CHAPTER VTopCONCERNING PEPPERMINTS
Mary Sands stood in the doorway, leaning on her broom and looking out over the pleasant autumn country. It was a golden morning, and the world shone and sparkled in quite a wonderful way.
The green dooryard had its special show of emeralds, set off here and there by a tuft of dandelion that had escaped the watchful eye of Mr. Sam. The stone wall of the barnyard was almost hidden by the hollyhocks; they were a pretty sight, Mary thought; she did admire hollyhocks.
The vast dog, who had been lying on the door-step, rose slowly, shook himself elaborately, pricked his ears, and looked down the road.
"What is it, Rover?" asked MarySands. "Do you feel good this mornin', same as I do? What you lookin' at? Somebody comin' along the road? So there is! It can't be Cousin Sam back again; he hasn't been gone but an hour. Why—can it—it surely is Mr. Parks!"
Involuntarily her hand went up to the smooth ripples of her brown hair; unconsciously she glanced down at her fresh print dress and blue apron.
"I wish't I'd had me a white apron!" she said. "But there! he'll have to take me as he finds me. Workin' time ain't perkin' time, as Gran'm'ther used to say. Good mornin', Mr. Parks! isn't this a pretty day?"
"Good mornin' to you, Miss Hands!" said Calvin Parks as he drove up to the door. "It is a pretty day, and everything to match, far as I can see. And the prettiest thing I've seen this mornin' is you," he added, but not aloud.
"I was lookin' at them hollyhocks," said Mary. "See 'em down by the wall yonder? Ain't they handsome? Them pink and white ones look to me like girls, slim young ones all ready to bob a curtsey. I don't know but you'll think it foolish, but I'm always seein' likenesses between flowers and folks."
"Be you?" said Calvin. "That's a pretty idee now. I believe women folks have pretty idees right along; it must be real agreeable. Now when I see a hollyhock there ain't nothin' to it but hollyhock—except the cheese!" he added meditatively. "I used to think a sight of hollyhock cheese when I was a youngster."
"So did I!" cried Mary with her tinkling laugh. "But aren't you comin' in, Mr. Parks? Do light down! Cousin Sam's gone to market, but Cousin Sim'll be real pleased to see you. He's been feelin' slim for two or three days."
"That so?" said Calvin. "Well, Ididn't know as I should stop, more'n just to pass the time o' day, but if he's feelin' slim—" he threw the reins on the horse's neck and clambered out of the wagon.
"Hossy'll be glad to rest a spell, won't you, hossy?"
"He looks real clever!" said Mary. "I should think he'd be pleasant to ride behind."
"You try it some day and see!" said Calvin. "He's the cleverest horse on the ro'd, and the cutest. What do you think he did yesterday? Now I don't know as you'll believe me when I tell you, but it's a fact. I was in at the store down at the Corners, havin' some truck with Si Turner, and there come along a boy as wasn't any more honest than he had to be, and he thought 'twould be smart to reach in over the wheel and help himself to candy out of the drawers. Well, mebbe 'twas smart; but hossy was smarter, for he reached roundhis head and c'ot him by the seat of his pants—Jerusalem! if you'll excuse the expression, Miss Hands, how that feller did holler! Me and Si come hikin' out, thought he was killed and got the hives besides; when we see what was up, we sot down and laughed till, honest, we had to lean against one another or we'd rolled over an' over on the ground. Hossy held on like a good 'un till I told him to let go, and then he dropped the pants and went to work eatin' grass as if nothin' had been goin' on at all."
"Did you ever?" cried Mary Sands. "I never knew a hoss could have that much sense, Mr. Parks. Why, 'twas like a person more than a dumb critter."
"There's critters and critters!" said Calvin Parks. "Hossy's a prize package, that's a fact. Want a bite, hossy? tain't dinner time yet, but a bite won't hurt you."
He took a nose-bag from the wagon andhung it over the brown horse's head. The horse, who had gone to sleep as soon as he stopped, opened one eye, blinked at his master, and shut it again.
"Oh, all right!" said Calvin. "Any time; suit yourself! Only I can't wag your jaws for ye, ye know."
Mary had turned to enter the house, saying something about telling Cousin he was coming.
"Oh! wait just a minute, Miss Hands!" Calvin called. "I took the liberty—" he rummaged among his drawers, and finally brought out a small parcel.
"I dono—most prob'ly it ain't just what you'd like. I couldn't tell what flavor you'd prefer, and I always think myself that pep'mint is the wholesomest—"
Amazed and embarrassed at finding himself embarrassed, Calvin paused awkwardly, holding the box of peppermints in his hand; but when he saw Mary Sands blushingin the delightful red and brown way she had, and caught the twinkle in her eye, he was suddenly at ease again.
"You try 'em!" he said simply, and gave her the box.
"Why, Mr. Parks!" cried Mary. "You don't mean to say you brought these for me? Well, you are more than kind, I must say. Why, they're deleecious! There's nothing like pep'mint to my taste; now this is surely a treat. I'm a thousand times obliged to you, Mr. Parks. These don't taste like boughten candy; there's a real kind of home-made flavor to 'em."
"That's right!" said Calvin. "That's just it; they are home-made. Them pep'mints is made by an old gentleman in East Cyrus. I lighted on 'em by accident, as you might say, and 'twas a good job I did."
"How was that?" Mary inquired civilly.
"Why, I ain't greatly acquainted in these parts, you know, Miss Hands; been awayso much, you understand, and never was one to go much when I was to home, only amongst the near neighbors. I dono as ever I was in East Cyrus before. 'Tis a pleasant-lookin' place. Nice street; not many stores, but what there was was ship-shape and Bristol fashion; folks personable and well-appearin'; I was pleased with East Cyrus. I druv along kind o' slow, lookin' for my kind of a place; sure enough, I come to a little store with candy in the window. Hossy saw it too, and stopped of his own accord.
"'That so?' says I. 'Friend of yours, hossy?' He nods his head real sociable, hossy doos, and I was just goin' to ramble down out of that squirrel-cage, when the door opens kind o' smart, and someone hollers out, 'I don't want any! You can go right along!'
"'Can!' says I. 'Now that's real accommodatin' of you. Anywheres specialyou'd like me to go? That's what I come to inquire about,' I says.
"He was a little man, kind o' dried up, but yet smart-lookin', and hewassmart. He looks at hossy. 'You can go to Thunder!' he says.
"'First turn to the right, or second to the left?' says I. Then he looks at me. 'Hello!' he says; 'it ain't you!'
"'No,' I says; 'it ain't. It's my half-uncle's widder from out west,' I says.
"He kind o' laughed. 'What are you doin' with his hoss, then?' says he.
"'I bought it off'n him,' says I; 'it's my hoss now, and my team. Like to know how many teeth we've got between us?'
"'Well, all the same I don't want any!' he says; and he starts to go back into the store.
"'Excuseme!' I says, as polite as I knew how. 'Would you have any objections to namin' over the things you don'twant? I didn't know as I'd offered you anything, but mebbe I done it in my sleep.'
"'Glucose is one thing,' he says. 'Terry alba, coal-tar, plaster-of-Paris; them's some of the things I don't want. And you're another. Is that enough?'
"'Not quite I says. 'Go slow, shipmate! If you wanted them things the wust way in the world you couldn't get 'em off'n me, 'cause I ain't got 'em."
"He grunted. 'Tell that to the monkey!' he says.
"'I am,' I says, 'or the nearest I can see to one.'
"'He always had 'em he says,'and tried to sell 'em to me every time he come by.'
"'I know!' says I. 'I found 'em in the stock, and I sot 'em on the fire and seen 'em burn. Gitty up, hossy!' I says. 'We'll go on and see if there's any place in this village where they keep manners,'I says, 'and we'll send this old gentleman a half a pound to stock up with!' I says.
"'Hold on!' he says. 'I spoke too quick. Come in and we'll talk.'
"So I went. Had half a mind not to, but 'twan't the sensible half. I tell you, I had a real pleasant time, Miss Hands. Come to get him smoothed down and combed out, and he was as pleasant an old gentleman as ever I see. But he was an old-fashioned candy-maker, you see, and he didn't like these new-fangled ways any more than what I do. Never had a pound of glucose on his premises, nor never will; nothin' but pure sugar. We had a real good time together; and he gave me them pep'mints, and I'm goin' to have 'em reg'lar every week. He's got a little kitchen in back there that's a perfect pictur' to look at. I'd like to have you see it, Miss Hands, honest I would."
At this moment a loud and peevish crow was heard from the house.
"There!" said Mary Sands. "We must be goin' in, Mr. Parks. Cousin's gettin' impatient, I expect."
They found Mr. Sim fairly spluttering with impatience.
"What—what—what—" he began as they entered; "I didn't know as you was ever comin', Cousin. I'd oughter have had my med'cine—that you, Cal?—half an hour ago; set down, won't you? half a glass, with sugar and hot water! pretty well, be ye? I'm most choked to death, settin' here waitin'."
"There, Cousin!" said Mary Sands in her mellow, soothing voice. "I'll get you the medicine right away; though if the truth was told I expect you'd be better off without it. I don't hold with all this dosin', do you, Mr. Parks?"
"I do not!" said Calvin Parks. "Looksto me as if all the doses he'd been takin' for a week was havin' it out inside him, and no two agreein'. Say, Sim! s'pose you let Miss Hands throw away all that stuff, and take a pep'mint instead."
CHAPTER VITopBOARD AND LODGING
"Take a seat, Mr. Parks!" said Mary Sands, hospitably. "Talk of angels! Cousins and I were just speakin' of you, and sayin' you never told us the rest of that nice story you began the first time you was here."
"What story?" asked Calvin Parks.
"Why, your own story, to be sure. You told us how you was displeased at a woman's bein' owner of your schooner,—" her eyes twinkled mischievously,—"and how you come ashore and set up your candy route; but Cousins were just sayin' they didn't know where you lived, nor how you was fixed anyways, except that you had that nice hoss and waggin."
"That so?" said Calvin, musing. "Well,I don't know as there's any particklar story to the rest on't. I drive my route, you know; quite a ways it is; takes me about a week to git round it all. 'Tis pleasant doin's for the most part, only when it comes to gettin' in and out of this shay; that gits me every time. But I see the country, you know—pretty country it is; I never see a prettier,—and meet up with folks and all,—"
"Where do you reside?" inquired Mr. Sam. He had moved his chair near the door of Mr. Sim's sitting-room, where Calvin was, and now peered round the doorjamb, his body invisible, his little wizen face appearing as if hung in air.
"Great snakes, Sam!" exclaimed Calvin Parks. "Don't scare the life out of us. Where's the rest of you? No use your pretendin' to be one of them cherub articles, 'cause you don't look it, and don't let anyone deceive you into thinkin' you do. I live—ifyou call it livin',—down Tinkham way, about ten miles from here. I'm boardin' with Widder Marlin and her daughter. Ever hear of Phrony Marlin? Well, she's a case, Phrony is, and the old lady's another. Widder of a sea-cap'n that I sailed with in former days. She has a little home, and she lets me have a room. I don't know as the old lady is quite right in her mind—I don't know as either one of 'em is, come to think of it; and she ain't much of a cook; but as she says, it's only suppers and breakfasts, and it's all dust and ashes anyway. It ain't worth while to make trouble, and I git on first-rate."
"I'm afraid they don't make you real comfortable, Mr. Parks!" said Mary Sands. "I should think they might; I don't believe but what you do your part and more too."
"Well, I dono!" said Calvin simply. "I try to help out, split the wood, kerry water and like that; two lone women, yeknow, no man belongin' to 'em; I wouldn't wish to let 'em feel forsaken any."
"Do they give you enough to eat?" inquired Mr. Sim.
"Oh, I guess so. They don't feed me any too high, but they don't live any higher themselves. Phrony has the dyspepsy—I dono as it's surprisin' that she should—and the old lady has an idee that eatin' is a snare of the evil one, and she gits along on next door after nothin', as you may say."
"The idea!" cried Mary Sands, indignantly. "Mr. Parks, why do you stay there? I wouldn't if I was you, not another day."
"Oh! they don't mean no harm," said Calvin; "not a mite. I git on first-rate so long as they do; it's only when they get to quarrellin' that I mind. When they fall afoul of each other, it ain't real agreeable; but there's where it comes in handy bein'a man. Hossy and me can git out from under foot most times, and leave 'em to train by themselves."
He paused, and shook his head with a reminiscent chuckle.
"Last week we had us quite a time!" he said. "Phrony got some kind of a bee in her bunnet—I dono what it was! seemed to have a kind of idee that she was goin' to git married, if only she had some money. I never see no man round the house, nor yet heard none speak of her; and, too, if she'd looked in the glass she'd have seen 'twarn't real reasonable to expect it. However it was, so it was; she's got her eye on somebody, no question about that. Well, it's a small farm, and the soil ain't any too rich; they git along, but no more than, I expect; and yet they don't spend a cent more'n they have to, you may resk your eye-teeth on that. Well, anyways, here's what happened. I come in one night, andthe old lady was sittin' studyin' over a letter or like that. When she saw me, 'Cap'n,' she says (always calls me Cap'n, same as she did the old man), 'will you cast your eye over that,' she says, 'and tell me what you think of it?'
"I looked it over, and you may call me a horn-pout, Miss Hands and boys, if 'twarn't a bill from Phrony, drawed up in reg'lar style, chargin' her mother three dollars a week wages for thirty years. Now, Miss Hands, I'd like to know what you think of that."
"I think 'twas scandalous!" cried Mary Sands, emphatically. "I think she ought to be ashamed of herself. The idea!"
"Well, it didn't seem to me real suitable," said Calvin; "I couldn'tmakeit seem so, and so I said. 'What's got into her?' I said. 'You and her belong together; and what's one's is 'tother's, ain't it, so far as livin' goes?'
"The old lady looks at me kind o' queer. 'Phrony ain't satisfied,' she says. 'She thinks the Lord designs her to be a helpmeet, and that He's manifestin' Himself at present, or liable so to do.'
"Well, I studied over that a bit, but I didn't make nothin' out of it. The old lady has spells, as I told you, when she ain't just right in her head. Makes me laugh sometimes, the things she'll say. Take last night, now! I didn't have no fork, and I asked her to please give me one. Honest, if she didn't take and bring me a spoon! 'There, Cap'n!' she says. 'It don't look like a fork,' she says, 'but I dono what's the matter with it. The Lord'll provide!' she says. 'It's all dust and ashes!' Other days, she'll be as wide awake as the next one, and talk straight as a string. Well, about the bill! I told her she'd better let it go, and Phrony'd come round and see she wa'n't actin' real sensible,nor yet pretty. But not she! Next mornin' before I left she come out to the barn and showed me another paper, and—Jerusalem crickets! if it warn't a bill against Phrony for board and lodgin' for forty-seven years! Haw! haw! That's where the old lady come out on top. There warn't no bee inherbunnet that time!"
"He! he!" cackled Mr. Sim.
"Ho! ho!" piped Mr. Sam.
But Mary Sands looked troubled. "Mr. Parks," she said; "you'll excuse me, as am little more than a stranger to you; but yet I can't help but say I do wish you was in a different kind of place. There must be lots of nice places where you would be more than welcome."
"Mebbe so, and mebbe son't!" said Calvin Parks placidly. "Folks is real friendly, all along the route. Yes, come to think of it, there's several has said theywould be pleased to take me in for a spell, if I should be thinkin' of a change. But old Widder Marlin, she needs the board money, and—well, here's where it is, Miss Hands; I don't know as she'd be real likely to get another boarder. I knew the Cap'n, you see, and he was always good to me aboard ship. But I'm full as much obliged to you," he added, with a very friendly look in his brown eyes, "for givin' it a thought. Bless your heart, this old carcass don't need much attention; it gets all it deserves, I presume likely, and more too.
"Well, I must be ramblin' along, I guess. I promised to pick up Miss Phrony at the Corners. She's been visitin' there to-day, and she'll think I'm lost for good. I tell you what it is, though, Miss Hands and boys; it's easier to turn in at this gate than what it is to turn out again, and I expect I shall be comin' in real often, if no objection is made."
"So do, Calvin! so do!" cried bothtwins together. Calvin looked at Mary Sands, and her eyes were as friendly as his own. "The oftener you come, Mr. Parks," she said, "the better I shall be pleased, for certin."
"Gitty up, hossy!" said Calvin. "We're late for supper now, and it don't do for me to get too sharp-set; there ain't likely to be more supper than what I can get away with. There's the store now, and there's Miss Phrony, sure enough, lookin' out for me. Now I put it to you, hossy; what was the object, precisely, of makin' a woman look like that? The ways is mysterious, sure enough. There's a plenty of material there for a good-lookin' woman, take and spread it kind o' different."
A tall, scraggy woman, with pale green eyes seeking each other across a formidable beak, and teeth like a twisted balustrade,greeted him with a reproachful look as he drove up to the corner store.
"Good afternoon, Miss Phrony," he said comfortably. "I expect I'm just a mite late, ain't I?"
"I should think you was!" replied the scraggy woman. "I've been waitin' full two hours, Cap'n Parks."
"Have!" said Calvin affably. "Now ain't that a sight! But it's a good thing you had such pleasant company to wait in; I'm glad of that. How do, Si? how do, Eph?" he nodded to two men who were leaning against the door-posts, chewing straws and observing the universe. "Any trade doin' with little Calvin to-day?"
"Nothin' only a box of wintergreen lozenges, I guess," said Si, the storekeeper. "Mebbe you might leave another box of broken," he added, after a glance in at his showcase. "Trade hasn't been real smart this week. You ain't goin' to chargeme full price for them goods, are you, Cal?"
"If I took off anything," replied Calvin, "'twould be because you were so handsome, and that wouldn't be real good for your disposition, so I expect I shall have to deny myself the pleasure. Three dollars and ninety cents—thank you, sir! Now, Miss Phrony, if you're ready—these your bundles? Why, you've been buyin' out the store, I expect! Let me help you in; up she comes! So long, boys!"
"Think she'll get him?" said Si to Eph, as they watched the wagon disappearing down the road.
"I—don't—know!" replied Si slowly. "Sometimes I think he's as simple as he is appearin', and then again I have my doubts. But one thing's sure; she's goin' to do her darndest towards it!"
CHAPTER VIITopMATCH-MAKING
"Cal!" said Mr. Sim.
"Wall!" said Calvin Parks. "That's poetry, Sim, or as nigh to it as you and me are likely to come."
"Quit foolin', Cal! I want to speak to you serious."
"Fire away!" said Calvin, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs.
"I want to know what you think of Cousin!" Mr. Sim went on.
Calvin sat up, and drew in his legs.
"She's all right!" he said shortly.
"Of course she's all right!" said Mr. Sim peevishly. "She wouldn't be here if she was all wrong, would she? I want to know what youthinkof her."
"I think she's a fine-appearin' woman!"said Calvin slowly. "And smart. And personable. A 1, clipper-built and copper-fastened, is the way I should describe your cousin if she was a vessel."
"You're right, Cal; you're right!" said Mr. Sim. "She's all that and more. She's agreeable, and she's capable, and she's savin', Calvin; savin'. Ma allers said, 'If the time comes when youhaveto marry, marry a saver!' she'd say."
Calvin said nothing. He felt the honest middle-aged blood mounting in his cheeks, but reflected comfortably that it would not show through the brown.
"Now, Cal," Mr. Sim went on; "a woman like that ain't goin' through life single."
"You bet she ain't!" said Calvin briefly; "you darned old weasel!" he added, but not aloud.
"She ain't no more than forty, and she don't look that. She's well fixed, too; sheain't no need to work, Cousin ain't; she come here to accommodate, you understand."
"I understand!" said Calvin; "you blamed old ferret!" Calvin was fond of finishing his sentences in silence.
"Now what I say is,—" and Mr. Sim leaned forward, and sank his voice to a whisper,—"What I say is, that woman ought not to go out of the family, Calvin Parks!"
Calvin grunted. A grunt may mean anything, and Mr. Sim took it for assent.
"Jes' so! That's what I'm sayin'. I knew you'd see it that way. Now, Calvin, I want you to help us."
A spark came into Calvin's brown eyes. "Help you!" he repeated. "What's the matter? Ain't you old enough to speak for yourself?"
"Not for myself, Calvin!" cried Mr. Sim. "No, no, no! for Sam'l! for Sam'l!"
"Well, I am blowed!" said Calvin Parks.
Mr. Sim leaned forward anxiously. "Don't you see, Cal?" he cried. "I ain't a marryin' man; that's plain to be seen. Sam'l was allers the one for the gals, you know he was. You remember Ivy Bell?"
Calvin nodded.
"Well, that's the way of it!" Mr. Sim continued. "His mind allers run that way; mine didn't. Besides, I ain't a well man; I ain't in no shape to marry, Calvin, no way in the world, if I wanted to, and I don't. Now, Calvin, I want you to kind of urge Sam'l on. We ain't speakin', Sam'l and me, you know that. I told you how 'twas, fust time you come round. Nothin' agin one another, only we don't like. So I can't urge him myself; and fust thing we know some outlandishman or other'll step in and kerry her off, and then where should we be, Sam'l and me? I ask you that, Calvin Parks. We're gettin' on,you know, Cal; we're five years good older than what you be, and we couldn't abide hired help, no way in the world. You urge Sam'l on to speak to Cousin, won't you now? I'd take it real friendly of you, Cal. I allers thought a sight of you, and so did Ma. 'Twould please Ma if you got a good woman for Sam'l, Cal. Say you'll think about it!"
"I'll think about it!" said Calvin Parks.
An hour later, Calvin was out in the barnyard, leaning over the pigsty, and looking at the finest hogs in the county. Mr. Sam pronounced them so, and he ought to know, Calvin thought. Calvin had never cared for hogs himself.
"You see them hawgs," said Mr. Sam with squeaking enthusiasm, "and you see the best there is. Take 'em for looks, or heft, or eatin', there's no hawgs can touch 'em in this county. I'll go further and sayState. They're alovelyhawg, sir! that's what they are; lovely!"
"All black, be they?" asked Calvin, for the sake of saying something.
"All black!" said Mr. Sam. "I bought 'em off'n Reuben Hutch. They was Cousin's choice in the fust place. She likes 'em black; says they look cleaner, and I guess they do. I don't know as you've remarked it, Cal, but I think a sight of Cousin."
He cast a sly glance at Calvin, who again returned inward thanks for the solid brown of his cheeks.
"I should s'pose you might!" he said shortly.
"A sight!" repeated Mr. Sam emphatically. "You show me a smarter woman than that, Calvin Parks, and I'll show you a toad with three tails."
He paused, as if waiting for Calvin to avail himself of this handsome offer.
"Well!" said Calvin, rather morosely. "I ain't got no smarter woman to show. What are you drivin' at, Sam Sill?"
Mr. Sam's little eyes were twinkling, and his sharp features were twisting themselves into knots which were anything but becoming.
"Calvin," he said, "when I look at that young woman—at least not exactly young, but a sight younger than some, and all the better for it—what word do you think I use to myself?"
"I don't know!" said Calvin shortly.
Mr. Sam leaned back, and expanded his red flannel waistcoat.
"Take time, Cal!" he said kindly. "Find a good solid-soundin' word suitable to the occasion, and spit it out!"
"Look at here!" said Calvin, still more shortly. "I come out here to see your hogs, and I've seen 'em. I didn't come out to play guessin' games; if you've got anythingto say to me, say it! If not, I'm goin' home."
Mr. Sam leaned forward, and poked Calvin in the ribs with a skinny forefinger.
"Matrimony's the word, Cal!" he said. "Holy matrimony! Ain't that a good word? ain't it suitable? ain't it what you might call providential? ain't it? hey?" He paused for a reply; but none coming, he went on.
"I made use of that word, Calvin, the fust time Cousin stepped across our thrishhold, four months back; and I've ben makin' use of it every day since then. Now, Cal, I want you to help me!"
"Help you!" repeated Calvin, mechanically.
"Help me!" repeated Mr. Sam. "If you can help me to bring about matrimony between Cousin and Simeon,—"
"What!" said Calvin Parks.
Mr. Sam stared. "Between Cousin andSimeon!" he repeated. "What did you think I said? You could be of assistance to me, Calvin. You know Sim and me ain't havin' any dealin's jest at present, and direckly you come along I says to myself, 'Calvin,' I says, 'is the one who can be of assistance to me.'"
"I thought 'twas you was goin' to marry her!" said Calvin grimly.
"Me, Cal? no! no! What put that into your head?" and Mr. Sam screwed his features afresh, and shook his head emphatically. "I admire Cousin, none more so; but if I was marryin',—and I don't say but I shall, some day,—I should look out for something jest a mite more stylish. But there's plenty of time, plenty of time. Besides, I want to travel, Calvin. I want to see something of the world. Here I've sot all my days, and never ben further than Bangor. Ma never held with the notion of folks goin' out of the State of Maine. 'Iffolks want to go to Massachusetts,' she'd say, 'they'd orter be born there.' Now, no disrespect to Ma, you understand, Cal, but that ain't my idee. I want to go to Boston, and maybe New York. I dono but I might go out west and locate there. But there's the farm, you see, Cal, and there's Simeon. Sim ain't a man that's fit to travel, nor yet he ain't able to see to things as should be. But if he and Cousin was man and wife, don't you see, the two of 'em could get on fust-rate, and I could go off. You see how 'tis, Calvin, don't you?"
Calvin Parks turned upon him with a flash.
"What makes you think she'd be seen dead with either one of you two squinny old lobsters?" he asked fiercely.
Mr. Sam stared again.
"A woman, Calvin, wants a home!" he said solemnly. "Anybody can see that. Cousin has money in the bank, andshe's owner of a schooner, but she has no home. I expect she'd have married Reuben if he'd been anyways agreeabletomarry. He expected she would, sure as shootin'; lotted on it, they say. But take a man with one eye and that rollin', and snug,anda bad disposition, why, it ain't no great of an outlook for a woman, even if the farm was better than it is. Anyways, she wouldn't look at him, and that's how she come here. Now here,"—he waved his hand in a circle. "Look around you, Calvin Parks! Where is she goin' to find a home like this? for stock, or for truck, or for sightliness, there ain't its ekal in the county. There ain't its ekal in the State. Now, Cal, I'm a fair-minded man. A woman brought this farm up to what it is. Ma done it, sir! I don't say but Sim and me done our best since we growed up, but Ma done the heft on't, and it needs a woman now. It needs a woman, Calvin,and Cousin needs a home; and I'm of the opinion that she won't get such a bad bargain, even with Simeon thrown in. There's no harm in Simeon, Cal, not a mite!"
"Not a mite!" Calvin echoed mechanically.
"Now,"—Mr. Sam drew himself up, and tapped Calvin on the shoulder. "I want you to help me, Calvin Parks!"
Calvin growled, but a growl may mean anything. Mr. Sam took it for assent.
"That's right!" he said. "That's it, Calvin. You talk to Cousin, and tell her about the farm, and kinder throw in a word for Sim now and then. Why, he's a real good fellow, Sim is, when he ain't a darned fool. They'd get on fust-rate. And you talk to him, too, when she's out of the way! Tell him he needs a woman of his own, and like that. Mebbe you might drop a hint about my goin' away, if you see a goodopenin'; why, you're jest the one to make a match, with your pleasant ways, kind o' jokin' and cheerful. Make her feel as if she wanted a man of her own, too. Think about it, Cal! Say you'll think about it!"
"I'll think about it!" said Calvin Parks.
CHAPTER VIIITop"PLAYING S'POSE"
Calvin did think about it. He thought about it as he drove out of the yard, and it was a grave salute that he waved to Mary Sands, smiling on the door-step in her blue dress, with the low sun glinting on her nut-brown hair.
He thought about it on the road; and hossy missed the usual fire of cheery remarks, grew morose, and jogged on half asleep. He was still thinking about it, when he came to a narrow lane that branched off from the main road, some half a mile from the Sill farm. It was a pretty lane, but it had a deserted look, and there were no wheel-marks on its grass and clover. Coming abreast of this opening, Calvin checked the brown horse with a word, andsat for some time looking thoughtfully down the lane. It ended, a few hundred yards away, in an open gateway; there was no gate. Beyond stood some huge old maple trees, which might hide anything—or nothing.
"Want to go in, hossy?" asked Calvin. He flicked hossy on the ear, but his tone was not the usual one of friendly banter. Hossy shook his head.
"Might as well!" said Calvin. "I've kep' away so fur, but it's there, you know, hossy, all the same. Gitty up!"
Thus urged, the brown horse jogged slowly up the grassy lane, snatching now and then at the tall grass as he went. Passing through the empty gateway, they came to the maple trees, and saw—only one of them knew before—what they hid. A yawning hole in the ground; at one side of it a well, its covering dropping to pieces, its sweep fallen on the ground;behind, a tangle of bushes that might once have been a garden. In front, almost on the edge of the hole, some long blocks of granite lay piled one atop of the other; these had been the door-steps, when there was a door.
Calvin Parks sat silent for a long time looking at these things. Then,—"Hossy," he said, "look at there!"
Hossy looked; saw little that appealed to him, and fell to cropping the grass.
"What did I tell you?" said Calvin, addressing some person unseen. "Even the dumb animal won't look at it. Hossy, what do you think of this place, take it as a place? Speak up now!"
Hossy, flicked on the ear, shook himself fretfully, whinnied, and returned to his cropping.
"Nice home to offer a woman?" said Calvin. "Cheerful sort of habitation? Hey? Well, there! you see how 'tis yourself.A rolling—stone—gathers—no—moss, little hossy."
As he spoke he was climbing down from his perch; now he threw the reins over the brown horse's neck, and walking to the edge of the empty cellar-place, sat down on one of the granite blocks.
"But I want you to understand that I warn't born rollin'!" he continued with some severity. "If you think that, hossy, you show your ignorance. I was a stiddy boy, and a good boy, as boys go. Mother never made no complaint, fur as I know. Poor mother! if I'm glad of anything in this mortal world, it's that mother went before the house did. That old lobster was right, darn his hide! a woman has to have a home. Poor mother! She thought a sight of her home and her gardin. I can't but scarcely feel she must be round somewheres, now; pickin' gooseberries, most likely. Sho! gooseberries in October! well,butternuts, then! The old butternut tree warn't burned. Hossy, I tell you, it seems as though if I was to turn round this minute I should expect to see mother's white apurn—"
He turned as he spoke, and stopped short. Something white glinted behind the withered bushes of the garden plot.
Calvin Parks sat motionless for a moment, gazing with wide eyes. A cold finger traced his spine, and his heart thumped loud in his ears. The something white seemed to move—a swaying motion; and now a soft voice began to croon, half speaking, half singing.
"I'd—I'd like to know what you are scairt of!" said Calvin Parks, addressing himself. "You might put a name to it. It would be just like mother, wouldn't it, to come back if it was anyways convenient, and see to them butternuts? Well, then! You wouldn't be scairt of mother, wouldyou? I've no patience with you. The dumb critter there has more spunk than what you have."
The brown horse had raised his head, and his ears were pointed toward the something white that glinted through the bushes.
Another instant, and Calvin rose, and casting a scared look at the brown horse, made his way with faltering steps round the cellar-hole and put aside the bushes.
A small girl in a white pinafore cowered like a rabbit under a straggling rose-bush, and looked up at him with wide eyes of terror. Calvin's eyes, which had been no less wide, softened into a friendly twinkle.
"How de do?" he said. "Pleased to meet you!"
The child drew a long, sobbing breath. "I thought you was ghosts!" she said.
"So I thought you was!" said Calvin. "But we ain't, neither one on us; nor yethossy ain't. See hossy there? you never heard of a ghost hossy, did you now?"
The child's face brightened as she looked at the brown horse, stolidly cropping his clover. The tucked-in corners of her mouth looked as if a smile were trying to come out, but was not allowed.
"And what was you doin' here all by your lonesome?" asked Calvin.
"I was playin' s'pose," said the child soberly.
"I want to know!" said Calvin. "How do you play it?"
The child inspected him critically for a moment; then the smile fairly broke loose, and twinkled all over her face.
"I'll show you!" she said; and with a pretty gesture she patted the dry grass beside her. Calvin was down in an instant, his long legs curled up in some mysterious way so that they showed as little as might be.
"Up anchor!" he said. "Yo heave ho, and off we go, to the land of Spose-y-oh!"
The child bubbled into a laugh.
"I guess you're funny!" she said.
"I guess I am!" said Calvin Parks. "Comical Cal—well now, how long is it since I heard that?"
"Comical Cal,Scairt of a gal!"
"There was a little gal jest about your age used to say that whenever I passed her house."
"Was you?" inquired the child.
"Was I what? scairt? yes, I was! scairt out of my boots, if I'd had any."
"Why was you?"
"Why was Silas's gray hoss gray? This ain't playin' s'pose, little un. S'pose you start in!"
"Why," said the child; "well—you see—you just s'pose, you know. You cans'pose about anything; I do it at home, and sometimes—only don't tell—I s'pose in meetin', if I had a bunnet like—but you never saw her, I s'pose. But most of all I like to s'pose about this place, because there isn't anything, so you can have anything you like. See?"
"Isee!" said Calvin.
"There used to be a house here!" the child went on. "There truly did."
"You don't say!" said Calvin.
"That was the cellar of it;" she nodded toward the yawning gulf, full of briars and blackened brick and timbers. "The house was burned up—no, I mean down—no, I meanallburned, both ways, long ago; ever 'n' ever 'n' ever so long."
"Ever 'n' ever 'n' ever so long!" repeated Calvin.
"This was the gardin. This is a rose-bush I'm settin' under. It has white roses in summer, white with pinky in the middle."
"You bet it has! and the next one has red damask, big as a piny, and sweet—there!"
The child stared. "How did you know?" she asked.
"I'm jest learnin' the game," said Calvin. "Clap on sail, little un!"
"But it's funny, because you s'posed right! Well—and so I play s'pose the house was there, and it was all white marble with a gold roof. And s'pose a little girl lived there, about as big as me, with golden hair that came down to her feet; and she had a white dress, and a blue dress, and a pink dress, and a silk dress, and all kinds of dresses; and shoes and stockin's to match every single one. Have you s'posed that?"
"I'm gettin' there!" said Calvin. "Gimme time! I can't s'pose all them stockin's to once, you know."
"I can s'pose things right off!" said thechild. "But p'raps it's different when you are old. Well! And s'pose she had a mother, andshewas a beautiful lady, and she had a velvet dress, purple, like a piece in Aunt Susan's quilt. It's as soft as a baby, or a new kitten. And s'pose the little girl came out into the gardin, and said, 'Mittie May, come and play with me!' and s'pose I went, and s'pose she took me into the house, and into a room that was all pink, with silver chairs and sofys, and pink curtains, and a pink pianner,—"
"Belay there, young un!" said Calvin. "You're off soundin's. You don't want the pianner should be pink. Why, 'twould be a sight!"
"Ithink 'twould be lovely!" cried the child. "All smooth, like the pond looks when the sun is goin' down."
Calvin shook his head gravely. "I don't go with that!" he said, "not a mite.Isay, s'pose the pianner was white, withpink roses painted on it. I see one like that once, to Savannah, Georgia, and it was handsome, I tell ye. Make it white with pink roses, little un!"
"All right!" said the child. "And anyhow, s'pose the lady played on it, and the little girl—" she turned suddenly shy, and hung her head.
"Will you laugh if I say her name?" she asked wistfully.
"Laugh!" said Calvin. "Do I look like laughin', young un? nor yet I don't feel like it. What is her name?"
"S'pose it's Clementina Loverina Beauty! I made up the middle one myself. S'pose she asked me to dance, and we danced, and the floor was pink marble, and we had gold slippers on, and my hair grew down to my feet too, and—and—and then s'pose we was hungry, and Clementina Loverina Beauty waved her hand, and a table come up through the floor with roastchicken on it, and cramb'ry sauce, and grapes, and icecream and cake, and—and we eat all we could hold, and then we went to sleep in a gold bed with silk sheets. There! now it's your turn."
"My turn?" said Calvin vaguely.
"Yes! your turn to s'pose. What do you s'pose, about this place?"
"Oh! this place. Well, now you're talkin'. Only I don't know as I can play this game as pretty as you do, Mittie May. I don't believe I can git you up any white marble buildin's, nor gold floors, nor that kind of thing. 'Tain't my line, you see."
"Why not?" asked the child. "Because you are a brown man can't you?"
Calvin nodded. "I expect that's about the size of it," he said gravely. "I'm a brown man. Yes, little un, you surely hit it off that time. And bein' a brown man, it stands to reason that I can't s'pose nothin' risin' out of that hole but a brown house.S'pose it's there now, what? a long brown house, facin' south, see? This is the way it lays. Over this main sullar is the kitchen—big kitchen it is, with lots of winders, and all of 'em sunny, some ways of it; I dono just how they can be, but so they seem. Flowers in 'em, too; sweet—I tell ye; and then the settin'-room openin' out of it."
"What's in the settin'-room?" asked Mittie May. "S'pose we're in it now; tell me!"
"S'pose we are! There's a rag carpet on the floor; see it? hit-or-miss pattern. Mother made it herself; leastways, the mother of the boy I'm comin' to bimeby. I always liked hit-or-miss better than any other pattern. Then there's smaller rugs, and one of 'em has a dog on it, with real glass eyes; golly, but they shine! And a table in the middle with a lamp on it, glass lamp, with a red shade; and a Bible, andCap'n Cook's voyages, and Longfellow's poems. Mother was a great hand for poetry—that is, the boy's mother, you understand."
"S'pose about the boy!" said Mittie May eagerly.
"Well—s'pose he was a brown boy, same as I am man; brown to match the house. Hair and eyes, jumper and pants, just plain brown; not much of a boy to look at, you understand. S'pose there was jest him and father and mother. There had been a little gal;—s'pose she was like you, little un, slim and light on her feet, singin' round the house—but she was wanted somewheres else, and she went. S'pose the boy thought a sight of his mother, specially after the little gal went. Him and her used to play together for all the world like two kids. S'pose he dug her gardin for her, and sowed her seeds, and then he'd take and watch the plants comin' up, and seems thoughhe couldn't wait for 'em to bloom so's he could git a posy to carry in to mother. Yes, sir! she liked them posies, mother did; she liked 'em, sure enough!"
He was silent a moment. "Go on!" cried the child. "You ain't half s'posing, brown man."
"No more I am!" said Calvin Parks. "Well, little un, I dono as I can play this game real well, after all. S'pose after a spell the boy's mother went away too. Where? Well, she'd go to the best place there was, you know; nat'rally she would."
"That's heaven!" said the child decidedly.
"Jes' so! to be sure!" Calvin assented. "S'pose she went to heaven; to see after the little gal, likely; hey? That'd leave father and the boy alone, wouldn't it? Well now, s'pose father couldn't stand it real well without her. What then, little un? S'pose the more he tried it the less he likedit, till bumby he begun to take things to make him forget, as warn't the best things in the world for him to take. S'pose he did; do you blame him?"
"N—no!" said the child. "Unless you mean stole 'em!"
"No! no! not that kind of takin', little un; 'tother kind, like when you take med'cine. S'pose he kind o' made believe'twasmed'cine for a spell. Then s'pose he got so he warn't jest like himself, and spoke kind o' sharp, and took a strap to the boy now and then, harder than he would by natur', you wouldn't blame him, would you? Not a mite! But s'pose things went on that way till they warn't real agreeable for neither one of 'em. Then—s'pose one night—when he warn't himself, mind you!—he shook out his pipe on the settin'-room carpet and set the house afire. You wouldn't blame him for that either, would you? Poor father!"
He paused.
"What do you s'pose then?" cried the child eagerly. "Did the house burn up?"
Calvin made a silent gesture toward the ruined cellar. Something in it struck the child silent too. She crept nearer, and slid her hand into Calvin's.
"You don't s'pose they was burned, do you?" she said in an awestruck whisper.
"No, they warn't burned," said Calvin slowly. "But father never helt his head up again, and 'twarn't a great while before he was gone too, after mother and the little gal. So then the boy was left alone. See?"
"Poorbrown boy!" said the child. "S'pose what he did then!"
"S'pose he lit out!" said Calvin Parks; "And s'pose I light out too, little gal. It's gettin' towards sundown, and I've got quite a ways to go before night."
He rose, and stretched his brown length, towering a great height above the rose-bush.
"But before I go," he added; "s'pose we see what hossy's got in back of him. I shouldn't wonder a mite if we found a stick of candy. S'pose we go and look!"
"S'pose we do!" cried Mittie May.