Part 12 (1/2)

”Do you see that?” he murmured, addressing the landscape. ”Do you call that handsome? because if you don't, you are a calf's-head, whatever else you may be.”

Mary Sands looked up, and her bright face grew brighter at sight of him.

”Oh, Mr. Parks!” she cried. ”I am glad to see you. I've been wis.h.i.+n' all the week you'd come by and stop in a bit. Now this is a pleasure, surely! Come right in!”

”Hold on, Miss Hands!” said Calvin, as she moved toward the door.

”Hold on just a minute. How about the tomaytoes?”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'HOLD ON, MISS HANDS!' SAID CALVIN, AS SHE MOVED TOWARD THE DOOR.”]

”Oh, they can wait!” said Mary. ”I was just turning 'em so they'd get the sun on all sides.”

”Ain't it remarkable late for tomaytoes?” asked Calvin. ”I dono as ever I see ripe ones at this season. I expect you can do what you like with gardin truck, Miss Hands, same as with most things.”

Mary blushed and twinkled.

”Oh, I don't know!” she answered. ”I've always had good luck with late vegetables. I do suppose I've kept these tomaytoes on later than common, though; I confess I'm rather proud of them, Mr. Parks. Cousins say I tend 'em like young chickens, and I don't know but I do. I put 'em out mornings, when 'tis bright and warm like this, and take 'em in before sundown, fear they'll get chilled. Anything ripens so much better in the sun.”

”I don't believe you've turned 'em all,” said Calvin. ”I should admire to set here a spell, if 'tis warm enough for you. I ripen better in the sun, too;” he twinkled at her. ”_Is_ it warm enough for you?” he added anxiously.

”My, yes!” said Mary Sands. ”Why, 'tis like summer in this bright sun, and this cellar door is warm as a stove. Well, if you're really a mind to help, Mr. Parks,--I'm sure you're more than kind.”

There was plenty of room on the cellar door for them and the tomatoes.

Calvin curled up his long legs under him, and gave his attention for several minutes to the Crimson Cus.h.i.+ons and Ponderosas, turning them with careful nicety.

”Pretty, ain't they?” he said; ”some of 'em, that is.”

”Real pretty!” said Mary Sands. ”I do enjoy them, Mr. Parks; 'tis a kind of play with me, tending my tomaytoes. I expect I'm foolish about growin' things.”

”I expect if there was more had your kind of foolishness,” replied Calvin, ”the world would be a better place than it is.”

”See this one!” Mary went on; ”for all the world like a red satin pincus.h.i.+on my grandmother used to have in her basket. 'Tis well named, the Crimson Cus.h.i.+on is.”

”Look at this feller,” said Calvin, ”all green and yeller, and squinnied up like his co't was too tight for him. It looks like the boys; honest now, don't it, Miss Hands?”

Mary tinkled a reproachful laugh.

”Now Mr. Parks, I wonder at you. Poor Cousins!”

”I ain't takin' up no collection for the boys!” said Calvin coolly.

”Where's Sam? I see the young colt is out.”

”He's gone to market; and Cousin Sims' in a dreadful takin', for fear he'll get run away with, or hove out, or something.”

Calvin stared. ”Why, the colt is ten year old if he is a day!” he said.

”I told him that; but he said it didn't make no odds, he'd never found out he was grown up, and acted accordin'. He werries terrible about Cousin Sam every time he goes out, and Cousin Sam werries about him. I notice it growin' on the two of 'em. Mr. Parks, I believe that down in their hearts them two are missin' each other more than tongue can tell, and neither one of them knows what's the matter with him.”

”You don't say!” said Calvin. ”Why don't they make up, then? Ridic'lous old lobsters!”