got her tone to the life, I tell
you."

"I always had the trick of followin' a voice," said Mary Sands modestly.
"And I remembered Cousin Lucindy's to Conference, for she used to speak
an amazin' deal. Oh! Mr. Parks, listen! do listen to them two poor old
creatur's!"

They listened. From the front room came a babble of talk, two voices
flowing together in a stream, pauseless, inseparable; so fast the stream
flowed, there seemed no time for breathing. But now, as the conspirators
listened, dish-cloth in hand and joy in their hearts, the voices ceased
for a moment, and then, with one consent, broke out into quavering,
squeaking, piping song.

"Old John Twyseed;
Old John Twyseed;
Biled his corn,
As sure's you're born,
And come to borrow my seed.

"Old John Twyseed,
Bought a pound o' rye seed;
Paid a cent,
And warn't content,
But thought 'twas awful high seed.

"Old John Twyseed,
Sold his neighbor dry seed;
Didn't sprout;
Says he 'Git out!
I thought 'twas extry spry seed!'"

CHAPTER XV

BY WAY OF CONTRAST

"I wish't you could stay to supper!" said Mary Sands.

"I wish't I could!" said Calvin. "I want you to understand that right
enough; and I guess you do!" he added, with a look that brought the
color into Mary's wholesome brown cheek. "But they plead with me kind o'
pitiful, and--honest, I'm sorry for them two women, Miss Hands. They
don't seem to be real pop'lar with the neighbors--I don't know just how
'tis, but so 'tis,--and they kind o' look to me, you see. You understand
how 'tis, don't you, Mary--I would say Miss Hands?"

"I expect I do, Mr. Parks!" said Mary gently, yet with some
significance.

Calvin looked down at her, and his heart swelled. An immense wave of
tenderness seemed to flow from him, enfolding the little woman as she
stood there, so neat and trim in her blue cashmere dress, her pretty
head bent, the light playing in the waves of her pretty hair.

"For two cents and a half," Calvin Parks said silently, "I'd pick you up
and carry you off this minute of time. You're my woman, and don't you
forget it!" Then he spoke aloud, and his voice sounded strange in his
ears.

"You and the boys," he said, "are always askin' me for stories. If--if I
should come and tell you a story some day--the very first day I had a
right to--that the boys warn't goin' to hear, nor anybody else but just
you--would you listen to it, Miss Hands?"

Mary's h