"Oh! my goodness!" cried Mary Sands. Calvin looked up with a start, and saw her face on fire.
"What is it?" he asked, helplessly.
"Oh! don't you see?" she cried. "I was thinkin' about them, poor old things, and wishin' they might find some one; but you've shown me the other side. Mr. Parks, they never, never, never could find any woman to marry them!"
Calvin Parks's face was a study of bewilderment.
"I—I don't understand!" he faltered. "Do you mean that you wouldn't—couldn't—fancy either one of the boys, Miss Hands?"
"Me!" cried Mary Sands; "me fancy one of them!"
Involuntarily she rose to her feet; Calvin rose too, looking anxiously down at her. There was a moment of tense silence. "Do—do you want me to marry one of them, Mr. Parks?" asked Mary, in a small shaking voice.
"Want you to?" cried Calvin Parks. "Want you to?"
At this moment Mr. Sam came round the corner. Mary Sands fled, and as she ran into the house there floated back from the closing door—was it a sound of laughter—or of tears?
"What in the name of hemlock is goin' on here?" asked Mr. Sam. "Calvin Parks, what are you about, treadin' of them tomaytoes under foot? You've creshed as much as a dozen of 'em under them great hoofs of your'n."