"That you, Sam?" said Calvin Parks. "How are you? I'd shut my mouth if I was you. You look handsomer that way than what you do with it open."
CHAPTER XI
CONCERNING TRADE
It was Christmas week, and East Cyrus was making ready for the festival. The butcher's shop was hung with turkeys and chickens, and bright with green of celery and red of cranberries and apples. The dry-goods store displayed in its window, beside the folds of gingham and "wool goods" and the shirt-waist patterns, a shining array of dolls and sofa-pillows, pincushions and knitted shoes; while the bookstore had all the holiday magazines, and a splendid assortment of tissue paper in every possible shade.
But delightful as all this was to the eyes of East Cyrus, there was one shop that so far outshone the rest that all day long an admiring group of children stood before it, gazing in at the window, and fairly goggling with wonder and longing. This was the shop of Mr. Ivory Cheeseman. Across and across the window were strings of silver tinsel, wonderful enough in themselves, but still more wonderful for the freight they bore; canes of every description, from the massive walking-stick that might have supported Lonzo's giant frame, down to dapper and delicate affairs no bigger than one's little finger; and all made of candy, red and white and yellow. That was a sight in itself, I should hope; but that was not all. The broad shelf beneath was covered with tinsel-sprinkled green, and here were creatures many, cats and lions and elephants, dromedaries and horses and turtles, all in clear barley sugar, red and yellow and white. Chocolate mice there were, too, bigger than the cats as a rule; and flanking these zoölogical wonders, row upon row of shining glass jars, containing every stick that ever was twisted, every drop that ever was dropped.
Inside, a long counter overflowed with the more recondite forms of goodies, caramels, and burnt almonds, chocolate creams and the like; behind this counter a pretty girl stood smiling, ready to dispense delight in any sugary form, at so much a pound.
In the kitchen behind the shop the little stove was glowing like a friendly demon, and beside the long table stood Mr. Cheeseman and Calvin Parks, deep in talk.
"Now you want," said the old man, "to get a good price for these goods, friend Parks. I'm lettin' you have 'em at wholesale price, because you're a man I like, and because I wish to see you well fixed and provided with a partner for life. Now here's your chance, and I'm goin' to speak right out plain. You're a good fellow, but you are not a man of business!"
"That's right!" murmured Calvin meekly. "That's straight, stem to stern."