CHAPTER XVIII
MORNING
The sun was not yet up, but the sky was brightening in lovely pale tints, pearl and opal and rose, when Mary Sands opened the shed door and tripped lightly down the path to the barn. She unbarred the great doors, and entering the dim, fragrant place, was greeted by a five-fold whinny from the stalls, and a trampling of twenty friendly hoofs.
"Good morning, hossies!" she said cheerily. "I expect you're surprised to see me. I've got to get breakfast for all hands this mornin', and I'm goin' to begin with you. Mornin', colty! mornin', marey! mornin', John! mornin', old hoss! Oh! you naughty old hoss, who ever would have thought of your actin' that way at your time of life! I was surprised—my goodness! who's this in the box-stall? Calvin Parks's Hossy? What upon earth! Why, you darlin', where's your master?"
Hossy's explanations, though fervid, and accompanied by agreeable rubbings of a soft brown nose on her shoulder, were not lucid, and Mary gazed about her in bewilderment.
"You never run away, hossy?" she asked; "you wouldn't do that! Then—where is he?"
Just then a golden finger of sunshine slanted through the dusty window and fell on the harness-room door, which stood slightly ajar. Mary Sands ran to the door and peeped in. There, in the one chair tilted back, his feet on the stove, his head against the farther wall, sat Calvin Parks, sound asleep.
"Oh! you blessed creatur'!" cried Mary under her breath. She stood looking at him, taking swift note of his appearance.
"He's sick!" she said; "or he's been through the wars somehow. He looks completely tuckered out. There! he is not fit to be round alone, and that's the livin' truth. Oh dear! 'tis cold as a stone here; he'll get his death. Calvin! Mr. Parks! Wake up, won't you? Wake up!"