The Wooing of Calvin Parks Part 9

"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 yet hossy 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 gra.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 can s'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?"

"_I_ see!" 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 mean _all_ burned, 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 the child. "But p'raps it's different when you are old. Well! And s'pose she had a mother, and _she_ was 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!"

"_I_ think '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. _I_ say, s'pose the pianner was white, with pink 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 roast chicken 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 gla.s.s eyes; golly, but they shine! And a table in the middle with a lamp on it, gla.s.s lamp, with a red shade; and a Bible, and Cap'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 though he 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!"