### THE LITTLE BAXTERS GO MARKETING
#### By Tudor Jenks
Paul Baxter was too small to be head of the family. He was only seven, while his sister was five, and Paul thought she had a great deal to learn. Mrs. Baxter was the rest of the family, for the father had sailed away with the fishing fleet one foggy morning, and the fleet came back without one boat, and that boat was John Baxter’s. They all thought he was drowned, but they were wrong, as you will see. Meanwhile you must pretend you don’t know he is alive, or else you can’t understand what an unhappy time Mrs. Baxter was living through, and how much rested on Paul’s little shoulders while he considered himself the head of the family.
The worst time had not come yet, for the father had saved some money, and he had not been missing more than about two weeks. Mrs. Baxter knew that the money would soon be gone, so she was saving every cent she could.
On the day before Thanksgiving, she told Paul and his sister Kate that “until their father came home again” (for she would not speak as if he were lost), they must be very careful, and so their Thanksgiving dinner would have to be a very plain one.
“No turkey?” Kate asked.
“No, dear,” said their mother, “unless you and Paul can catch one somewhere in the street.”
They knew this was a joke, for they lived in South Street, New York City, where trucks rumbled about all day.
Paul felt he must get a turkey for a reason Mrs. Baxter didn’t know. As John Baxter was bidding Paul good-bye the night before he sailed, Paul had asked whether he would be back for Thanksgiving.
“I think so, my boy, but one can’t be sure. If I shouldn’t, you must see to the Thanksgiving dinner, and carve the turkey. Will you?”
“Yes,” said Paul, very proud, and now how could he, if there was none to carve? Paul made up his mind that it was his business to see that the family had a turkey. Paul had some money in his own small cast-iron bank. And he knew it was right for him to do what he liked with his savings. He had already offered them to his mother, and she had told him they were of no use to her. Kate, too, had some money in her bank; it was just like Paul’s except that there was a “K” on the door, made with a red pencil.
While their mother was clearing away the breakfast, Paul beckoned to Kate and proposed that they should put their money together and surprise mother with the biggest, fattest, finest bird in the market.
Kate feared the bird would cost too much.
“Nonsense, child,” said Paul, grandly; “why, I have more than seventy-five cents. How much have you?”
“Twenty-eight, I think,” said Kate.
“Well, then!” Paul answered; “that’s more’n a dollar. You can buy ’most anything for a dollar, child.”
They opened the banks, and counted the money three times, to make sure. It came out different every time, but they had about one dollar and fifteen or eighteen cents. It was all in small pieces and looked enough to buy an elephant. Paul tied it all up carefully in the corner of his handkerchief.
Then, after they had helped their mother to tidy the rooms, they got permission to go to market for her. She told them what to buy, and Paul was glad when his mother told them to get some cranberries for sauce, and a plum-pudding that came in a tin can. With their turkey, what a feast these would make!
The market was not far away, but it was so crowded that Paul and Kate had to hold hands tight. For a long time they could get no attention, but at last, by pulling one of the marketmen’s aprons, Paul made him listen. Paul bought all the things on their list, and then said, proudly:
“Please show me some of the biggest turkeys.”
The marketman, pointing to a long row, remarked:
“There they are—all weighed and marked. Pick out the one you want.”
Paul examined the tickets stuck on the turkeys—$2.20, $3.50, $2.40, $4.00 (he was a perfect giant of a gobbler!) and so on. Paul felt a lump in his throat, he was so disappointed! Then little Kate made it worse by pointing to the very biggest and saying, “Oh, Paul, buy that!—it’s the best of all!”
Paul whispered to her, “It costs four dollars. Isn’t that awful? The cheapest one is two dollars! What can we do?”
Kate shook her head. Then she had a bright idea.
“I know!” she said. “If we can’t have the biggest, let’s get the very littlest that ever was! It will be cunning, and that will make mamma laugh.”
“But I don’t see any very little ones,” Paul replied.
“Ask the man,” Kate urged.
It was some time before Paul could get the man’s attention, and then the question was put.
“The littlest turkey?” repeated the marketman, with a grin. “That’s a queer order, now. Why do you want the littlest one, my boy?”
“’Cause we’re buying it for mamma,” said Kate eagerly. “She can’t get one at all, because papa’s gone away, and he may not come back, and we got the money out of our banks, and we’ve only one dollar and fifteen cents, and we can’t have the biggest, you see.”
“Hello!” said the marketman, “here’s a talker for a little one! Haven’t I seen you before?”
“Yes, sir,” Kate answered. “I’m Katie Baxter, and I used to come with papa.”
“You Jack Baxter’s girl?” asked the marketman, stooping down and picking the child up.
“Yes, sir,” said Kate, “but please put me down.” But instead the man called to a marketman in the next stall,
“See here O’Neil, this is the Baxter girl. She’s come with another little kid to buy the littlest turkey for her mother. They’ve got the money out of their banks, and it’s a dollar fifteen. Can’t we fill the order?”
“Well, I guess we can,” said the other marketman heartily. “We’ll send them a bird—with the stuffing, too!”
“It’ll be all right,” said the first marketman, putting little Kate on her feet again. “Give me the number, and we’ll send the bird around to-morrow.”
Paul gave the number, untied the money from his handkerchief, and away they went through the noisy street home.
Paul and Kate had hard work to keep the secret of their marketing, but they did, all that day, and the next.
About four o’clock there was a knock at the door, and when the door was opened, there was nobody there. But there was something. A big, big market-basket, and in it was the giant turkey, and on the turkey’s breast a piece of paper, saying:
“From the friends of John Baxter to Mrs. Baxter and the little Baxters, hoping they’ll enjoy their Thanksgiving.”
And that wasn’t all, for the turkey, when Mrs. Baxter came to prepare it, was stuffed with silver dollars.
Then Mrs. Baxter cried; and Paul and Kate were puzzled by that. But she was thankful, for she told them so.
When the great bird was properly browned and smoking, Paul took his place ready to carve. He had just raised the knife and fork when the door opened and a big, hearty sailor came in, saying:
“Here, here, young man, this won’t do! That is my place!”
And, of course, it was John Baxter; and the turkey was not nearly so hot by the time he had been hugged and kissed (meaning John Baxter, of course), and had told how his boat had been sunk, but he and his mates picked up by a steamer.
That was a Thanksgiving dinner.
Next day John Baxter took his boy and girl down to the market, and they made another giving of thanks to the marketmen, and that is a good ending to the story, isn’t it?
There is one more thing. The marketmen would not take back their silver, and so it went into the bank—a real bank this time—for Paul and Kate.
### THE LITTLE BAXTERS GO MARKETING
#### By Tudor Jenks
Paul Baxter was too small to be head of the family. He was only seven, while his sister was five, and Paul thought she had a great deal to learn. Mrs. Baxter was the rest of the family, for the father had sailed away with the fishing fleet one foggy morning, and the fleet came back without one boat, and that boat was John Baxter’s. They all thought he was drowned, but they were wrong, as you will see. Meanwhile you must pretend you don’t know he is alive, or else you can’t understand what an unhappy time Mrs. Baxter was living through, and how much rested on Paul’s little shoulders while he considered himself the head of the family.
The worst time had not come yet, for the father had saved some money, and he had not been missing more than about two weeks. Mrs. Baxter knew that the money would soon be gone, so she was saving every cent she could.
On the day before Thanksgiving, she told Paul and his sister Kate that “until their father came home again” (for she would not speak as if he were lost), they must be very careful, and so their Thanksgiving dinner would have to be a very plain one.
“No turkey?” Kate asked.
“No, dear,” said their mother, “unless you and Paul can catch one somewhere in the street.”
They knew this was a joke, for they lived in South Street, New York City, where trucks rumbled about all day.
Paul felt he must get a turkey for a reason Mrs. Baxter didn’t know. As John Baxter was bidding Paul good-bye the night before he sailed, Paul had asked whether he would be back for Thanksgiving.
“I think so, my boy, but one can’t be sure. If I shouldn’t, you must see to the Thanksgiving dinner, and carve the turkey. Will you?”
“Yes,” said Paul, very proud, and now how could he, if there was none to carve? Paul made up his mind that it was his business to see that the family had a turkey. Paul had some money in his own small cast-iron bank. And he knew it was right for him to do what he liked with his savings. He had already offered them to his mother, and she had told him they were of no use to her. Kate, too, had some money in her bank; it was just like Paul’s except that there was a “K” on the door, made with a red pencil.
While their mother was clearing away the breakfast, Paul beckoned to Kate and proposed that they should put their money together and surprise mother with the biggest, fattest, finest bird in the market.
Kate feared the bird would cost too much.
“Nonsense, child,” said Paul, grandly; “why, I have more than seventy-five cents. How much have you?”
“Twenty-eight, I think,” said Kate.
“Well, then!” Paul answered; “that’s more’n a dollar. You can buy ’most anything for a dollar, child.”
They opened the banks, and counted the money three times, to make sure. It came out different every time, but they had about one dollar and fifteen or eighteen cents. It was all in small pieces and looked enough to buy an elephant. Paul tied it all up carefully in the corner of his handkerchief.
Then, after they had helped their mother to tidy the rooms, they got permission to go to market for her. She told them what to buy, and Paul was glad when his mother told them to get some cranberries for sauce, and a plum-pudding that came in a tin can. With their turkey, what a feast these would make!
The market was not far away, but it was so crowded that Paul and Kate had to hold hands tight. For a long time they could get no attention, but at last, by pulling one of the marketmen’s aprons, Paul made him listen. Paul bought all the things on their list, and then said, proudly:
“Please show me some of the biggest turkeys.”
The marketman, pointing to a long row, remarked:
“There they are—all weighed and marked. Pick out the one you want.”
Paul examined the tickets stuck on the turkeys—$2.20, $3.50, $2.40, $4.00 (he was a perfect giant of a gobbler!) and so on. Paul felt a lump in his throat, he was so disappointed! Then little Kate made it worse by pointing to the very biggest and saying, “Oh, Paul, buy that!—it’s the best of all!”
Paul whispered to her, “It costs four dollars. Isn’t that awful? The cheapest one is two dollars! What can we do?”
Kate shook her head. Then she had a bright idea.
“I know!” she said. “If we can’t have the biggest, let’s get the very littlest that ever was! It will be cunning, and that will make mamma laugh.”
“But I don’t see any very little ones,” Paul replied.
“Ask the man,” Kate urged.
It was some time before Paul could get the man’s attention, and then the question was put.
“The littlest turkey?” repeated the marketman, with a grin. “That’s a queer order, now. Why do you want the littlest one, my boy?”
“’Cause we’re buying it for mamma,” said Kate eagerly. “She can’t get one at all, because papa’s gone away, and he may not come back, and we got the money out of our banks, and we’ve only one dollar and fifteen cents, and we can’t have the biggest, you see.”
“Hello!” said the marketman, “here’s a talker for a little one! Haven’t I seen you before?”
“Yes, sir,” Kate answered. “I’m Katie Baxter, and I used to come with papa.”
“You Jack Baxter’s girl?” asked the marketman, stooping down and picking the child up.
“Yes, sir,” said Kate, “but please put me down.” But instead the man called to a marketman in the next stall,
“See here O’Neil, this is the Baxter girl. She’s come with another little kid to buy the littlest turkey for her mother. They’ve got the money out of their banks, and it’s a dollar fifteen. Can’t we fill the order?”
“Well, I guess we can,” said the other marketman heartily. “We’ll send them a bird—with the stuffing, too!”
“It’ll be all right,” said the first marketman, putting little Kate on her feet again. “Give me the number, and we’ll send the bird around to-morrow.”
Paul gave the number, untied the money from his handkerchief, and away they went through the noisy street home.
Paul and Kate had hard work to keep the secret of their marketing, but they did, all that day, and the next.
About four o’clock there was a knock at the door, and when the door was opened, there was nobody there. But there was something. A big, big market-basket, and in it was the giant turkey, and on the turkey’s breast a piece of paper, saying:
“From the friends of John Baxter to Mrs. Baxter and the little Baxters, hoping they’ll enjoy their Thanksgiving.”
And that wasn’t all, for the turkey, when Mrs. Baxter came to prepare it, was stuffed with silver dollars.
Then Mrs. Baxter cried; and Paul and Kate were puzzled by that. But she was thankful, for she told them so.
When the great bird was properly browned and smoking, Paul took his place ready to carve. He had just raised the knife and fork when the door opened and a big, hearty sailor came in, saying:
“Here, here, young man, this won’t do! That is my place!”
And, of course, it was John Baxter; and the turkey was not nearly so hot by the time he had been hugged and kissed (meaning John Baxter, of course), and had told how his boat had been sunk, but he and his mates picked up by a steamer.
That was a Thanksgiving dinner.
Next day John Baxter took his boy and girl down to the market, and they made another giving of thanks to the marketmen, and that is a good ending to the story, isn’t it?
There is one more thing. The marketmen would not take back their silver, and so it went into the bank—a real bank this time—for Paul and Kate.