wn
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?"

"What subject?" said Calvin Parks doggedly.

"Don't be cantankerous, Calvin! now don't!" said Mr. Sam. "It's
Christmas Day. The subject of matrimony, you know."

"I have!" said Calvin. "She won't look at him! She wouldn't look at him
if the only other man in the world was Job Toothaker's scarecrow, that
scared the seeds under ground so they never came up. There's your
answer!"

"Dear me sirs!" cried Mr. Sam, wringing his hands. "Dear me sirs! I
don't know what's goin' to become of us, Calvin, I reelly don't!"

"Well!" said Calvin; "I guess likely you'll werry through the day, Sam.
I know what's goin' to become of me; I'm goin' in to see Sim."

"Take the slippers, won't ye, Calvin?" cried Mr. Sam. "Tell him to wear
'em and save his boots. He's allers ben terrible hard on shoe-leather,
Simeon has."

Calvin took the slippers with a grunt, and went into the next room,
closing the door after him.

"Merry Christmas!" he cried. "How are you, Sim?"

"I'm obliged to you, Calvin; I am slim!" replied Mr. Sim. "I am unusual
slim, sir. Take a seat, won't you?"

"I said Merry Christmas!" Calvin remarked gruffly. "Can't you speak up
in the way of the season? Come, buck up, old timothy-grass! Merry
Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" echoed Mr. Sim meekly; "though if yo