucy will want to,” said Dora. “Uncle Dan may want things very nice because of Olive. Perhaps he would be disappointed not to have chicken. Will you ask him, Mother?” “Ask him yourself, child. He’ll do it for you if he will for anybody.” That evening Dora asked Uncle Dan. She did not need to coax him. Uncle Dan had heard about the hungry children. “Sure thing,” he said. “Roast pork is good enough for me.” When Mrs. Merrill went to market she inquired the price of a large chicken. A big one would be needed for a dinner for seven people. Then she bought the pork. When she came home she took ninety-eight cents from her purse and gave it to the children. “You may divide it between your mite-boxes,” she said. Thanksgiving Day was cold and blustering, which made the warm house seem all the more pleasant. A cheerful fire blazed in the Franklin stove and Father was at home.