big mouthed for a candle and folks are going to use coal oil more and more, anyhow. I can be off tomorrow."
" Tomorrow's. Thanksgiving, Jason."
"I'll be glad to forget it," grumbled Jason. "What have we to be thankful for?" His mother looked at him a little curiously, but she said nothing. Jason caught the expression in her eyes. "Don't look at me that way, mother," he burst forth angrily, "I can't forgive father, with his big brain and body for doing so little for you and me. I can't forgive him for what he dragged us through those donation par ties! He had no right to put me through what he did that year at High Hill. And what did he get out of his life? They lay him away with the remark that he had a gift of prayer! And his widow may starve, for all of them."
"Jason, be silent," cried his mother. She had risen and stood facing him, her face deathly white. "Not one word against your
