Part 23 (2/2)

”I'm goin' back to the Mary Sands!” he said. ”She's in port, loadin' up with lumber for Floridy, and the skipper wants to make a change. I--I'll be glad to see the Mary again, and I expect they'll take me on; what say?”

”I expect they will!” said Mary dryly.

Then, all in a moment, she was laughing and crying on his shoulder.

”Calvin!” she cried. ”Calvin, you foolish creatur'! you don't need to go to Bath to find the Mary Sands. _I'm_ Mary Sands!”

”You!” said Calvin Parks.

She glanced up at him, and broke down again in laughter and tears.

”You needn't look like a stone image!” she cried. ”'Tis so! I've been Mary Sands right along. It sounded so comical your callin' me Hands, I wouldn't let Cousins tell you. If I've stopped them once I have twenty times. Besides, you was so mad at a woman's bein' owner of your schooner, I couldn't help but laugh every time I thought of it. I s'pose I've been foolish about it, but it's been a kind of play to me all this time. Calvin, you make me act real forth-puttin', but--if you _won't_ speak for yourself--there! will you be master of the Mary Sands, afloat and sh.o.r.e?”

She held out her hands with a pretty gesture. Calvin grasped them so hard that she cried out, and his face, white again under its brown, set in dogged lines of gentle obstinacy, the most hopeless kind.

”I can't!” he said. ”Mary, all the more I can't because you are a rich woman. You see that, don't you? I'm sure you must see that, Mary. Soon as ever I've aimed that money again--”

”Oh! plague take the money,” cried Mary, her patience giving way. ”Give it to the cat; she's fitter to take care of it than you are, Calvin Parks. There! you do try me. You ain't fit to live alone, no more than--and my goodness gracious me!” she cried, her voice changing suddenly; ”if I hadn't clean forgotten Cousins! Calvin, you've _got_ to stay by us, you've just plain and simple got to! Hus.h.!.+ hold your obstinate tongue and listen to me. Cousin Sam had an accident yesterday.

He was out with the old hoss of all, and they met the snow-plough, and if that old creatur' didn't leap over the stone wall and smash the sleigh to kindlin' wood! Cousin Sam's all stove up inside, he thinks, but I'm in hopes not. There's no bones broke, and I guess all he got was a good shakin' up; but anyway, he's in bed, and can't move hand or foot.

And I can't take care of him and Cousin Sim, and keep house, and see to the stock and poultry too, Calvin Parks; now I can't! I've _got_ to have help!”

At this moment a jingling of bells was heard outside; Mary stepped to the window. ”Who on earth comes here?” she exclaimed. ”Of all the queer-lookin' turnouts--do look here, Calvin!”

Calvin looked. In an old-fas.h.i.+oned high-backed sleigh, drawn by an ancient white horse, sat a little old man so wrapped in furs that only the tip of a frosty nose could be seen. He was waving whip and reins wildly, and shouting ”Somebody come! somebody come!”

”Gos.h.!.+” said Calvin Parks. He ran out, and Mary Sands followed him wondering.

”Mr. Cheeseman, I want to know if this is you!”

”I got it!” gasped the old man.

”You got it!” repeated Calvin. ”You've got your everlastin', I expect, out this time o' day at your age. You come in to the fire, sir!”

Without more ado, he lifted the old man in his arms, carried him bodily into the little room, and set him down in the chair. Mr. Cheeseman was still breathless with frost and excitement, and gasped painfully, his eyes starting from his head.

”I got it!” he repeated. ”I got it, Calvin!”

”Fetch your breath, old gentleman,” said Calvin soothingly. ”You ain't got that, anyway. What is it you have got? the rheumatiz?”

”The money!” cried the old candy-maker. ”Your money, friend Calvin, every cent of it, except what was spent, and that warn't much.”

Calvin stood as if turned to stone.

”What do you mean?” he faltered.

”I mistrusted all along!” cried Mr. Cheeseman. ”I kep' askin' myself all day yesterday, where did she get that money? I never slep' last night for askin' it. Suddin, along about four o'clock this mornin', by the livin' Jingo, I see the whole contraption. I got up that minute of time, hitched up old Major, and drove straight out there to tell you what I suspicioned. You warn't there. They was awake, the two of 'em, and scared at your bein' out all night as they thought, and when I called and knocked they come down, and a sight they was. Talk of witches!

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