The Wooing of Calvin Parks Part 23

"Good morning, hossies!" she said cheerily. "I expect you're surprised to see me. I've got to get breakfast for all hands this mornin', and I'm goin' to begin with you. Mornin', colty! mornin', marey! mornin', John!

mornin', old hoss! Oh! you naughty old hoss, who ever would have thought of your actin' that way at your time of life! I _was_ surprised--my goodness! who's this in the box-stall? Calvin Parks's Hossy? What upon earth! Why, you darlin', where's your master?"

Hossy's explanations, though fervid, and accompanied by agreeable rubbings of a soft brown nose on her shoulder, were not lucid, and Mary gazed about her in bewilderment.

"You never run away, hossy?" she asked; "you wouldn't do that!

Then--where is he?"

Just then a golden finger of sunshine slanted through the dusty window and fell on the harness-room door, which stood slightly ajar. Mary Sands ran to the door and peeped in. There, in the one chair tilted back, his feet on the stove, his head against the farther wall, sat Calvin Parks, sound asleep.

"Oh! you blessed creatur'!" cried Mary under her breath. She stood looking at him, taking swift note of his appearance.

"He's sick!" she said; "or he's been through the wars somehow. He looks completely tuckered out. There! he is not fit to be round alone, and that's the livin' truth. Oh dear! 'tis cold as a stone here; he'll get his death. Calvin! Mr. Parks! Wake up, won't you? Wake up!"

Now Calvin Parks had been dreaming, a thing that seldom occurred in the simple organism of his brain. He dreamed that he was on a lonely road, with high, rocky banks on either side; and that he was pursued by two black hooded snakes with glittering eyes, that reared and hissed on either side of him, and darted at him as he sped along. He tried to cry out, but found no voice. As he panted on in terror and anguish, thinking every moment to feel the venomed fangs in his flesh, suddenly a bird came flying down, a blue bird with a white breast, and took the evil creatures one after the other and flung them far from his path. And as he looked, still panting and breathless, the bird turned into Mary Sands in her blue dress and white ap.r.o.n, and she cried--"Wake up, Calvin Parks! wake up!"

He opened his eyes, dim and bewildered with sleep. The vision was still before him, the trim blue and white figure, the pretty brown hair, the hazel eyes full of anxious tenderness. Still bewildered, still only half awake, he opened his arms and gathered the little figure into them. "My woman!" he said. "My woman, before G.o.d and while I live."

"Oh! yes, Calvin!" said Mary Sands; and she hid her head on his broad breast and sobbed, a little happy sob.

So they stood for a moment, heaven as near to their middle-aged hearts as to any boy and girl lovers under the sun; then suddenly Calvin put her from him with a quick movement, and stepped back.

"I forgot!" he cried. "Mary, I forgot. I--I spoke too soon."

"Too soon!" echoed Mary Sands.

"I've no right to you yet!" he cried. "I thought I had; I forgot last night. Mary, I won't ask for you till I have a right to. Yesterday I had the right, or thought I had; to-day I haven't. You--you'd better forget what I said--no! don't forget one word of it, but--but put it away till--some day--" his voice broke, and he turned away with something like a sob.

Mary Sands eyed him keenly; then she spoke in her usual quiet cheerful tone.

"Mr. Parks, would you just as lives light a fire in the stove? It's perishin' cold here."

Calvin started, and flung himself furiously at the pile of kindlings in the corner.

"That shows!" he muttered, as he stuffed them into the stove with a reckless hand. "That shows the kind I am, lettin' you freeze while I talk foolishness. Here!" He took off his coat, and would have wrapped it round her, but she put it back quietly and decidedly.

"You put that coat on again, Mr. Parks. I'll wrap this robe round me; there! now I'm warm as toast, and I should be pleased if you would sit down on that bucket and tell me what's happened; why you come here in the dead of night, and--and all about it."

Calvin sat down on the bucket and looked at her helplessly.

"Mary," he said, "you know I've marked you for mine this long while back."

"Yes!" said Mary simply. "I know that, Calvin."

"I said I wouldn't ask you to take no such rollin' stone as I've been, until I had something laid by. I put a figger to it. I thought if I had five hundred dollars in the bank and the route doin' well, as it has been right along lately, I could ask you to believe that--that I'd stopped rollin' and rovin', and you might regard me as a stiddy character, and one that was--not worthy of you, not by a long chalk--but aimin' so to be, and with a beginnin' made that way. Mary, yesterday mornin' I had that five hundred dollars, and I was the happiest man in the State of Maine. I was comin' to you to-day, after puttin' it in the bank, and--well, no need to tell you what I was goin' to say."

"I thought you had said it!" said Mary meekly; and there was a twinkle in her voice, though she kept her eyes resolutely cast down.

Calvin groaned. "Don't!" he said. "Don't rub it in, Mary! Last night--I lost pretty near the half of it. Don't ask me how; it's gone, and I've got to airn it over again. Now--" he spoke rapidly, stumbling over his words, his eyes fixed imploringly on her. "I've got to get away, Mary. I can't stay round here just yet awhile. I made up my mind last night, drivin' over here from that--that place. I'm goin' a-rollin' and a-rovin' once more, till I get that money back."

"Is that so?" asked Mary quietly. "Where was you thinkin' of goin', Calvin?"

"I'm goin' back to the Mary Sands!" he said. "She's in port, loadin' up with lumber for Floridy, and the skipper wants to make a change. I--I'll be glad to see the Mary again, and I expect they'll take me on; what say?"

"I expect they will!" said Mary dryly.

Then, all in a moment, she was laughing and crying on his shoulder.

"Calvin!" she cried. "Calvin, you foolish creatur'! you don't need to go to Bath to find the Mary Sands. _I'm_ Mary Sands!"

"You!" said Calvin Parks.

She glanced up at him, and broke down again in laughter and tears.

"You needn't look like a stone image!" she cried. "'Tis so! I've been Mary Sands right along. It sounded so comical your callin' me Hands, I wouldn't let Cousins tell you. If I've stopped them once I have twenty times. Besides, you was so mad at a woman's bein' owner of your schooner, I couldn't help but laugh every time I thought of it. I s'pose I've been foolish about it, but it's been a kind of play to me all this time. Calvin, you make me act real forth-puttin', but--if you _won't_ speak for yourself--there! will you be master of the Mary Sands, afloat and sh.o.r.e?"

She held out her hands with a pretty gesture. Calvin grasped them so hard that she cried out, and his face, white again under its brown, set in dogged lines of gentle obstinacy, the most hopeless kind.

"I can't!" he said. "Mary, all the more I can't because you are a rich woman. You see that, don't you? I'm sure you must see that, Mary. Soon as ever I've aimed that money again--"

"Oh! plague take the money," cried Mary, her patience giving way. "Give it to the cat; she's fitter to take care of it than you are, Calvin Parks. There! you do try me. You ain't fit to live alone, no more than--and my goodness gracious me!" she cried, her voice changing suddenly; "if I hadn't clean forgotten Cousins! Calvin, you've _got_ to stay by us, you've just plain and simple got to! Hush! hold your obstinate tongue and listen to me. Cousin Sam had an accident yesterday.

He was out with the old hoss of all, and they met the snow-plough, and if that old creatur' didn't leap over the stone wall and smash the sleigh to kindlin' wood! Cousin Sam's all stove up inside, he thinks, but I'm in hopes not. There's no bones broke, and I guess all he got was a good shakin' up; but anyway, he's in bed, and can't move hand or foot.

And I can't take care of him and Cousin Sim, and keep house, and see to the stock and poultry too, Calvin Parks; now I can't! I've _got_ to have help!"

At this moment a jingling of bells was heard outside; Mary stepped to the window. "Who on earth comes here?" she exclaimed. "Of all the queer-lookin' turnouts--do look here, Calvin!"

Calvin looked. In an old-fashioned high-backed sleigh, drawn by an ancient white horse, sat a little old man so wrapped in furs that only the tip of a frosty nose could be seen. He was waving whip and reins wildly, and shouting "Somebody come! somebody come!"

"Gosh!" said Calvin Parks. He ran out, and Mary Sands followed him wondering.

"Mr. Cheeseman, I want to know if this is you!"

"I got it!" gasped the old man.

"You got it!" repeated Calvin. "You've got your everlastin', I expect, out this time o' day at your age. You come in to the fire, sir!"

Without more ado, he lifted the old man in his arms, carried him bodily into the little room, and set him down in the chair. Mr. Cheeseman was still breathless with frost and excitement, and gasped painfully, his eyes starting from his head.

"I got it!" he repeated. "I got it, Calvin!"

"Fetch your breath, old gentleman," said Calvin soothingly. "You ain't got that, anyway. What is it you have got? the rheumatiz?"

"The money!" cried the old candy-maker. "Your money, friend Calvin, every cent of it, except what was spent, and that warn't much."

Calvin stood as if turned to stone.

"What do you mean?" he faltered.

"I mistrusted all along!" cried Mr. Cheeseman. "I kep' askin' myself all day yesterday, where did she get that money? I never slep' last night for askin' it. Suddin, along about four o'clock this mornin', by the livin' Jingo, I see the whole contraption. I got up that minute of time, hitched up old Major, and drove straight out there to tell you what I suspicioned. You warn't there. They was awake, the two of 'em, and scared at your bein' out all night as they thought, and when I called and knocked they come down, and a sight they was. Talk of witches!