"What story?" asked Calvin Parks.
"Why, your own story, to be sure. You told us how you was displeased at a woman's bein' owner of your schooner,—" her eyes twinkled mischievously,—"and how you come ashore and set up your candy route; but Cousins were just sayin' they didn't know where you lived, nor how you was fixed anyways, except that you had that nice hoss and waggin."
"That so?" said Calvin, musing. "Well, I don't know as there's any particklar story to the rest on't. I drive my route, you know; quite a ways it is; takes me about a week to git round it all. 'Tis pleasant doin's for the most part, only when it comes to gettin' in and out of this shay; that gits me every time. But I see the country, you know—pretty country it is; I never see a prettier,—and meet up with folks and all,—"
"Where do you reside?" inquired Mr. Sam. He had moved his chair near the door of Mr. Sim's sitting-room, where Calvin was, and now peered round the doorjamb, his body invisible, his little wizen face appearing as if hung in air.
"Great snakes, Sam!" exclaimed Calvin Parks. "Don't scare the life out of us. Where's the rest of you? No use your pretendin' to be one of them cherub articles, 'cause you don't look it, and don't let anyone deceive you into thinkin' you do. I live—if you call it livin',—down Tinkham way, about ten miles from here. I'm boardin' with Widder Marlin and her daughter. Ever hear of Phrony Marlin? Well, she's a case, Phrony is, and the old lady's another. Widder of a sea-cap'n that I sailed with in former days. She has a little home, and she lets me have a room. I don't know as the old lady is quite right in her mind—I don't know as either one of 'em is, come to think of it; and she ain't much of a cook; but as she says, it's only suppers and breakfasts, and it's all dust and ashes anyway. It ain't worth while to make trouble, and I git on first-rate."
"I'm afraid they don't make you real comfortable, Mr. Parks!" said Mary Sands. "I should think they might; I don't believe but what you do your part and more too."
"Well, I dono!" said Calvin simply. "I try to help out, split the wood, kerry water and like that; two lone women, ye know, no man belongin' to 'em; I wouldn't wish to let 'em feel forsaken any."
"Do they give you enough to eat?" inquired Mr. Sim.
"Oh, I guess so. They don't feed me any too high, but they don't live any higher themselves. Phrony has the dyspepsy—I dono as it's surprisin' that she should—and the old lady has an idee that eatin' is a snare of the evil one, and she gits along on next door after nothin', as you may say."
"The idea!" cried Mary Sands, indignantly. "Mr. Parks, why do you stay there? I wouldn't if I was you, not another day."