The Wooing of Calvin Parks

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCING THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

"If I'm not mistaken," said Calvin Parks, "this is the ro'd where Sam and Sim used to live!"

He checked his horse and looked about him. "And there – well, I'm blowed if that ain't the house now. Same old pumpkin-color; same old well-sweep; same old trees; it certinly is the house. Well!"

He looked earnestly at the house, which seemed to give him a friendly look in return; a large, comfortable yellow house, with windows of cheerful inquiry, and a door that came as near smiling as a door can. Two huge elms mounted guard over it, and touched tips with a group of splendid willows that clustered round the ample barnyard; the front yard was green and smooth, with a neat flagstone path; a vast and friendly-looking dog lay on the broad door-step; everything about the place looked comfortable and sociable.

"If that ain't a pictur'," said Calvin Parks, "I never see one, that's all."

He drove into the yard, and clambered rather slowly out of his wagon. He was a tall, light-limbed, active-looking man, but the wheels seemed to be in his way.

"I never shall get used to this rig," he muttered; "I'd ought to have a rope and tayckle to hi'st me out."

He cast a disapproving look at the wagon, and hurried toward the house. The vast dog rose, shook himself, yawned, and sniffed approvingly at his trousers.

"That's right, son!" said Calvin. "A friend is a friend, in pants or tails! Now let's see where the boys be. I must wipe my feet good, though, or I shall have the old lady after me!"

He opened the front door; and after casting a look of friendly recognition round the hall, tapped on the door at his left.

"Come in!" said a voice.

"Sam!" said Calvin Parks; and he stepped into the room.

"How are you, Sam?" he began. "How are you – why, where's Sim?" he added in an altered tone. "Where's your Ma?"

A little man in snuff-brown clothes, with a red flannel waistcoat, came forward.

"Calvin Parks," he said, "don't tell me this is you!"

"I won't!" said Calvin. "I'll tell you it's old John Tyseed if that'll do you any good. What I want to know is, where's the rest of you? Don't tell me there's anything happened to your Ma and Sim, Sam Sill!"

The little man cast a curious look toward a door that stood ajar not far from where he sat. He was silent a moment, and then said in a half whisper, "Ma is gone, Calvin!"

"Gone!" repeated the visitor. "What do you mean by gone?"

"Dead!" said the little man. "Departed. No more."

"Sho!" said Calvin Parks. "Is that so? Well, I'm sorry to hear it, Sam! And I'm – well, astounded is the word. Your Ma gone! Well, now! she was one, somehow or other of it, never seemed as if she could go."

"I expect," said Mr. Samuel Sill in the same subdued tone, "she is with the blessed;" he reflected a moment, and added, "and with father!"

"To be sure! naturally!" said Calvin Parks reassuringly. "How long since you laid her away, Sam?"

"We laid her away," said Sam, "a year ago, Calvin. She'd been poorly for a long spell, droopin' kind of; nothing to take a holt of. Kep' up round and done the work, but her victuals didn't relish, nor yet they didn't set. She knew her time was come. She said to me and – the other one," (again he cast a curious look toward the open door), "sittin' in this very room – 'Boys,' she says, 'my stummick is leavin' me; and without a stummick I have no wish to remain, nor yet I don't believe it would be wished. I expect I am about to depart this life.'"

"I want to know!" murmured Calvin Parks sympathetically. "She come as close to it as that, did she?"

"About twice't a week," the little man continued, "she'd call us to come in after she was in bed, and say she'd most likely be gone in the mornin', and to be good boys, and keep the farm up as it should be. First for a time we tried to reason her out of it like, for the Lord didn't seem in no hurry, nor yet we weren't; but one night she seemed set on it, told us goodbye, and all the rest of it. 'Well, mother!' I says, 'if you see father, tell him the hay's all in!' I says. Sure enough, come morning she was gone. Cut down like a – well!" he paused again and reflected. "I don't know as you'd call Ma exactly a flower, nor yet was she what you'd call real fruity, though ripe."

"Call it grain!" said Calvin Parks gravely. "First crop oats, or good winter wheat; either of them, Sam, would represent your Ma good. Well, I certinly am astounded to find that she is gone. But that don't tell me the rest of it, Sam. Where's Sim?"

"Sim," replied the little man, turning his eyes toward the open door; "Sim is – "

At this moment a singular sound came from beyond the door; a sound half cough, half call, and all cackle.

"That's Sim!" said Mr. Sam. "You'll find him in there!"

Calvin Parks's large brown eyes seemed to grow quite round; he stared at the little man for a moment; then "Red-top and timothy!" he muttered; "there's something queer here!" and stepped quickly into the other room.

A stranger would have said, here was a juggler's trick. The little snuff-colored man sitting hunched in the low chair was apparently the same man, but he had changed his red waistcoat for a black one, and had whisked himself in some unaccountable way into another room. But Calvin Parks knew better.

"How are you, Sim?" he said.

"Calvin," said the second little man, "I am pleased to see you, real pleased! Be seated! In regards to your question, I am middlin', sir, only middlin'."

Calvin Parks sat down, his eyes still round and staring. "What's the matter?" he asked abruptly.

"Some thinks it's lumbago," said the little man; "and more calls it neurology. There is them," he added cautiously, "as has used the word tuber-clossis; I don't hold with that myself, but I'm doctorin' for all three, not to take no chances."

"All that be blowed!" said Calvin Parks. "What's the matter between you two? Why are you sittin' here and Sam in t'other room, you that have set side by side ever since you knew how to sit? Siamese Twins you've been called ever since born you was; dressed alike, fed alike, and reared alike; and now look at you! What's the matter, I say?"

The little man cast a look toward the door, a duplicate of the look which Calvin Parks had seen cast from the other side of it. Then he leaned forward, and fixed his sharp gray eyes on his visitor.

"Calvin Parks," he said, "you never was a twin!"

"No, I warn't!" said Calvin Parks.

The little man waved his hand. "That's all I've got to say!" he said. "We was. That's the situation. I've nothin' against Samuel, nor he as I knows on against me; but we have had a sufficiency of each other, and we are havin' us a rest, Calvin. We eat together, but otherwise we don't. But I'll tell you one thing," he added, leaning forward and dropping his voice, while his eyes narrowed to pinpoints. "When I don't like a man, I don't like him any better for bein' twin to me, I like him wuss!"

He leaned back again, and then repeated aloud, "Not that I've anything against Samuel, or fur as I know, Samuel against me."

"Well! may I be scuttled," said Calvin Parks, "if ever I see the beat of this! Why, Sim Sill – "

At this moment another door opened behind him, and a clear, pleasant voice said,

"Dinner's ready, Cousin Sim! Cousin Sam, dinner's ready!"

Mr. Simeon Sill made a gesture of introduction. "Calvin," he said, "let me make you acquainted with my cousin Miss Sands!"

Calvin Parks rose and made his best bow. "Miss Hands," he said, "I am pleased to meet you, I'm sure!"

CHAPTER II

BROTHERLY WAYS

"You'll stay to dinner, Cal?" said Mr. Sim.

"Calvin, you'll eat dinner with us?" cried Mr. Sam.

Calvin Parks looked at Miss Sands, and saw hospitality beaming in her face.

"Thank ye, Sim;" he said, "I'm obliged to you, Sam; I'll stay with pleasure, Miss Hands!"

It was a singular meal. Mary Sands sat at the head of the table, with all the dishes before her, and helped the three men largely to the excellent boiled dinner. Calvin Parks faced her at the foot, and the twins sat on either side. They talked cheerfully with their visitor and Miss Sands, but did not address each other directly.

Calvin remarked upon the excellence of the beef. "Fancy brisket, ain't it?" he asked.

"Yes!" replied Mr. Sim. "It's the best cut on the critter for cornin'."

Mr. Sam looked at his cousin. "Tell him I don't agree with him!" he said.

"Cousin Sim, Cousin Sam don't agree with you!" said Mary Sands placidly.

"Tell him the aitch bone is better!" continued Mr. Sam with some heat.

"He says the aitch bone is better!" repeated Mary Sands.

"Tell him it ain't!" said Mr. Sim.

"Cousin Sim says it ain't, Cousin Sam," said Mary, "and that's enough on the subject."

She spoke with calm and cheerful authority; the twins glowered at the corned beef in silence.

"Speakin' of critters," said Calvin Parks hastily, "how many head are you carryin' now, boys?"

There was no reply. Looking at Miss Sands, her eyes directed his glance to Mr. Sam.

"How many head are you carryin', Sam?" he repeated.

"Twenty!" replied Mr. Sam.

"That's a nice herd," said Calvin. "Hereford, be they?"

"Holstein!" said Sam. "They're the best milkers, and the best beef critters too."

Mr. Sim looked at Mary Sands with kindling eyes. "Tell him it ain't so!" he said. "Tell him he knows better!"

"Cousin Sim says it ain't so, and you know better, Cousin Sam," said Mary Sands.

"Tell him he knows wuss!" grunted Mr. Sam.

"Cousin Sam says you know wuss, Cousin Sim, and that will do!" said Mary Sands quietly.

It was the same at dessert. Calvin praised the admirable quality of the pie.

"Now this," he said, "is my idee of a squash pie. It isn't slickin' up and tryin' to look like custard, nor yet it don't make believe it's pumpkin; it just says, 'I am a squash pie, and if there's a better article you may let me know.'"

"I'm real pleased you like it," said Mary Sands modestly; "it's Cousin Lucindy's recipe. She must have been a master hand at pies."

"She certinly was!" said Mr. Sam. "Squash and pumpkin and cranberry, Ma was fust-rate in all; but mince was her best holt."

"Tell him it warn't," said Mr. Sim, fixing his cousin with a burning eye. "Tell him her apple bet it holler."

"Cousin Sim says it warn't, Cousin Sam, and her apple bet it holler," repeated Mary Sands cheerfully.

"Tell him he's a turnip-head!" said Mr. Sam.

"I don't repeat no calling names," said Mary Sands. "Mr. Parks, will you have some more of the pie? Cousin Sam, another piece? Cousin Sim? well, then, the meal is finished, Cousins!"

Each twin, as he rose from the table, cast a glance of invitation at Calvin Parks; but he hastily seized a dish. "I'm going to help Miss Hands clear off," he said; and he followed Mary Sands into the kitchen.

"Oh! Mr. Parks," said Mary, "you no need to do that! I'm well used to washing dishes!"

"I should suppose you was," responded Calvin Parks gallantly, "but if you'll let me help, Miss Hands, it would be an accommodation, now it would. Fact is," he continued, "I expect I shall bust if I don't find out what this all means, and I want you to tell me. How long have the boys been actin' this way?"

"How long?" repeated Mary Sands. "Ever since I come. Haven't they always been so?"

"Always been so?" repeated Calvin Parks. "Why, Miss Hands – why – " he looked about him helplessly. "Well, I am blowed!" he said plaintively. "I'll have to ask you to excuse the expression, Miss Hands, but I really am! Perhaps I'd better tell you how things used to be in this house, and then you can see how – how blowed I am at findin' them as they be."

"I should be real pleased if you would!" said Mary Sands. "I've been wonderin' and wonderin', ever since I come, but there's no near neighbors, you know, and I don't know as I should have cared to ask 'em if there had been; but you are a friend of both, I see, and it seems different."

"I'll wash to your wipin'," said Calvin Parks, taking off his coat and rolling up his shirt sleeves, "and we can talk as we go; I'm an old hand at dishes too. Well! Friend of both? well, I should remark! I lived on the next ro'd, not more'n half a mile across lots. You might have seen a burnt cellar hole? – Well, that was our home. First I remember of Sam and Sim was them sittin' together in their chair. 'Twas a queer chair, made o' purpose to hold the two of 'em. There they set, and tell 'tother from which was more than I could do, or anybody else for that matter, except their Ma. They might ha' been nine then, and I s'pose I was four or five. I rec'lect I went up to 'em and says, 'Be you one boy cut in two?' Cur'us things children are, sure enough. They was dressed alike, then and always; fed alike, and reared alike, every human way of it. Doctored alike, too, poor young ones! One time when they was babies the wrong one got the medicine, and after that Ma Sills always dosed 'em both, whichever was sick. 'There's goin' to be no partiality!' she says; 'the Lord made them children off the same last, and they're goin' to stay the same!' Why, Miss Hands, she wouldn't so much as allow they could think different. If they got to scrappin', same as all boys do, y'know, Ma would take 'em by the scruff of their necks and haul 'em up to the looking-glass. 'Look at there!' she'd say. 'Do you see them boys? do you see the way they look? Now I give you to understand that your souls inside is just as much alike as your bodies outside. I ain't sure but it's two halves of the same soul,' she'd say, 'and do you think I'm goin' to let 'em quarrel? You make up and love each other pretty right away, or I'll take the back of the hairbrush to you both!'

"So they'd make up; they had to! There! Ma Sills certinly did rule the roost, and no mistake. She'd been a widder ever since the boys were a year old, so she had to do for herself and them, and she done it. She was a master hand; a master hand!"

He shook his head, and washed the platter vigorously.

"Did it keep on that way after they grew up?" asked Mary Sands.

"Did it?" repeated Calvin. "Yes, it did! Neither one of 'em could stand against their Ma. Folks thought the boys would marry, and that would break it up like, but Ma wouldn't have that. 'When I find two girls as much alike as they is boys,' she'd say, 'we'll talk about gettin' married; till then they're wife enough for each other.'

"That was when Sam was takin' notice of Ivy Bell. She was a girl from Vermont, come visitin' Ammi Bean's folks; her mother was sister to Ammi. She was a pretty, slim little creatur', and I expect Sam thought she was all creation for a spell; but she never could tell him from Sim, and Sim didn't take to her no way, shape or manner. That suited their Ma first rate, and she'd take a day when Sam was off to market, and then she'd send Sim on an errant down to Bean's. I rec'lect I was there one day when he come, – I guess I was some taken with Ivy myself, for she was a pretty piece. When she see him she begun to roll her eyes and simper up the way gals do – I ask your pardon, Miss Hands! I don't mean all gals, nor I shouldn't want you to think it."

"Thank you, Mr. Parks!" said Mary demurely; "I won't!"

"Well, she did," said Calvin; "no two ways about that. 'Good mornin', Mr. Sills,' she says, 'was you wishin' to see anyone?'

"'Yes!' says Sim, 'I want to see Mr. Bean.'

"'He's down in the medder,' says Ivy; and then she kind o' hung down her head and looked up at him sideways. 'I don't suppose there's anyone else would do instead, Mr. Sills?'

"'No, there ain't!' says Sim; and off he legged it to the medder."

"My!" said Mary Sands, "What did she say to that?"

"Why, I snickered right out in meetin'," said Calvin. "I just couldn't help it; and she was so mad she whisked into the house and slammed the door in my face, and that was the last I saw of Ivy.

"But next time poor old Sam come along, slicked up for courtin', with his heart in his vest pocket all ready to hand out, why, he got the door in his face, too, and had to start in all over again. Well, sir – I beg your pardon, ma'am, or I should rather say miss – that was pretty much the way things was when I quit home, and that was pretty much the way I expected to find 'em when I come back. It didn't seem as if a trifle of fifteen years was going to make much difference in Ma Sill, nor yet in Sam and Sim; they seemed sort of permanent, don't you know, like the old well-sweep, or the big willows. I s'pose when Ma was laid away the boys commenced to feel as if they was two minds as well as two bodies. You don't know what started them actin' this way?"

Miss Sands reflected a moment.

"I shouldn't be surprised," she said, "if it was their vests."

"Their vests?" repeated Calvin.

"Yes! You noticed Cousin Sam had on a red one and Cousin Sim a black one? Well – but suppose I tell you my end of it, Mr. Parks, just as it come to me."

"I should be fairly pleased to death if you would!" said Calvin Parks. "That's what I've been layin' for right along. Yes, I spotted them vests first thing, I guess it's the first stitch ever they had on that was anyways different. Well! you was going to say?"

Mary Sands was silent a moment, gazing thoughtfully at the blue platter she held.

"I'm a lone woman!" she said at last. "I was an only child, and parents died when I was but young. I've kept house these ten years for my uncle over to Tupham Corners. He was a widower with one son, and a real good man; like a father to me, he was. Last year he died, and left the farm to Reuben, – that was his son, – and the schooner, a coasting schooner he was owner of, to me. I expect he thought – " she paused, and a bright color crept into her warm brown cheek; "well," she continued, "anyhow, Reuben and I didn't hit it off real well, and I left. I was staying with friends when a letter come from Cousins statin' their Ma had passed away and would I come to keep house for them. I'd never visited here, but Cousin Lucindy was own cousin to my mother, and we'd met at conference and like that, but yet I'd never seen the boys. Well, I thought about it a spell, and I thought I'd come and try, and if we suited, well and good, and if not there'd be no bones broke. So I packed up and come over by the stage. Well!"

She stopped to laugh, a little mellow tinkling laugh. "I guess I sha'n't forget my first sight of Cousins. I come up the steps kind of quiet. The door stood open, and I knocked and waited a minute, hearin' voices; then I stepped inside the hall. The front sittin'-room door was open too, and Cousins was standin' back to it, them same brown backs, each one the other over again, and one of them was holdin' a red vest in each hand. I coughed, but they didn't hear me, and he went right on speakin'.

"'Ma bought this red flannel at the bankrupt sale,' he said. 'She allowed 'twould keep us in vests and her in petticuts and thro't bandages for ten years, and I'm not going to begin to waste the minute she's under ground. She would say, "you go on wearin' them vests!" and I'm goin' to.'

"'She wouldn't!' said the other. 'She'd say, "you go on wearin' the coat and pants, but if you are in mournin' for me, show it by puttin' on a black vest, as is no more than decent."'

"'I can mourn just as well in red flannel as what I can in black!' says the first one.

"'You can't!' says the other.

"'I'll show you whether I can or not!' says the first.

"And at that they turned face to face to each other and sideways to me, and each riz up his right arm – honest, Mr. Parks, I couldn't believe but 'twas the same person and him reflected in a mirror, they was so like. I thought they was goin' to strike each other, so I stepped forward and said, 'Good mornin', Cousins; I've come!'"

Again she tinkled a laugh. "You never see men more surprised than what they was; but they shook hands real pleasant, made me welcome, and then walked one off one way and one the other, and so it has remained. At first they wanted to eat in different rooms, but I told 'em I couldn't have that, nor yet I couldn't have no quarrellin', so now we get on real pleasant, as you see. But isn't it comical? There! when I see them – "

At this moment a prolonged cough was heard from the direction of the sitting-room; and at the same time a thin high voice called, "Calvin! you got lost, or what?"

"Cousins are gettin' uneasy!" said Mary Sands. "You'd best go in, Mr. Parks, and I'm a thousand times obliged to you for helpin' me with the dishes. You are an elegant washer, I must say."

"Miss Hands," replied Calvin Parks as he drew on his coat, "the man who wouldn't wash good to such wipin' as yours wouldn't deserve to eat out of a dish. The thanks is on my side for enjoyin' the privilege."

CHAPTER III

CALVIN'S STORY

Passing from the kitchen into the back sitting-room, Calvin found Mr. Sim hunched in his chair, looking injured.

"I didn't know but you had gone without comin' in," he said; "seems to me you've ben a long time with them dishes."

"They're handsome dishes!" replied Calvin. "You wouldn't have me hurry and risk droppin' of them, would you? Well, Sim, I s'pose I must be joggin' along."

"What's your hurry? what's your hurry?" cried Mr. Sim peevishly. "I didn't have no chance to talk at dinner, there was so much clack goin' on;" and he cast a baleful glance at the doorway. "I want to know where you've ben and what you've ben doin' all these years, Calvin. Sit down and fill your pipe, and let's hear about it."

Calvin looked about him. "Well!" he said slowly, "I don't know as there's any such drivin' hurry. Hossy'll be pleased to stay a bit longer, I reckon;" he glanced out of the window at the fat brown horse, who was munching oats sleepily.

"Want to hear where I've been, do you, Sim? All right! Where shall I set? Sam'll want to hear too, won't he?"

"Yes!" cried Mr. Sam from the other room. "Certin' I do, Calvin, certin' I do."

"Well, how about this? Come on into the front room, Sim!"

"No! no!" cried Mr. Sim hastily. "I allus set here, Calvin. You might set in the doorway," he added, "then the other one could hear too."

"Well, of all the darned foolishness ever I heard of!" said Calvin Parks. "Say, boys, how old was you last birthday? Was it fifty, or only five? Mebbe I was mistaken!"

Standing in the doorway, which he seemed to fill with his stalwart sunburnt presence, he looked from one twin to the other, half amused, half indignant. The brothers shuffled their feet and wriggled in their chairs. Their motions were identical, and the furtive glance which Mr. Sam cast at Calvin was mirrored by Mr. Sim. "I can hear fust rate if you sit there, Cal!" said both brothers together.

Calvin Parks pulled a chair into the doorway, and tilted it at a convenient angle. Again he looked from one twin to the other.

"If your Ma was here – " he said slowly; "but there! She ain't, and that's all there is to it. Well, I'm here anyhow, ain't I? and you want to know how I come here. Well, I come behind hossy. Whose hossy? My hossy, and my waggin. Good enough hossy, good enough waggin; but defend me from that way of gettin' about! Land is good to live on: take a farm like this now; I admire it, and barrin' tomfoolishness, I call you two lucky fellows; but come to gettin' about, give me water. This rumblin' and joltin' about over clay ro'ds, and climbin' in and out over a great wheel, and like as not hossy startin' up just as you've got your leg over and throwin' of you into the ro'd – what I say is, darn it all! And think you might be slippin' along in a schooner, and the water lip-lappin', and the shore slidin' by smooth and pleasant, and no need to say 'gerlong up!' nor slap the reins nor feed her oats – I tell you, boys, I get so homesick for it I think some days I'll chuck the whole concern."

"What concern?" inquired Mr. Sam. "You appear to me to ramble in your talk, Calvin, same as you allus did. Ma allus said you was a rambler in your talk and a rover in your ways, and you'd never settle down till you married."

"She did, did she?" said Calvin musing. "I expect she was about right. Well – you see," he cast an apologetic glance at Mary Sands, who had come in quietly and sat down with her sewing in the front room, "I've always laid it to some to the fire. Look at your house here, boys!" he gave a wistful glance round the two bright, tidy, cheerful rooms. "If I had a home like this, would I be a rover? I guess not! I guess I shouldn't need no cobbler's wax on the seat of the chair to hold me down; but if all you had come home to was an empty cellar hole, not a stick nor a stitch – nothing was saved, you remember, – why, you might feel different. I took to the coastin' trade, as you know, and the past ten years I've been master of the 'Mary Sands, Bath and Floridy with lumber.'"