The Wooing of Calvin Parks Part 11

Calvin glanced toward the corner. "Does he take much notice?" he asked.

"Lonzo? no! he's no more than a child. But yet 'tis time for him to go home. Lonzo! dinner-time!"

The simpleton rose and shambled forward, a huge uncouth figure with a face like a platter; not an empty platter now, though, for it was wreathed in smiles. He held out the shining dish. "Done good?" he asked.

"Elegant, Lonzo, elegant! you are smart, no mistake about that. Help yourself to the cream candy! that square pan is o' purpose for you."

Lonzo stowed a third of the contents of the pan in his cavernous mouth, the rest in various pockets, and departed grinning happily.

"He's as good as gold!" said Mr. Cheeseman. "Not a mite of harm in Lonzo; I wish all sensible folks was as pleasant. Now, friend Parks, bile up!"

Calvin pulled his brown moustache, and looked shy.

"I guess I'm pretty slow mola.s.ses, Mr. Cheeseman," he said. "I ain't used to bilin', except in the way of gettin' mad once in a while, and I don't do that real often; but yet I'll try my best."

In a few words he described the twins and his relation to them. "No kin, you know, blood nor married; only just neighbors all our lives till late years. I should expect to do a neighbor's part by the boys, week-days and Sundays, and I dono as ever I've done contrary."

Then he told, with more reserve, of "Miss Hands's" coming; of his finding her there; of her striking him as, take it all round, the likeliest woman ever he saw; of his saying to himself that if ever things turned out so that he had a right to ask a woman to hitch her wagon to a middle-aged hoss that had some go in him yet, here was the woman.

"But yet I told myself first thing," he added, taking up the poker and tapping the bright little stove with it; "I told myself she would be marryin' one of the boys most likely; I kep' that in mind steady, as you may say. I thought I was so used to the idee that it wouldn't jar me much of any when it come to the fact. But it did; yes siree, it did, sure enough. 'Peared as if a cog slipped somehow, and my whole works was jolted out of kilter."

He looked anxiously at Mr. Cheeseman, who nodded with grave comprehension.

"And when it comes," he went on, "to each one of them beseechin' me to get her to marry the other--why--I really am blowed, Mr. Cheeseman, and do you wonder at it?"

"She's done!" said Mr. Cheeseman, rising. "Lend a hand with that pan, friend Parks; the big square one yonder."

A moment of anxious silence followed, as the thick golden-brown ma.s.s flowed into the pan, curled into the corners, and finally settled in a smooth glossy sheet.

"There!" said Mr. Cheeseman. "Now we'll let her cool a spell till she's fit to handle. Take your seat, friend Parks! No, I don't wonder no way in the world at your bein' blowed, or jolted either. What gets me is, why don't you speak for yourself, like that other feller in the story?"

Calvin Parks pulled his moustache meditatively.

"I know!" he said. "Longfellow's poems. Mother thought a sight of Longfellow's poems. John Alden, warn't it? and the old fellow was Miles Standish? Yes, I rec'lect well. But you see, Mr. Cheeseman, the young woman herself give him the tip that time. 'Why don't you speak for yourself, John?' I rec'lect well enough. Now, Miss Hands never give me any reason to think she'd rather have me than ary one of the boys."

"Has she given you any reason to think she wouldn't?" queried the old man.

"Well--no! I don't know as she has."

"Well, then, where does the trouble come in? You're twice the man they are, I take it, from all accounts. Don't know as ever I saw them, but I knew the old woman, and used to hear of her goin's on bringing these young uns up. I don't see as you're bound to canva.s.s for them, no way in the world. Rustle in and get her yourself, is what I say."

Calvin looked at him anxiously.

"You see, Mr. Cheeseman, it's this way," he said. "I think a sight of her, don't I? I've said so, and I haven't said half. That bein' so, nat'rally I want her to be well fixed, don't you see? The best that can be, ain't that so? Now, either one of those two darned old huckleberries can give her a first-rate home; as nice a place as there is in this State, house, stock and fixin's all to match. A woman wants a home; one of them old gooseberries said so, and it's true. Now, what have I got to offer her? I've got a hole in the ground, and a candy route. You see how it is, don't you, Mr. Cheeseman?"

Mr. Cheeseman reflected for a few minutes.

"Where's your savin's?" he asked abruptly. "You were master of a coasting schooner for ten year, you say. Single man, and no bad habits, I should judge,--you'd ought to have money in the bank, young man. What have you done with it?"

Calvin hung his head.

"That's right!" he said. "That's so, Mr. Cheeseman. I had money in the bank. Last year I drawed it out, like a fool; somebody'd been talkin'

investments to me, and I thought I could do better with it; and--well, I had it on board, and there was a feller,--well, I needn't go into that.

I never thought he would have, if his mind had been quite straight. Wife died, and he warn't the same man afterwards. You can see how 'twas! He took it, and then got drownded with it in his pants pocket--or so it seemed likely--so n.o.body got much out of that deal. I had some part of it in another place, though, sufficient to buy me the route, and five dollars over. I put the five dollars in the bank, but it don't yield what you'd call an income precisely. So there it is, Mr. Cheeseman, and I can't see that things looks much like matrimony for little Calvin.

Honest now, do you?"

Mr. Cheeseman rumpled his thick hair till it gave the impression of Papa Monkey's having married a white c.o.c.katoo. He glanced at Calvin sidewise.

"She has money,--" he said slowly.

"And she can keep it!" said Calvin Parks. "I ain't that kind."

"Just so!" said Mr. Cheeseman. "Precisely. Where are you livin' now, friend Parks?"

"I'm boardin' with Widder Marlin;" said Calvin.

The old man looked up sharply. "You are?" he said. "Humph! that don't seem a very likely place, 'cordin' to folks's ideas round here. Them two aren't thought specially well of by their neighbors."

"That so?" said Calvin. "I guess they won't hurt me any. I sailed mate to Cap'n Marlin," he added, "and he was always good to me."

"Humph!" said Mr. Cheeseman again. "I see." He rumpled his hair again, and rose to his feet. "Friend Parks," he said, slowly, "you've got to lay by, that's all there is to it; and I'm going to show you how."

CHAPTER X

JOHN ALDEN--WITH A DIFFERENCE

Winter had come. Early December though it was, the snow lay deep and smooth over meadow and hill, and hung in fluffy ma.s.ses on the branches of pine and fir. Calvin Parks had got rid of the wheels that never ceased to incommode him, and jingled along merrily on runners, both he and Hossy enjoying the change.

It had become a matter of course that he should turn in at the Sills'

gateway whenever he pa.s.sed along their road, and he managed to pa.s.s once or twice a week. So on this crystal morning he found himself driving into the stable yard almost unconsciously. The brown horse whinnied as he clattered into the stable, and an answering whinny came from the furthest stall in the corner.

"That's old John sayin' good mornin', hossy!" said Calvin. "How are you, John? Who else is to home?"

He looked along the row of stalls. "Here's the old hoss of all, and here's the mare. The young colt is out; presume likely Sam is gone to market, hossy. What say to gettin' a bite in his stall? He won't be back till dinner time."

Hossy approving, Calvin unharnessed him, and he stepped into the stall without further invitation.

"Now you be real friendly with old John and the mare!" said Calvin, "and I'll come for you sooner than you're ready."

The brown horse flung him a brief snort of a.s.surance, and plunged his head into the manger; and Calvin fastened the door and made his way slowly toward the house.

The back view of the Sill farmhouse was hardly less pleasant than the front, especially when, as now, the morning sun lay full on the warm yellow of the house, the bright green of the door, and the reddish granite of the well-scoured steps. A screen of dark evergreens set off all these cheerful tints; and to make the picture still gayer Mary Sands, a scarlet "sontag" tied trimly over her blue dress, was sitting on the cellar door, picking over tomatoes.

Calvin Parks was conscious of missing Hossy. He wanted some one to appeal to.