Part 2 (1/2)

”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 wis.h.i.+n' 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 st.i.tch 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 pa.s.sed 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.