The Wooing of Calvin Parks. Richards Laura Elizabeth Howe

I snickered right out in meetin'," said Calvin. "I just couldn't help it; and she was so mad she whisked into the house and slammed the door in my face, and that was the last I saw of Ivy.

      "But next time poor old Sam come along, slicked up for courtin', with his heart in his vest pocket all ready to hand out, why, he got the door in his face, too, and had to start in all over again. Well, sir – I beg your pardon, ma'am, or I should rather say miss – that was pretty much the way things was when I quit home, and that was pretty much the way I expected to find 'em when I come back. It didn't seem as if a trifle of fifteen years was going to make much difference in Ma Sill, nor yet in Sam and Sim; they seemed sort of permanent, don't you know, like the old well-sweep, or the big willows. I s'pose when Ma was laid away the boys commenced to feel as if they was two minds as well as two bodies. You don't know what started them actin' this way?"

      Miss Sands reflected a moment.

      "I shouldn't be surprised," she said, "if it was their vests."

      "Their vests?" repeated Calvin.

      "Yes! You noticed Cousin Sam had on a red one and Cousin Sim a black one? Well – but suppose I tell you my end of it, Mr. Parks, just as it come to me."

      "I should be fairly pleased to death if you would!" said Calvin Parks. "That's what I've been layin' for right along. Yes, I spotted them vests first thing, I guess it's the first stitch ever they had on that was anyways different. Well! you was going to say?"

      Mary Sands was silent a moment, gazing thoughtfully at the blue platter she held.

      "I'm a lone woman!" she said at last. "I was an only child, and parents died when I was but young. I've kept house these ten years for my uncle over to Tupham Corners. He was a widower with one son, and a real good man; like a father to me, he was. Last year he died, and left the farm to Reuben, – that was his son, – and the schooner, a coasting schooner he was owner of, to me. I expect he thought – " she paused, and a bright color crept into her warm brown cheek; "well," she continued, "anyhow, Reuben and I didn't hit it off real well, and I left. I was staying with friends when a letter come from Cousins statin' their Ma had passed away and would I come to keep house for them. I'd never visited here, but Cousin Lucindy was own cousin to my mother, and we'd met at conference and like that, but yet I'd never seen the boys. Well, I thought about it a spell, and I thought I'd come and try, and if we suited, well and good, and if not there'd be no bones broke. So I packed up and come over by the stage. Well!"

      She stopped to laugh, a little mellow tinkling laugh. "I guess I sha'n't forget my first sight of Cousins. I come up the steps kind of quiet. The door stood open, and I knocked and waited a minute, hearin' voices; then I stepped inside the hall. The front sittin'-room door was open too, and Cousins was standin' back to it, them same brown backs, each one the other over again, and one of them was holdin' a red vest in each hand. I coughed, but they didn't hear me, and he went right on speakin'.

      "'Ma bought this red flannel at the bankrupt sale,' he said. 'She allowed 'twould keep us in vests and her in petticuts and thro't bandages for ten years, and I'm not going to begin to waste the minute she's under ground. She would say, "you go on wearin' them vests!" and I'm goin' to.'

      "'She wouldn't!' said the other. 'She'd say, "you go on wearin' the coat and pants, but if you are in mournin' for me, show it by puttin' on a black vest, as is no more than decent."'

      "'I can mourn just as well in red flannel as what I can in black!' says the first one.

      "'You can't!' says the other.

      "'I'll show you whether I can or not!' says the first.

      "And at that they turned face to face to each other and sideways to me, and each riz up his right arm – honest, Mr. Parks, I couldn't believe but 'twas the same person and him reflected in a mirror, they was so like. I thought they was goin' to strike each other, so I stepped forward and said, 'Good mornin', Cousins; I've come!'"

      Again she tinkled a laugh. "You never see men more surprised than what they was; but they shook hands real pleasant, made me welcome, and then walked one off one way and one the other, and so it has remained. At first they wanted to eat in different rooms, but I told 'em I couldn't have that, nor yet I couldn't have no quarrellin', so now we get on real pleasant, as you see. But isn't it comical? There! when I see them – "

      At this moment a prolonged cough was heard from the direction of the sitting-room; and at the same time a thin high voice called, "Calvin! you got lost, or what?"

      "Cousins are gettin' uneasy!" said Mary Sands. "You'd best go in, Mr. Parks, and I'm a thousand times obliged to you for helpin' me with the dishes. You are an elegant washer, I must say."

      "Miss Hands," replied Calvin Parks as he drew on his coat, "the man who wouldn't wash good to such wipin' as yours wouldn't deserve to eat out of a dish. The thanks is on my side for enjoyin' the privilege."

      CHAPTER III

      CALVIN'S STORY

      Passing from the kitchen into the back sitting-room, Calvin found Mr. Sim hunched in his chair, looking injured.

      "I didn't know but you had gone without comin' in," he said; "seems to me you've ben a long time with them dishes."

      "They're handsome dishes!" replied Calvin. "You wouldn't have me hurry and risk droppin' of them, would you? Well, Sim, I s'pose I must be joggin' along."

      "What's your hurry? what's your hurry?" cried Mr. Sim peevishly. "I didn't have no chance to talk at dinner, there was so much clack goin' on;" and he cast a baleful glance at the doorway. "I want to know where you've ben and what you've ben doin' all these years, Calvin. Sit down and fill your pipe, and let's hear about it."

      Calvin looked about him. "Well!" he said slowly, "I don't know as there's any such drivin' hurry. Hossy'll be pleased to stay a bit longer, I reckon;" he glanced out of the window at the fat brown horse, who was munching oats sleepily.

      "Want to hear where I've been, do you, Sim? All right! Where shall I set? Sam'll want to hear too, won't he?"

      "Yes!" cried Mr. Sam from the other room. "Certin' I do, Calvin, certin' I do."

      "Well, how about this? Come on into the front room, Sim!"

      "No! no!" cried Mr. Sim hastily. "I allus set here, Calvin. You might set in the doorway," he added, "then the other one could hear too."

      "Well, of all the darned foolishness ever I heard of!" said Calvin Parks. "Say, boys, how old was you last birthday? Was it fifty, or only five? Mebbe I was mistaken!"

      Standing in the doorway, which he seemed to fill with his stalwart sunburnt presence, he looked from one twin to the other, half amused, half indignant. The brothers shuffled their feet and wriggled in their chairs. Their motions were identical, and the furtive glance which Mr. Sam cast at Calvin was mirrored by Mr. Sim. "I can hear fust rate if you sit there, Cal!" said both brothers together.

      Calvin Parks pulled a chair into the doorway, and tilted it at a convenient angle. Again he looked from one twin to the other.

      "If your Ma was here – " he said slowly; "but there! She ain't, and that's all there is to it. Well, I'm here anyhow, ain't I? and you want to know how I come here. Well, I come behind hossy. Whose hossy? My hossy, and my waggin. Good enough hossy, good enough waggin; but defend me from that way of gettin' about! Land is good to live on: take a farm like this now; I admire it, and barrin' tomfoolishness, I call you two lucky fellows; but come to gettin' about, give me water. This rumblin' and joltin' about over clay ro'ds, and climbin' in and out over a great wheel, and like as not hossy startin' up just as you've got your leg over and throwin' of you into the ro'd – what I say is, darn it all! And think you might be slippin' along in a schooner, and the water lip-lappin', and the shore slidin' by smooth and pleasant, and no need to say 'gerlong up!' nor slap the reins nor feed her oats – I tell you, boys, I get so homesick for it I think some days I'll chuck the whole concern."

      "What concern?" inquired Mr. Sam. "You appear to me to ramble in your talk, Calvin, same as you allus did. Ma allus said you was a rambler in your talk and a rover in your ways, and you'd never settle down till you married."

      "She did, did she?" said Calvin