The question of whether the Thanksgiving dinner is to be eaten at home
or whether "we're going away for Thanksgiving" has in all probability
been settled long ago. For in Green Valley Thanksgiving invitations
begin to be exchanged and sent out to distant parts as early as July.
That is, of course, if the matter of who's to go where had not already
been settled the Thanksgiving before. In some families the last rite
of each Thanksgiving feast is to discuss this question and settle it
then and there for the following year. Conservative and clannish
families who live far enough apart so that little quarrels can not be
born among them to upset this fixed yearly programme usually do this.
The greater part of Green Valley however leaves itself absolutely free
until some time in August. By that time though, the heat is so intense
that stout, collarless men in shirt sleeves, in searching about for
some relief, think gratefully of Thanksgiving and snowdrifts and ask
their wives whom they are planning to have for Thanksgiving.
"Why," may be the answer, "I hadn't thought of it yet. But I rather
think Aunt Eleanor expects us this year."
"Well," answers the husband, "all right. Only if you decide to go,
don't forget to take along some of your own pumpkin pies.
Pages:
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317