But it would not be exactly care or trouble that would sober Elsie
into a thoughtful woman, as our story will show.
Some of the November wind seemed in her curling hair upon this
fateful day; but her fresh young April face was a pleasant
contrast to the scene presented from the window, to which she kept
flitting with increasing frequency. It certainly was not the
dismal and darkening landscape that so intensely interested her.
The light of a great and coming pleasure was in her face, and her
manner was one of restless, eager expectancy. Little wonder. Her
pet brother, the one next older than herself, a promising young
theologue, was coming home to spend Thanksgiving. It was time he
appeared. The shriek of the locomotive had announced the arrival
of the train; and her ardent little spirit could scarcely endure
the moments intervening before she would almost concentrate
herself into a rapturous kiss and embrace of welcome, for the
favorite brother had been absent several long months.
Her mother called her away for a few moments, for the good old
lady was busy indeed, knowing well that merely full hearts would
not answer for a New England Thanksgiving.
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