Calvin looked. In an old-fashioned 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!"
"Gosh!" 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.