Aunt Susanna's Thanksgiving Dinner

"Aunt Susanna's Thanksgiving Dinner" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a charming short story that captures the spirit of Thanksgiving through the eyes of a young girl. The narrative revolves around a family gathering at Aunt Susanna's house, where the warmth of familial bonds, the joy of sharing stories, and the importance of gratitude are at the forefront. As the preparations for the festive meal unfold, the characters navigate humorous misunderstandings and heartfelt moments, ultimately highlighting the significance of togetherness and appreciation during the holiday season. With Montgomery's signature blend of whimsical storytelling and gentle life lessons, the tale captures the essence of Thanksgiving in a delightful and engaging way.

• Short story

								
BY L.M. MONTGOMERY

"Here's Aunt Susanna, girls," said Laura who was sitting by the north
window--nothing but north light does for Laura who is the artist of
our talented family.

Each of us has a little pet new-fledged talent which we are faithfully
cultivating in the hope that it will amount to something and soar
highly some day. But it is difficult to cultivate four talents on our
tiny income. If Laura wasn't such a good manager we never could do it.

Laura's words were a signal for Kate to hang up her violin and for me
to push my pen and portfolio out of sight. Laura had hidden her
brushes and water colors as she spoke. Only Margaret continued to bend
serenely over her Latin grammar. Aunt Susanna frowns on musical and
literary and artistic ambitions but she accords a faint approval to
Margaret's desire for an education. A college course, with a tangible
diploma at the end, and a sensible pedagogic aspiration is something
Aunt Susanna can understand when she tries hard. But she cannot
understand messing with paints, fiddling, or scribbling, and she has
only unmeasured contempt for messers, fiddlers, and scribblers. Time
was when we had paid no attention to Aunt Susanna's views on these
points; but ever since she had, on one incautious day when she was in
high good humor, dropped a pale, anemic little hint that she might
send Margaret to college if she were a good girl we had been bending
all our energies towards securing Aunt Susanna's approval. It was not
enough that Aunt Susanna should approve of Margaret; she must approve
of the whole four of us or she would not help Margaret. That is Aunt
Susanna's way. Of late we had been growing a little discouraged. Aunt
Susanna had recently read a magazine article which stated that the
higher education of women was ruining our country and that a woman who
was a B.A. couldn't, in the very nature of things, ever be a
housewifely, cookly creature. Consequently, Margaret's chances looked
a little foggy; but we hadn't quite given up hope. A very little thing
might sway Aunt Susanna one way or the other, so that we walked very
softly and tried to mingle serpents' wisdom and doves' harmlessness in
practical portions.

When Aunt Susanna came in Laura was crocheting, Kate was sewing, and I
was poring over a recipe book. That was not deception at all, since we
did all these things frequently--much more frequently, in fact, than
we painted or fiddled or wrote. But Aunt Susanna would never believe
it. Nor did she believe it now.

She threw back her lovely new sealskin cape, looked around the
sitting-room and then smiled--a truly Aunt Susannian smile.


"What a pity you forgot to wipe that smudge of paint off your nose,
Laura," she said sarcastically. "You don't seem to get on very fast
with your lace. How long is it since you began it? Over three months,
isn't it?"

"This is the third piece of the same pattern I've done in three
months, Aunt Susanna," said Laura presently. Laura is an old duck. She
never gets cross and snaps back. I do; and it's so hard not to with
Aunt Susanna sometimes. But I generally manage it for I'd do anything
for Margaret. Laura did not tell Aunt Susanna that she sold her lace
at the Women's Exchange in town and made enough to buy her new hats.
She makes enough out of her water colors to dress herself.

Aunt Susanna took a second breath and started in again.

"I notice your violin hasn't quite as much dust on it as the rest of
the things in this room, Kate. It's a pity you stopped playing just as
I came in. I don't enjoy fiddling much but I'd prefer it to seeing
anyone using a needle who isn't accustomed to it."

Kate is really a most dainty needlewoman and does all the fine sewing
in our family. She colored and said nothing--that being the highest
pitch of virtue to which our Katie, like myself, can attain.

"And there's Margaret ruining her eyes over books," went on Aunt
Susanna severely. "Will you kindly tell me, Margaret Thorne, what good
you ever expect Latin to do you?"

"Well, you see, Aunt Susanna," said Margaret gently--Magsie and Laura
are birds of a feather--"I want to be a teacher if I can manage to get
through, and I shall need Latin for that."

All the girls except me had now got their accustomed rap, but I knew
better than to hope I should escape.

"So you're reading a recipe book, Agnes? Well, that's better than
poring over a novel. I'm afraid you haven't been at it very long
though. People generally don't read recipes upside down--and besides,
you didn't quite cover up your portfolio. I see a corner of it
sticking out. Was genius burning before I came in? It's too bad if I
quenched the flame."

"A cookery book isn't such a novelty to me as you seem to think, Aunt
Susanna," I said, as meekly as it was possible for me. "Why I'm a real
good cook--'if I do say it as hadn't orter.'"

I am, too.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," said Aunt Susanna skeptically, "because
that has to do with my errand her to-day. I'm in a peck of troubles.
Firstly, Miranda Mary's mother has had to go and get sick and Miranda
Mary must go home to wait on her. Secondly, I've just had a telegram
from my sister-in-law who has been ordered west for her health, and
I'll have to leave on to-night's train to see her before she goes. I
can't get back until the noon train Thursday, and that is
Thanksgiving, and I've invited Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert to dinner that
day. They'll come on the same train. I'm dreadfully worried. There
doesn't seem to be anything I can do except get on of you girls to go
up to the Pinery Thursday morning and cook the dinner for us. Do you
think you can manage it?"

We all felt rather dismayed, and nobody volunteered with a rush. But
as I had just boasted that I could cook it was plainly my duty to step
into the breach, and I did it with fear and trembling.

"I'll go, Aunt Susanna," I said.

"And I'll help you," said Kate.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to try you," said Aunt Susanna with the air
of a woman determined to make the best of a bad business. "Here is the
key of the kitchen door. You'll find everything in the pantry, turkey
and all. The mince pies are all ready made so you'll only have to warm
them up. I want dinner sharp at twelve for the train is due at 11:50.
Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert are very particular and I do hope you will have
things right. Oh, if I could only be home myself! Why will people get
sick at such inconvenient times?"

"Don't worry, Aunt Susanna," I said comfortingly. "Kate and I will
have your Thanksgiving dinner ready for you in tiptop style."

"Well I'm sure I hope so. Don't get to mooning over a story, Agnes.
I'll lock the library up and fortunately there are no fiddles at the
Pinery. Above all, don't let any of the McGinnises in. They'll be sure
to be prowling around when I'm not home. Don't give that dog of theirs
any scraps either. That is Miranda Mary's one fault. She will feed

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