The Wooing of Calvin Parks

Transcriber's notes: Obvious printer errors have been silently corrected and hyphenated words have been standardized.


If I'm not mistaken, said Calvin Parks, this is the ro'd where Sam and Sim used to live!
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!