The Wooing of Calvin Parks

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.'"