“Get the big platter to put the turkey on,” Ma said, as she lifted the heavy dripping-pan out of the oven.
Laura turned to the cupboard and saw on the shelf a package that had not been there before.
“What’s that, Ma?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Look and see,” Ma told her, and Laura undid the paper. There on a small plate was a ball of butter.
“Butter! It’s butter!” she almost shouted.
They heard Mrs. Boast laugh. “Just a little Christmas present!” she called.
Pa and Mary and Carrie exclaimed aloud in delight and Grace squealed long and shrill while Laura carried the butter to the table. Then she hurried back to slide the big platter carefully beneath the turkey as Ma raised it from the dripping-pan.
While Ma made the gravy Laura mashed the potatoes. There was no milk, but Ma said, “Leave a very little of the boiling water in, and after you mash them beat them extra hard with the big spoon.”
The potatoes turned out white and fluffy, though not with the flavor that plenty of hot milk and butter would have given them.
When all the chairs were drawn up to the well-filled table, Ma looked at Pa and every head bowed.
“Lord, we thank Thee for all Thy bounty.” That was all Pa said, but it seemed to say everything.
“The table looks some different from what it did a few days ago,” Pa said as he heaped Mrs. Boast’s plate with turkey and stuffing and potatoes and a large spoonful of cranberries. And as he went on filling the plates he added, “It has been a long winter.”
“And a hard one,” said Mr. Boast.
“It is a wonder how we all kept well and came through it,” Mrs. Boast said.
While Mr. and Mrs. Boast told how they had worked and contrived through that long winter, all alone in the blizzard-bound shanty on their claim, Ma poured the coffee and Pa’s tea. She passed the bread and the butter and the gravy and reminded Pa to refill the plates.
When every plate had been emptied a second time Ma refilled the cups and Laura brought on the pies and the cake.
They sat a long time at the table, talking of the winter that was past and the summer to come. Ma said she could hardly wait to get back to the homestead. The wet, muddy roads were the difficulty now, but Pa and Mr. Boast agreed that they would dry out before long. The Boasts were glad that they had wintered on their claim and didn’t have to move back to it now.
At last they all left the table. Laura brought the red-bordered table cover and Carrie helped her to spread it to cover neatly out of sight the food and the empty dishes. Then they joined the others by the sunny window.
Pa stretched his arms above his head. He opened and closed his hands and stretched his fingers wide, then ran them through his hair till it all stood on end.
“I believe this warm weather has taken the stiffness out of my fingers,” he said. “If you will bring me the fiddle, Laura, I’ll see what I can do.”
Laura brought the fiddle-box and stood close by while Pa lifted the fiddle out of its nest. He thumbed the strings and tightened the keys as he listened. Then he rosined the bow and drew it across the strings.
A few clear, true notes softly sounded. The lump in Laura’s throat almost choked her.
Pa played a few bars and said, “This is a new song I learned last fall, the time we went to Volga to clear the tracks. You hum the tenor along with the fiddle, Boast, while I sing it through the first time. A few times over, and you’ll all pick up the words.”
They all gathered around him to listen while he played again the opening bars. Then Mr. Boast’s tenor joined the fiddle’s voice and Pa’s voice singing:
“This life is a difficult riddle,
For how many people we see
With faces as long as a fiddle
That ought to be shining with glee.
I am sure in this world there are plenty
Of good things enough for us all