"She—she won't give me the el'phant!" he said.
"What elephant? Cheer up, Lonzo! don't you cry, son; Christmas is comin', you know."
"You said—you said—if I cleaned the dishes all up good for Christmas I could take my pick, and I picked the el'phant, and she won't give it to me!"
At this juncture the pretty girl appeared, flushed and defiant.
"Mr. Cheeseman, he wants that big elephant, the handsomest thing in the window; and it's a shame, and he sha'n't have it. I offered him the one you made first, that got its leg broke, and he won't look at it. There's just as much eatin' to it, for I saved the leg."
"I don't want to eat it!" sobbed Lonzo. "I want to love it a spell fust."
Mr. Cheeseman looked grave. "Well!" he said, "we'll see, son! You stop cryin', anyhow."
He went into the shop, Calvin following him, and they looked over the low green curtain into the show-window. In the very centre, towering above the lions, camels and rabbits, stood a majestic white elephant fully a foot high. His tusks were of clear barley sugar; he carried a gilded howdah in which sat an affable personage with chocolate countenance and peppermint turban; the whole was a triumph of art, and Mr. Cheeseman gazed on it with pride, and Calvin with admiration.
"It's the handsomest piece of confectionery I ever saw!" said Calvin with conviction.
"It is handsome, I'm free to confess!" said Mr. Cheeseman. "It cost me consid'able labor, that did. Take it out careful, Cynthy!"