"You might shet the other too, if you don't mind!" he said. "Thank ye! Have you seen Simeon this mornin', Calvin?"
"Not yet," said Calvin. "I come straight in the front door and in here. What's the matter? Ain't he all right?"
"Simeon is failin'!" replied Mr. Sam. "He's failin' right along, Calvin. I expect this is the last Christmas he'll see on earth. I—I was down street yesterday," he added, after a solemn pause, "and it occurred to me he hadn't had a new pair of slippers for a dog's age. I thought I'd get a pair, and mebbe you'd give 'em to him."
"Mebbe I'd stand on my head!" retorted Calvin. "Give 'em to him yourself, you old catnip!"
"No! no, Calvin! no! no! I'd ruther you would!" said Mr. Sam anxiously. "I'd take it real friendly if you would, sir!"
"Well, we'll see!" said Calvin. "Hello! dressed up for Christmas, be ye?"
Mr. Sam looked down in some embarrassment. His red flannel waistcoat was replaced by a black one.
"We never made so much of Christmas as some," he said; "but yet Ma allers had us dress up for Christmas dinner, and I thought this seemed a mite more dress, you understand, Calvin. What say?"
"Looks first-rate!" said Calvin cheerfully. "You don't look a mite worse than you did before, as I see. Now I guess I'll step in and pass the time of day with Sim."
"Hold on jest a minute!" said Mr. Sam anxiously. "Hold on jest a half a minute, Cal! That ain't all I was wishful to say to you. Have you—I would say—have you approached that subject we was speakin' of a while back, to Cousin?"