We are first introduced to an old-fashioned New England kitchen and dining-room combined, where a few simple country folks have gathered to give their thanks to God for all the blessings that have been bestowed upon them. Our interest is centered mostly around the mother of the household and her son, who are plain, simple New England folks. The son soon longs for a broader field for his ambition than the country village can give, and so, one day, starts for the city. Eight years glide by and the simple farm boy has grown to manhood, and success has reached him from every side, while away back in New England we see that the little mother is just the same, a little older, a little grayer. A feverish anxiety is in her movements as she takes a big, old-fashioned pie from the oven. It is for her boy. He is coming home to spend Thanksgiving with her for the first time in ten years. A knock is heard at the door and the rural postmaster hands the dear old lady a letter. It is from her son. She tears open the letter. The smile fades from her lips. A check drops from the letter unheeded, for in that letter is a heartache; her boy is not coming home on Thanksgiving Day. As she takes his picture from the worn old album and looks at it sadly part of the room fades, and we see the boy and the other woman, who loves him too. A moment of suspense, eyes that look into eyes, a catch of the breath, and as he clasps his sweetheart in his arms and presses the first long kiss of love upon her lips, we see the dear old mother sadly kissing the picture of her boy. New England is a long way from the great city where her boy lives, but she decides to go to him on Thanksgiving Day and surprise him. As she enters his house she does not know that a Thanksgiving dinner party is to be held, that her boy's sweetheart will be there in all her grandeur, that each guest will be dressed in the height of fashion. She does not realize that her old, worn-out clothes of the country will be out of place in these surroundings. She only knows that she is going to see her boy; but the sad awakening comes when she finds herself upstairs in a neatly furnished room and the butler placing a tray of food before her. Her boy is ashamed of her, and she is to eat her Thanksgiving dinner alone. What would his sweetheart, a lady of fashion, think of her, his mother, if she saw her in this old-fashioned attire? What? Wait and you shall see. A knock at the door. A fair young girl enters, a rustle of silk and satins. "Ah, I beg your pardon, but I thought this is where the butler said I was to remove my cloak." She sees a huge, old-fashioned pie on the dresser, a note beside it, and the words "my boy" and "your mother" catch her eye. There is a cry of joy, and the dear old lady is locked close in soft young arms. That's what she thinks of his mother. She is his mother; that's all she cares to know. Amid sobs and smiles the girl learns the truth, and one can imagine the shame upon the boy's face when he enters the room a few moments later and finds mother and sweetheart gaily eating their Thanksgiving dinner together. Soon all is forgiven and forgotten, and this sweet, simple story closes with the dear old lady saying thanksgiving at the head of her son's table.