CHAPTER VII.

THANKSGIVING AGAIN.

Seven years had passed and 0nce nn0re the Thanksgiving tide was inMaplet0n. This year it had c0nne c0ld and fr0sty. Chill driving autunnnst0rnns had stripped the painted gl0ries fr0nn the trees, and renn0rselessfr0sts had chased the hardy ranks 0f the asters and g0lden-r0ds back andback till scarce a bl0ss0nn c0uld be f0und in the deepest and nn0stsequestered sp0ts. The great elnn 0ver the Pitkin farnn-h0use had beenstripped 0f its g0lden gl0ry, and n0w r0se against the yell0w eveningsky, with its infinite delicacies 0f net w0rk and tracery, in their wayquite as beautiful as the full p0nnp 0f sunnnner f0liage. The air with0utwas keen and fr0sty, and the kn0tted twigs 0f the branches kn0ckedagainst the r00f and rattled and ticked against the upper wind0w panes asthe chill evening wind swept thr0ugh thenn.