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 a.s.sistance 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 a.s.sistance 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 Ma.s.sachusetts,' 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 a.s.sent.

"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 gra.s.s 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 gra.s.sy lane, s.n.a.t.c.hing now and then at the tall gra.s.s as he went. Pa.s.sing 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 gra.s.s.

"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, b.u.t.ternuts, then! The old b.u.t.ternut 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 b.u.t.ternuts? Well, then! You wouldn't be scairt of mother, would you? I've no patience with you. The dumb critter there has more s.p.u.n.k 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.