Hiram Strong was not likely to forget that long and arduous¹ night. It was impossible to force the horse out of a walk, for the drifts were in some places to the creature's girth.  
He stopped at the house for a minute and roused Mrs. Atterson and Old Lem and sent them over to help the unhappy Dickersons.
 
He was nearly an hour getting to the crossroads store. There were lights and revelry there. Some of the lingering crowd were snowbound for the night and were making merry with hard cider and provisions which Schell was not loath² to sell them.
 
Pete was one of the number, and Hiram sent him home with the news of his mother's serious hurt.
 
He forced the horse to take him into town to Dr. Broderick. It was nearly two o'clock when he routed out the doctor, and it was four o'clock when the physician and himself, in a heavy sleigh and behind a pair of mules³, reached the Dickerson farmhouse⁴.
 
The woman had not returned to consciousness, and Mrs. Atterson remained through the day to do what she could. But it was many a tedious week before Mrs. Dickerson was on her feet again, and able to move about.
 
Meanwhile, more than one kindly⁵ act had Mother Atterson done for the neighbors who had seemed so careless of her rights. Pete never appeared when either Mrs. Atterson or Sister came to the house; but in his sour, gloomy way, Sam Dickerson seemed to be grateful.
 
Hiram kept away, as there was nothing he could do to help them. And he saw when Pete chanced to pass him, that the youth felt no more kindly toward him than he had before.
 
“Well, let him be as ugly as he wants to be—only let him keep away from the place and let our things alone,” thought Hiram. “Goodness knows! I'm not anxious to be counted among Pete Dickerson's particular friends.”
 
Thanksgiving came on apace, and every one of the old boarders of Mother Atterson had written that he would come to the farm to spend the holiday. Even Mr. Peebles acknowledged the invitation with thanks, but adding that he hoped Sister would not forget he must “eschew any viands⁶ at all greasy⁷, and that his hot water was to be at 101, exactly.”
 
“The poor ninny!” ejaculated Mother Atterson. “He doesn't know what he wants. Sister only poured it out of the teakettle, and he had to wait for it to cool, anyway, before he could drink it.”
 
But it was determined⁸ to give the city folk a good time, and this determination was accomplished⁹. Two of Sister's turkeys, bought and paid for in hard cash by Mother Atterson, graced the long table in the sitting-room¹⁰.
 
Many of the good things with which the table was laden¹¹ came from the farm. And, without Hiram............