do you think any woman _could_ make up her mind to
marry Cousin Sim?" said Mary.

Calvin gave her a bewildered look, and went on, still slowly and
laboriously.

"Not bein' a woman myself, ma'am, nor had any special dealin's with the
sex since I growed up, it ain't easy for me to form an opinion. But
since you ask me honest--well--maybe not! This brings us to Sam'l. Now
Sam'l is a man that has his faculties, such as they are. He has his
health, and he's smart and capable. A good farmer Sam has always been,
and a good manager. Careful and savin'; and there'd be the house, same
as in Simeon's case. Anybody would have them a good home, and--"

"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."

"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,
pincushi