Now the truth is, that you are very well acquainted with Bobby, for that night’s work for father and mother, and grandma, and auntie, and the doctor and himself is a fair specimen of what Bobby can do for the discomfort of the world; and the words on his lips in excuse for all sorts of heedlessnesses, and even downright disobediences, are always “I forgot.” Oh, me! What a “forgetter” has Bobby! PANSY. [Illustration: BOBBY WATCHES THE “OTHER FELLOWS.”] _Volume 15. Number 8._ Copyright, 1887, by D. LOTHROP COMPANY. _December 24, 1887._ THE PANSY. [Illustration: COCKATOO AN AUSTRALIAN CHRISTMAS.] THE OLD BRIMMER PLACE. BY MARGARET SIDNEY. CHAPTER II. [Illustration: “Y]ES, dear.” Mother Brimmer smiled and nodded, and Rosy ran off for a basket. “What are you going to do?” cried Cornelius, seeing her turn over the turkey drumsticks in the platter, when the basket, lined neatly with brown paper, was all ready and waiting on a chair. So Mother Brimmer began to explain. “Oh! now, I say that’s too bad,” cried Cornelius, “to give away a lot of things to those fellows who pitched into us in our shop, and egged me most to death, besides making me sprain my ankle. Don’t let her do it, ma,” he begged. “But Mr. Plumtree made them sorry about fighting in the shop,” said Rosy, continuing her selection of pieces, “and they had to work awfully hard at the farmer’s where he bound them out; and now they’re all so poor, I don’t suppose they’ve had the least bit of a Thanksgiving dinner.” “They don’t deserve any,” said Cornelius stoutly. Even Jack looked as if he thought Company’s sentiment wasted. “I told her she might,” said Mrs. Brimmer quietly, the guests looking on with no words to offer. “Look at her,—she’s putting in an awful lot,” shouted Cornelius, hanging over the turkey platter. “Rosy, don’t give ’em _that_.” “That” was half of an apple tart, rich and red, and juicy. “Probably the first they’ve ever tasted,” said the minister softly. Jack rubbed the toe of his boot back and forth over the polished wooden floor, Miss Clorinda gave a mild sniff of disapproval of the way things were going on, but by pinching herself, she managed to keep still; Corny alone, keeping up the other side of the argument. “It’s a perfect shame, when it’s the first time we’ve ever had a Thanksgiving,” he cried, with a red face and indignant eyes, “to pack off all those nice things to a lot of dirty, mean old Corner boys.” Mother Brimmer still kept silent. “Jack thinks so.” Corny whirled around and pointed to the senior partner triumphantly. “He knows; and you ought to do as he says, Rosy.” Company’s little right hand dropped to the side of the basket, while her round face took on a pained expression as she looked at Jack.