We wondered what Halstead would say when he went to feed his turkey.

As we left, we heard him coming down from upstairs.

He did not join us, to help do the chores, for half an hour.

When he did appear, he looked glum; he had carried the poor victim of forced feeding out behind the west barn and buried him in the bean field--without ceremonies.
We said nothing--except now and then, as days passed, to ask him how the speckled gobbler was coming on.

Halstead would look hard at us, but vouchsafed no replies.
The judge's turkey was sent to Portland on November 15; at that period each state appointed its own Thanksgiving Day, and in Maine the 17th had been set.