Part 17 (1/2)
”You might shet the other too, if you don't mind!” he said. ”Thank ye!
Have you seen Simeon this mornin', Calvin?”
”Not yet,” said Calvin. ”I come straight in the front door and in here.
What's the matter? Ain't he all right?”
”Simeon is failin'!” replied Mr. Sam. ”He's failin' right along, Calvin.
I expect this is the last Christmas he'll see on earth. I--I was down street yesterday,” he added, after a solemn pause, ”and it occurred to me he hadn't had a new pair of slippers for a dog's age. I thought I'd get a pair, and mebbe you'd give 'em to him.”
”Mebbe I'd stand on my head!” retorted Calvin. ”Give 'em to him yourself, you old catnip!”
”No! no, Calvin! no! no! I'd ruther you would!” said Mr. Sam anxiously.
”I'd take it real friendly if you would, sir!”
”Well, we'll see!” said Calvin. ”h.e.l.lo! dressed up for Christmas, be ye?”
Mr. Sam looked down in some embarra.s.sment. His red flannel waistcoat was replaced by a black one.
”We never made so much of Christmas as some,” he said; ”but yet Ma allers had us dress up for Christmas dinner, and I thought this seemed a mite more dress, you understand, Calvin. What say?”
”Looks first-rate!” said Calvin cheerfully. ”You don't look a mite worse than you did before, as I see. Now I guess I'll step in and pa.s.s the time of day with Sim.”
”Hold on jest a minute!” said Mr. Sam anxiously. ”Hold on jest a half a minute, Cal! That ain't all I was wishful to say to you. Have you--I would say--have you approached that subject we was speakin' of a while back, to Cousin?”
”What subject?” said Calvin Parks doggedly.
”Don't be cantankerous, Calvin! now don't!” said Mr. Sam. ”It's Christmas Day. The subject of matrimony, you know.”
”I have!” said Calvin. ”She won't look at him! She wouldn't look at him if the only other man in the world was Job Toothaker's scarecrow, that scared the seeds under ground so they never came up. There's your answer!”
”Dear me sirs!” cried Mr. Sam, wringing his hands. ”Dear me sirs! I don't know what's goin' to become of us, Calvin, I reelly don't!”
”Well!” said Calvin; ”I guess likely you'll werry through the day, Sam.
I know what's goin' to become of me; I'm goin' in to see Sim.”
”Take the slippers, won't ye, Calvin?” cried Mr. Sam. ”Tell him to wear 'em and save his boots. He's allers ben terrible hard on shoe-leather, Simeon has.”
Calvin took the slippers with a grunt, and went into the next room, closing the door after him.
”Merry Christmas!” he cried. ”How are you, Sim?”
”I'm obliged to you, Calvin; I am slim!” replied Mr. Sim. ”I am unusual slim, sir. Take a seat, won't you?”
”I said Merry Christmas!” Calvin remarked gruffly. ”Can't you speak up in the way of the season? Come, buck up, old timothy-gra.s.s! Merry Christmas!”
”Merry Christmas!” echoed Mr. Sim meekly; ”though if your laigs was as bad as mine, Calvin, you might think different. If I get through this winter--what you got there?”
”Slippers!” said Calvin. ”Christmas present from Sam. Wants you to wear 'em and save shoe-leather.”
”The failin's of Sam'l's mind,” said Mr. Sim gravely, ”are growin' on him ekal to those of his body. Shoe-leather! when I ain't stepped foot outside the door since Ma died. But they are handsome, certin; you may thank him for me, Calvin.”
”May!” said Calvin. ”That's a sweet privilege, no two ways about that.