CHAPTER VI
BOARD AND LODGING
"Take a seat, Mr. Parks!" said Mary Sands, hospitably. "Talk of angels! Cousins and I were just speakin' of you, and sayin' you never told us the rest of that nice story you began the first time you was here."
"What story?" asked Calvin Parks.
"Why, your own story, to be sure. You told us how you was displeased at a woman's bein' owner of your schooner, – " her eyes twinkled mischievously, – "and how you come ashore and set up your candy route; but Cousins were just sayin' they didn't know where you lived, nor how you was fixed anyways, except that you had that nice hoss and waggin."
"That so?" said Calvin, musing. "Well, I don't know as there's any particklar story to the rest on't. I drive my route, you know; quite a ways it is; takes me about a week to git round it all. 'Tis pleasant doin's for the most part, only when it comes to gettin' in and out of this shay; that gits me every time. But I see the country, you know – pretty country it is; I never see a prettier, – and meet up with folks and all, – "
"Where do you reside?" inquired Mr. Sam. He had moved his chair near the door of Mr. Sim's sitting-room, where Calvin was, and now peered round the doorjamb, his body invisible, his little wizen face appearing as if hung in air.
"Great snakes, Sam!" exclaimed Calvin Parks. "Don't scare the life out of us. Where's the rest of you? No use your pretendin' to be one of them cherub articles, 'cause you don't look it, and don't let anyone deceive you into thinkin' you do. I live – if you call it livin', – down Tinkham way, about ten miles from here. I'm boardin' with Widder Marlin and her daughter. Ever hear of Phrony Marlin? Well, she's a case, Phrony is, and the old lady's another. Widder of a sea-cap'n that I sailed with in former days. She has a little home, and she lets me have a room. I don't know as the old lady is quite right in her mind – I don't know as either one of 'em is, come to think of it; and she ain't much of a cook; but as she says, it's only suppers and breakfasts, and it's all dust and ashes anyway. It ain't worth while to make trouble, and I git on first-rate."
"I'm afraid they don't make you real comfortable, Mr. Parks!" said Mary Sands. "I should think they might; I don't believe but what you do your part and more too."
"Well, I dono!" said Calvin simply. "I try to help out, split the wood, kerry water and like that; two lone women, ye know, no man belongin' to 'em; I wouldn't wish to let 'em feel forsaken any."
"Do they give you enough to eat?" inquired Mr. Sim.
"Oh, I guess so. They don't feed me any too high, but they don't live any higher themselves. Phrony has the dyspepsy – I dono as it's surprisin' that she should – and the old lady has an idee that eatin' is a snare of the evil one, and she gits along on next door after nothin', as you may say."
"The idea!" cried Mary Sands, indignantly. "Mr. Parks, why do you stay there? I wouldn't if I was you, not another day."
"Oh! they don't mean no harm," said Calvin; "not a mite. I git on first-rate so long as they do; it's only when they get to quarrellin' that I mind. When they fall afoul of each other, it ain't real agreeable; but there's where it comes in handy bein' a man. Hossy and me can git out from under foot most times, and leave 'em to train by themselves."
He paused, and shook his head with a reminiscent chuckle.
"Last week we had us quite a time!" he said. "Phrony got some kind of a bee in her bunnet – I dono what it was! seemed to have a kind of idee that she was goin' to git married, if only she had some money. I never see no man round the house, nor yet heard none speak of her; and, too, if she'd looked in the glass she'd have seen 'twarn't real reasonable to expect it. However it was, so it was; she's got her eye on somebody, no question about that. Well, it's a small farm, and the soil ain't any too rich; they git along, but no more than, I expect; and yet they don't spend a cent more'n they have to, you may resk your eye-teeth on that. Well, anyways, here's what happened. I come in one night, and the old lady was sittin' studyin' over a letter or like that. When she saw me, 'Cap'n,' she says (always calls me Cap'n, same as she did the old man), 'will you cast your eye over that,' she says, 'and tell me what you think of it?'
"I looked it over, and you may call me a horn-pout, Miss Hands and boys, if 'twarn't a bill from Phrony, drawed up in reg'lar style, chargin' her mother three dollars a week wages for thirty years. Now, Miss Hands, I'd like to know what you think of that."
"I think 'twas scandalous!" cried Mary Sands, emphatically. "I think she ought to be ashamed of herself. The idea!"
"Well, it didn't seem to me real suitable," said Calvin; "I couldn't make it seem so, and so I said. 'What's got into her?' I said. 'You and her belong together; and what's one's is 'tother's, ain't it, so far as livin' goes?'
"The old lady looks at me kind o' queer. 'Phrony ain't satisfied,' she says. 'She thinks the Lord designs her to be a helpmeet, and that He's manifestin' Himself at present, or liable so to do.'
"Well, I studied over that a bit, but I didn't make nothin' out of it. The old lady has spells, as I told you, when she ain't just right in her head. Makes me laugh sometimes, the things she'll say. Take last night, now! I didn't have no fork, and I asked her to please give me one. Honest, if she didn't take and bring me a spoon! 'There, Cap'n!' she says. 'It don't look like a fork,' she says, 'but I dono what's the matter with it. The Lord'll provide!' she says. 'It's all dust and ashes!' Other days, she'll be as wide awake as the next one, and talk straight as a string. Well, about the bill! I told her she'd better let it go, and Phrony'd come round and see she wa'n't actin' real sensible, nor yet pretty. But not she! Next mornin' before I left she come out to the barn and showed me another paper, and – Jerusalem crickets! if it warn't a bill against Phrony for board and lodgin' for forty-seven years! Haw! haw! That's where the old lady come out on top. There warn't no bee in her bunnet that time!"
"He! he!" cackled Mr. Sim.
"Ho! ho!" piped Mr. Sam.
But Mary Sands looked troubled. "Mr. Parks," she said; "you'll excuse me, as am little more than a stranger to you; but yet I can't help but say I do wish you was in a different kind of place. There must be lots of nice places where you would be more than welcome."
"Mebbe so, and mebbe son't!" said Calvin Parks placidly. "Folks is real friendly, all along the route. Yes, come to think of it, there's several has said they would be pleased to take me in for a spell, if I should be thinkin' of a change. But old Widder Marlin, she needs the board money, and – well, here's where it is, Miss Hands; I don't know as she'd be real likely to get another boarder. I knew the Cap'n, you see, and he was always good to me aboard ship. But I'm full as much obliged to you," he added, with a very friendly look in his brown eyes, "for givin' it a thought. Bless your heart, this old carcass don't need much attention; it gets all it deserves, I presume likely, and more too.
"Well, I must be ramblin' along, I guess. I promised to pick up Miss Phrony at the Corners. She's been visitin' there to-day, and she'll think I'm lost for good. I tell you what it is, though, Miss Hands and boys; it's easier to turn in at this gate than what it is to turn out again, and I expect I shall be comin' in real often, if no objection is made."
"So do, Calvin! so do!" cried both twins together. Calvin looked at Mary Sands, and her eyes were as friendly as his own. "The oftener you come, Mr. Parks," she said, "the better I shall be pleased, for certin."
"Gitty up, hossy!" said Calvin. "We're late for supper now, and it don't do for me to get too sharp-set; there ain't likely to be more supper than what I can get away with. There's the store now, and there's Miss Phrony, sure enough, lookin' out for me. Now I put it to you, hossy; what was the object, precisely, of makin' a woman look like that? The ways is mysterious, sure enough. There's a plenty of material there for a good-lookin' woman, take and spread it kind o' different."
A tall, scraggy woman, with pale green eyes seeking each other across a formidable beak, and teeth like a twisted balustrade, greeted him with a reproachful look as he drove up to the corner store.
"Good afternoon, Miss Phrony," he said comfortably. "I expect I'm just a mite late, ain't I?"
"I should think you was!" replied the scraggy woman. "I've been waitin' full two hours, Cap'n Parks."
"Have!" said Calvin affably. "Now ain't that a sight! But it's a good thing you had such pleasant company to wait in; I'm glad of that. How do, Si? how do, Eph?" he nodded to two men who were leaning against the door-posts, chewing straws and observing the universe. "Any trade doin' with little Calvin to-day?"
"Nothin' only a box of wintergreen lozenges, I guess," said Si, the storekeeper. "Mebbe you might leave another box of broken," he added, after a glance in at his showcase. "Trade hasn't been real smart this week. You ain't goin' to charge me full price for them goods, are you, Cal?"
"If I took off anything," replied Calvin, "'twould be because you were so handsome, and that wouldn't be real good for your disposition, so I expect I shall have to deny myself the pleasure. Three dollars and ninety cents – thank you, sir! Now, Miss Phrony, if you're ready – these your bundles? Why, you've been buyin' out the store, I expect! Let me help you in; up she comes! So long, boys!"
"Think she'll get him?" said Si to Eph, as they watched the wagon disappearing down the road.
"I – don't – know!" replied Si slowly. "Sometimes I think he's as simple as he is appearin', and then again I have my doubts. But one thing's sure; she's goin' to do her darndest towards it!"
CHAPTER VII
MATCH-MAKING
"Cal!" said Mr. Sim.
"Wall!" said Calvin Parks. "That's poetry, Sim, or as nigh to it as you and me are likely to come."
"Quit foolin', Cal! I want to speak to you serious."
"Fire away!" said Calvin, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs.
"I want to know what you think of Cousin!" Mr. Sim went on.
Calvin sat up, and drew in his legs.
"She's all right!" he said shortly.
"Of course she's all right!" said Mr. Sim peevishly. "She wouldn't be here if she was all wrong, would she? I want to know what you think of her."
"I think she's a fine-appearin' woman!" said Calvin slowly. "And smart. And personable. A 1, clipper-built and copper-fastened, is the way I should describe your cousin if she was a vessel."
"You're right, Cal; you're right!" said Mr. Sim. "She's all that and more. She's agreeable, and she's capable, and she's savin', Calvin; savin'. Ma allers said, 'If the time comes when you have to marry, marry a saver!' she'd say."
Calvin said nothing. He felt the honest middle-aged blood mounting in his cheeks, but reflected comfortably that it would not show through the brown.
"Now, Cal," Mr. Sim went on; "a woman like that ain't goin' through life single."
"You bet she ain't!" said Calvin briefly; "you darned old weasel!" he added, but not aloud.
"She ain't no more than forty, and she don't look that. She's well fixed, too; she ain't no need to work, Cousin ain't; she come here to accommodate, you understand."
"I understand!" said Calvin; "you blamed old ferret!" Calvin was fond of finishing his sentences in silence.
"Now what I say is, – " and Mr. Sim leaned forward, and sank his voice to a whisper, – "What I say is, that woman ought not to go out of the family, Calvin Parks!"
Calvin grunted. A grunt may mean anything, and Mr. Sim took it for assent.
"Jes' so! That's what I'm sayin'. I knew you'd see it that way. Now, Calvin, I want you to help us."
A spark came into Calvin's brown eyes. "Help you!" he repeated. "What's the matter? Ain't you old enough to speak for yourself?"
"Not for myself, Calvin!" cried Mr. Sim. "No, no, no! for Sam'l! for Sam'l!"
"Well, I am blowed!" said Calvin Parks.
Mr. Sim leaned forward anxiously. "Don't you see, Cal?" he cried. "I ain't a marryin' man; that's plain to be seen. Sam'l was allers the one for the gals, you know he was. You remember Ivy Bell?"
Calvin nodded.
"Well, that's the way of it!" Mr. Sim continued. "His mind allers run that way; mine didn't. Besides, I ain't a well man; I ain't in no shape to marry, Calvin, no way in the world, if I wanted to, and I don't. Now, Calvin, I want you to kind of urge Sam'l on. We ain't speakin', Sam'l and me, you know that. I told you how 'twas, fust time you come round. Nothin' agin one another, only we don't like. So I can't urge him myself; and fust thing we know some outlandishman or other'll step in and kerry her off, and then where should we be, Sam'l and me? I ask you that, Calvin Parks. We're gettin' on, you know, Cal; we're five years good older than what you be, and we couldn't abide hired help, no way in the world. You urge Sam'l on to speak to Cousin, won't you now? I'd take it real friendly of you, Cal. I allers thought a sight of you, and so did Ma. 'Twould please Ma if you got a good woman for Sam'l, Cal. Say you'll think about it!"
"I'll think about it!" said Calvin Parks.
An hour later, Calvin was out in the barnyard, leaning over the pigsty, and looking at the finest hogs in the county. Mr. Sam pronounced them so, and he ought to know, Calvin thought. Calvin had never cared for hogs himself.
"You see them hawgs," said Mr. Sam with squeaking enthusiasm, "and you see the best there is. Take 'em for looks, or heft, or eatin', there's no hawgs can touch 'em in this county. I'll go further and say State. They're a lovely hawg, sir! that's what they are; lovely!"
"All black, be they?" asked Calvin, for the sake of saying something.
"All black!" said Mr. Sam. "I bought 'em off'n Reuben Hutch. They was Cousin's choice in the fust place. She likes 'em black; says they look cleaner, and I guess they do. I don't know as you've remarked it, Cal, but I think a sight of Cousin."
He cast a sly glance at Calvin, who again returned inward thanks for the solid brown of his cheeks.
"I should s'pose you might!" he said shortly.
"A sight!" repeated Mr. Sam emphatically. "You show me a smarter woman than that, Calvin Parks, and I'll show you a toad with three tails."
He paused, as if waiting for Calvin to avail himself of this handsome offer.
"Well!" said Calvin, rather morosely. "I ain't got no smarter woman to show. What are you drivin' at, Sam Sill?"
Mr. Sam's little eyes were twinkling, and his sharp features were twisting themselves into knots which were anything but becoming.
"Calvin," he said, "when I look at that young woman – at least not exactly young, but a sight younger than some, and all the better for it – what word do you think I use to myself?"
"I don't know!" said Calvin shortly.
Mr. Sam leaned back, and expanded his red flannel waistcoat.
"Take time, Cal!" he said kindly. "Find a good solid-soundin' word suitable to the occasion, and spit it out!"
"Look at here!" said Calvin, still more shortly. "I come out here to see your hogs, and I've seen 'em. I didn't come out to play guessin' games; if you've got anything to say to me, say it! If not, I'm goin' home."
Mr. Sam leaned forward, and poked Calvin in the ribs with a skinny forefinger.
"Matrimony's the word, Cal!" he said. "Holy matrimony! Ain't that a good word? ain't it suitable? ain't it what you might call providential? ain't it? hey?" He paused for a reply; but none coming, he went on.
"I made use of that word, Calvin, the fust time Cousin stepped across our thrishhold, four months back; and I've ben makin' use of it every day since then. Now, Cal, I want you to help me!"
"Help you!" repeated Calvin, mechanically.
"Help me!" repeated Mr. Sam. "If you can help me to bring about matrimony between Cousin and Simeon, – "
"What!" said Calvin Parks.
Mr. Sam stared. "Between Cousin and Simeon!" he repeated. "What did you think I said? You could be of assistance to me, Calvin. You know Sim and me ain't havin' any dealin's jest at present, and direckly you come along I says to myself, 'Calvin,' I says, 'is the one who can be of assistance to me.'"
"I thought 'twas you was goin' to marry her!" said Calvin grimly.
"Me, Cal? no! no! What put that into your head?" and Mr. Sam screwed his features afresh, and shook his head emphatically. "I admire Cousin, none more so; but if I was marryin', – and I don't say but I shall, some day, – I should look out for something jest a mite more stylish. But there's plenty of time, plenty of time. Besides, I want to travel, Calvin. I want to see something of the world. Here I've sot all my days, and never ben further than Bangor. Ma never held with the notion of folks goin' out of the State of Maine. 'If folks want to go to Massachusetts,' she'd say, 'they'd orter be born there.' Now, no disrespect to Ma, you understand, Cal, but that ain't my idee. I want to go to Boston, and maybe New York. I dono but I might go out west and locate there. But there's the farm, you see, Cal, and there's Simeon. Sim ain't a man that's fit to travel, nor yet he ain't able to see to things as should be. But if he and Cousin was man and wife, don't you see, the two of 'em could get on fust-rate, and I could go off. You see how 'tis, Calvin, don't you?"
Calvin Parks turned upon him with a flash.
"What makes you think she'd be seen dead with either one of you two squinny old lobsters?" he asked fiercely.
Mr. Sam stared again.
"A woman, Calvin, wants a home!" he said solemnly. "Anybody can see that. Cousin has money in the bank, and she's owner of a schooner, but she has no home. I expect she'd have married Reuben if he'd been anyways agreeable to marry. He expected she would, sure as shootin'; lotted on it, they say. But take a man with one eye and that rollin', and snug, and a bad disposition, why, it ain't no great of an outlook for a woman, even if the farm was better than it is. Anyways, she wouldn't look at him, and that's how she come here. Now here," – he waved his hand in a circle. "Look around you, Calvin Parks! Where is she goin' to find a home like this? for stock, or for truck, or for sightliness, there ain't its ekal in the county. There ain't its ekal in the State. Now, Cal, I'm a fair-minded man. A woman brought this farm up to what it is. Ma done it, sir! I don't say but Sim and me done our best since we growed up, but Ma done the heft on't, and it needs a woman now. It needs a woman, Calvin, and Cousin needs a home; and I'm of the opinion that she won't get such a bad bargain, even with Simeon thrown in. There's no harm in Simeon, Cal, not a mite!"
"Not a mite!" Calvin echoed mechanically.
"Now," – Mr. Sam drew himself up, and tapped Calvin on the shoulder. "I want you to help me, Calvin Parks!"
Calvin growled, but a growl may mean anything. Mr. Sam took it for assent.
"That's right!" he said. "That's it, Calvin. You talk to Cousin, and tell her about the farm, and kinder throw in a word for Sim now and then. Why, he's a real good fellow, Sim is, when he ain't a darned fool. They'd get on fust-rate. And you talk to him, too, when she's out of the way! Tell him he needs a woman of his own, and like that. Mebbe you might drop a hint about my goin' away, if you see a good openin'; why, you're jest the one to make a match, with your pleasant ways, kind o' jokin' and cheerful. Make her feel as if she wanted a man of her own, too. Think about it, Cal! Say you'll think about it!"
"I'll think about it!" said Calvin Parks.
CHAPTER VIII
"PLAYING S'POSE"
Calvin did think about it. He thought about it as he drove out of the yard, and it was a grave salute that he waved to Mary Sands, smiling on the door-step in her blue dress, with the low sun glinting on her nut-brown hair.
He thought about it on the road; and hossy missed the usual fire of cheery remarks, grew morose, and jogged on half asleep. He was still thinking about it, when he came to a narrow lane that branched off from the main road, some half a mile from the Sill farm. It was a pretty lane, but it had a deserted look, and there were no wheel-marks on its grass and clover. Coming abreast of this opening, Calvin checked the brown horse with a word, and sat for some time looking thoughtfully down the lane. It ended, a few hundred yards away, in an open gateway; there was no gate. Beyond stood some huge old maple trees, which might hide anything – or nothing.
"Want to go in, hossy?" asked Calvin. He flicked hossy on the ear, but his tone was not the usual one of friendly banter. Hossy shook his head.
"Might as well!" said Calvin. "I've kep' away so fur, but it's there, you know, hossy, all the same. Gitty up!"
Thus urged, the brown horse jogged slowly up the grassy lane, snatching now and then at the tall grass as he went. Passing through the empty gateway, they came to the maple trees, and saw – only one of them knew before – what they hid. A yawning hole in the ground; at one side of it a well, its covering dropping to pieces, its sweep fallen on the ground; behind, a tangle of bushes that might once have been a garden. In front, almost on the edge of the hole, some long blocks of granite lay piled one atop of the other; these had been the door-steps, when there was a door.
Calvin Parks sat silent for a long time looking at these things. Then, – "Hossy," he said, "look at there!"
Hossy looked; saw little that appealed to him, and fell to cropping the grass.
"What did I tell you?" said Calvin, addressing some person unseen. "Even the dumb animal won't look at it. Hossy, what do you think of this place, take it as a place? Speak up now!"
Hossy, flicked on the ear, shook himself fretfully, whinnied, and returned to his cropping.
"Nice home to offer a woman?" said Calvin. "Cheerful sort of habitation? Hey? Well, there! you see how 'tis yourself. A rolling – stone – gathers – no – moss, little hossy."
As he spoke he was climbing down from his perch; now he threw the reins over the brown horse's neck, and walking to the edge of the empty cellar-place, sat down on one of the granite blocks.
"But I want you to understand that I warn't born rollin'!" he continued with some severity. "If you think that, hossy, you show your ignorance. I was a stiddy boy, and a good boy, as boys go. Mother never made no complaint, fur as I know. Poor mother! if I'm glad of anything in this mortal world, it's that mother went before the house did. That old lobster was right, darn his hide! a woman has to have a home. Poor mother! She thought a sight of her home and her gardin. I can't but scarcely feel she must be round somewheres, now; pickin' gooseberries, most likely. Sho! gooseberries in October! well, butternuts, then! The old butternut tree warn't burned. Hossy, I tell you, it seems as though if I was to turn round this minute I should expect to see mother's white apurn – "
He turned as he spoke, and stopped short. Something white glinted behind the withered bushes of the garden plot.
Calvin Parks sat motionless for a moment, gazing with wide eyes. A cold finger traced his spine, and his heart thumped loud in his ears. The something white seemed to move – a swaying motion; and now a soft voice began to croon, half speaking, half singing.
"I'd – I'd like to know what you are scairt of!" said Calvin Parks, addressing himself. "You might put a name to it. It would be just like mother, wouldn't it, to come back if it was anyways convenient, and see to them butternuts? Well, then! You wouldn't be scairt of mother, would you? I've no patience with you. The dumb critter there has more spunk than what you have."
The brown horse had raised his head, and his ears were pointed toward the something white that glinted through the bushes.
Another instant, and Calvin rose, and casting a scared look at the brown horse, made his way with faltering steps round the cellar-hole and put aside the bushes.
A small girl in a white pinafore cowered like a rabbit under a straggling rose-bush, and looked up at him with wide eyes of terror. Calvin's eyes, which had been no less wide, softened into a friendly twinkle.
"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 grass 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 passed 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."