crying; and, at the sight of his Father, Pop gave a shriek.
"'Naughty, naughty!' he said, and pushed with his little hands. 'Go 'way, Daddy,—go 'way!'
"'What's the matter?' asked Mr. Fiske, very much astonished.
"'We don't want our Chusey killed—we don't want him for dinner!' sobbed the children. 'We love him so much! We don't like turkeys when they're d-e-a-d!' And again the baby broke in with, 'Go 'way, naughty! go 'way.'"
"'Well, if ever I see the beat of that!' cried the Father. 'It did seem as if that turkey was sent a-purpose, and here you are cutting up like this!'
"But the children would not listen to any objections. Chusey was their turkey, they said; they loved him, and he should not be eaten.
"'He's just as much right to Thanksgiving as we have,' asserted Zeke. 'He's "a citizen," and we mean to give him some of the pie.'
