The Wooing of Calvin Parks

"Belonged to Uncle Sim Penny," he said. "Ma give it to me, on accounts of me bein' his name-son; I don't know as ever I've used it, or likely to, and Sam'l has always coveted it. You give that to Sam'l, Calvin, will you?"

"Oh molasses!" said Calvin impatiently. "Give it to him yourself, you ridic'lous old object!"

"No! no, Calvin! no, no, sir!" cried Mr. Sim piteously. "We don't speak, you know; we – we've lost the habit of it, and we're too old to ketch holt of it again. You give it to him, Cal, like a good feller! And – and there's another thing, Calvin. Did you have any dealin's with Cousin about what we was speakin' of some time along back, in regards to Sam'l?"

"I did!" said Calvin Parks.

"Well – well, Cal, what did she say?" Mr. Sim leaned forward anxiously. "Was she anyways favorable, sir?"

"She was not!" replied Calvin. "She give me to understand – not in so many words, but that was the sense of it, – that she'd full as soon marry a cucumber-wood pump as him, or you either. So there you have it!"

"Dear me!" cried Mr. Sim; and he wrung his hands with the identical gesture that Mr. Sam had made. "Dear me sirs! what is to become of us, Calvin?"

"Dinner is ready, Cousin Sim!" said Mary Sands, putting her head in at the door. "Cousin Sam, dinner's ready! Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Parks, and pleased to see you!"

CHAPTER XIV

AT LAST!

Mr. Sim shuffled in from one door, Mr. Sam from the other. As each raised his eyes to look at the table, he saw the figure opposite; both stopped short, and the two pairs of little gray eyes glared, one at a black waistcoat, the other at a red.

"Take your seats, Cousins, please!" said Mary Sands, quickly. "Mr. Parks, if you'll set opposite me – that's it! The Lord make us thankful, Cousins and Mr. Parks, this Christmas Day, and mindful of the wants of others, amen! You said you didn't mind carvin', Mr. Parks, so I've give you the turkey."

The four gray eyes, releasing the waistcoat buttons opposite, glanced furtively over the table, and opened wide. Never had the Sill farm seen a Christmas dinner like this. "Ma" had liked a good set-out, but she aimed to be saving, holidays and all days. They always had a turkey, but it was apt to be the smallest hen in the flock, and the rest was to match. But here, – here was the Big Young Gobbler, the pride and glory of the poultry yard, no longer ruffling it in black and red, but shining in rich golden brown, with strings of nut-brown sausages about his portly breast. Here was cranberry sauce, not in a bowl, but moulded in the wheat-sheaf mould, and glowing like the Great Carbuncle. Here was an Alp of potato, a golden mountain of squash, onions glimmering translucent like moonstones, the jewels of the winter feast, celery tossing pale-green plumes – good gracious! celery enough for a hotel, Mr. Sam thought; here beside each plate was a roll – was this bread, Mr. Sim wondered, twisted into a knot and shining "like artificial?" and on each roll a spray of scarlet geranium with its round green leaf. And what —what was that in the middle of the table? The twins forgot the waistcoats; forgot the waste too, forgot even each other, and stared with all their eyes. A castle! a real castle, towers and battlements, moat and drawbridge, all complete, all sparkling in crystal sugar. From the topmost turret a tiny pennon floating; in the gateway a knight on horseback, nearly as large as the pennon, with fairy lance couched. It was the triumph of Mr. Ivory Cheeseman's life.

"You take that to your lady friend," he said, "and say the man as made it wishes her well, and you too, friend Parks, you too!"

Mary Sands was gazing at it with delighted eyes.

"Did you ever, Cousins?" she said. "Now did you ever see anything so handsome as that? It's a Christmas present from Mr. Parks, and it beats any present ever I had in my life. I declare, this is a Christmas, isn't it, Cousins? and look at you both dressed up to the nines, and lookin' real – " she caught Calvin's eye over the turkey, and faltered, – "real nice, I'm sure! And each one of you changin' his vest for Christmas! I'm sure it's real smart of you. Cousin Sim's got on his new slippers, Cousin Sam! Cousin Sim, you see Cousin Sam's got the seal on, and don't it look elegant? Why, I'm just as proud of you both! Now you want to make a good dinner, Mr. Parks and Cousins, or I shall think it isn't good, and I own I've done my best."

"Good!" said Calvin Parks, as he handed a solid ivory slab to Mr. Sim; "if there's a better dinner than this in the State of Maine, the folks wouldn't get over it, I expect. I've seen dinners served from the Roostick down to New Orleans, and I never see the ekal of this for style nor quality."

"I'm sure you are more than kind to say so!" said Mary Sands. "Dear me! times like this, any one thinks of days past and gone, don't they? You must have had real good times Christmas, when you was boys together, Mr. Parks, Cousins and you together."

"Well, I guess!" said Calvin Parks. "Sam, do you rec'lect one time I come over to spend Christmas Day with you when we was little shavers about ten year old, and we left the pig-pen gate open, and the pigs got all over the place? Gorry! do you rec'lect the back door stood open, and nothin' to it but old Marm Sow must projick right into the kitchen where your Ma was gettin' dinner? Haw! haw! do you rec'lect that?"

"He! he!" piped Mr. Sam; "I guess I do! and Ma up and basted her hide with hot gravy! My Juniper, how she hollered!"

Mr. Sim fixed Mary Sands with a glittering eye. "You tell him 'twarn't gravy, 'twas puddin' sauce!" he said.

"Cousin Sam, Cousin Sim says 'twas puddin' sauce!" said Mary Sands cheerfully.

"Think likely 'twas!" said Mr. Sam. "Tell him he's right for once, and put that down on his little slate."

"Then another time," Calvin went on; "another morsel, Miss Hands? just a scrap? can't? now ain't that a sight! I can, just as easy – watch me now! I rec'lect well, that Methody parson was here with his boy. What was his name? Lihu, was it, or 'Liphalet?"

"'Liphalet!" said Mr. Sim, a faint twinkle coming into his dim eyes. "'Liphalet Pinky!"

"'Liphalet Pinky! that's it!" Calvin laid down his knife and fork to slap his thigh. "Jerusalem crickets! how we did play it on that unfort'nate youngster! Miss Hands, you see Sim settin' there, sober as a judge; you'd think he'd been like that all his life now, wouldn't you? You'd never think he'd get an unfort'nate boy into the bucket and h'ist him up and down the well till he was e'enamost scairt to death, would you now?"

"I certin should not!" cried Mary Sands gleefully. "Why, Cousin Sim!"

"And he hollerin' all the time, 'Lemme out! I'll tell Pa on you, and he'll call down the wrath to come! You lemme out!' and then we'd slack on the old sweep and down he'd go again – haw! haw!"

"He! he!" cackled Mr. Sim, rubbing his little withered hands. "I can see the tossel on his cap now, bobbin' up and down, and his little pickéd nose under it – he! he!"

"Ho! ho!" chimed in Mr. Sam suddenly. "And I can see you – I mean, tell him I can see him bobbin' up and down on Ma's knee when she spanked him for it."

"That's too long to say," said Mary Sands placidly; "think likely he heard it, didn't you, Cousin Sim?"

"Tell him he got jest as good!" retorted Mr. Sim.

"Cousin Sam, Cousin Sim says you got it just as good!" said Mary. "Now, Mr. Parks, if you're a mind to carry the turkey out while I bring in the pies – if nobody'll have any more, that is to say!"

"Well!" said Calvin Parks, rising and lifting the huge platter; "if all had eat what I have, there'd be nothin' to carry out, that's all I have to say. After you, Miss Hands!"

He closed the pantry door cautiously after him.

"How do you think it's goin'?" he asked eagerly.

"Splendid!" cried Mary Sands under her breath. "It's goin' splendid! They've looked at each other much as four or five times, and twice they only just stopped in time or they'd have spoke to each other. I saw Cousin Sam catch his breath and fairly choke the words back. Keep right on as you are, Mr. Parks, and we'll have 'em talkin' in another hour, see if we don't!"

The pies – such pies! – had come and gone. With furtive blinks, Mr. Sam had unbuttoned the lower buttons of a black, Mr. Sim of a red waistcoat; they leaned back in their chairs, their sharp little features relaxed, and they stirred their coffee with the air of men at peace with the world.

Calvin Parks bent over his cup with an attentive look.

"Boys," he said pensively, "warn't this your Ma's cup?"

The twins started, and looked at the dark blue cup with gold on the handle.

"It was so!" said Mr. Sam.

"Certin!" said Mr. Sim.

"I thought so!" said Calvin. "Miss Hands, you ought to have this cup by rights; and yet I'm pleased to have it, for I thought a sight of the boys' Ma, and she knowed it. She was always good to me, if she did call me a rover; always good to me she was, from the time I was knee high to a grasshopper. The boys was bigger than me in those days, Miss Hands; I dono as you'd think it now, but so it was. They stopped growin' at the same time; didn't you, boys? Along about fourteen year old, warn't it? You've been just the same height since then, haven't ye?"

"I'm a mite the tallest!" said Mr. Sam, raising his head.

"Tell him it ain't so!" piped Mr. Sim. "Tell him I am!"

"Sho!" said Calvin Parks. "I don't believe either one of you has the least idee, reelly. If there was any difference, I should say Sim was just a shade the tallest; how does it look it to you, Miss Hands?"

"I think Cousin Sam is!" replied Mary Sands promptly.

"You don't say!" said Calvin. "Now that's queer! Looks to me – well! I say, let's find out! 'Tis easy done. Come on into the front room, boys, and stand back to back, and I'll measure ye!"

The front room was open in honor of Christmas Day; "Ma's" best parlor, with its cross-stitch embroideries, its mourning pictures, its rigid black horse-hair chairs and sofas. Above the mantelpiece, with its tall vases of waving pampas grass, "Ma" herself gazed down from a portentous gold frame with a quelling glance; "Pa" hung beside her, a meek young man with a feeble smile of apology; one could understand that he had backed out of existence as soon as might be. In one corner stood a tall dim mirror, and before it a little double chair of quaint shape, evidently made for two children.