David had not made much change in his usual raiment, but he was shaved to the blood, and his round red face shone with soap and satisfaction. As he tucked his napkin into his shirt collar, Sairy brought in the tureen of oyster soup, and he remarked, as he took his first spoonful of the stew, that he was "hungry 'nough t' eat a graven imidge," a condition that John was able to sympathize with after his two days of fasting on crackers and such provisions as he could buy at Purse's. It was, on the whole, he reflected, the most enjoyable dinner that he ever ate. Never was such a turkey; and to see it give way under David's skillful knife--wings, drumsticks, second joints, side bones, breast--was an elevating and memorable experience. And such potatoes, mashed in cream; such boiled onions, turnips, Hubbard squash, succotash, stewed tomatoes, celery, cranberries, "currant jell!" Oh! and to "top off" with, a mince pie to die for and a pudding (new to John, but just you try it some time) of steamed Indian meal and fruit, with a sauce of cream sweetened with shaved maple sugar. "What'll you have?" said David to Mrs. Cullom, "dark meat? white meat?" "Anything," she replied meekly, "I'm not partic'ler. Most any part of a turkey 'll taste good, I guess." "All right," said David. "Don't care means a little o' both. I alwus know what to give Polly--piece o' the second jint an' the last-thing-over-the-fence. Nice 'n rich fer scraggly folks," he remarked. "How fer you, John?--little o' both, eh?" and he heaped the plate till our friend begged him to keep something for himself. "Little too much is jes' right," he asserted. When David had filled the plates and handed them along--Sairy was for bringing in and taking out; they did their own helping to vegetables and "passin'"--he hesitated a moment, and then got out of his chair and started in the direction of the kitchen door. "What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Bixbee in surprise. "Where you goin'?" "Woodshed!" said David. "Woodshed!" she exclaimed, making as if to rise and follow. "You set still," said David. "Somethin' I fergot." "What on earth?" she exclaimed, with an air of annoyance and bewilderment. "What do you want in the woodshed? Can't you set down an' let Sairy git it fer ye?" "No," he asserted with a grin. "Sairy might sqush it. It must be putty meller by this time." And out he went. "Manners!" ejaculated Mrs. Bixbee. "You'll think (to John) we're reg'ler heathin'." "I guess not," said John, smiling and much amused. Presently Sairy appeared with four tumblers which she distributed, and was followed by David bearing a bottle. He seated himself and began a struggle to unwire the same with an ice-pick. Aunt Polly leaned forward with a look of perplexed curiosity. "What you got there?" she asked.