expectantly; it was evident that more was coming.

Mr. Cheeseman began to stir the molasses with long, slow sweeps of the
spoon, talking the while.

"It was this way. My wife had a friend that she thought the world of.
Well, she thought the world of me too, and when it come time for her to
go, nothin' to it but I must marry this woman. The night before 'Liza
was taken, she says to me, 'Ivory,' she says, 'I've left it in writin'
that if you marry Elviry you'll get that two thousand dollars that's in
the bank; and if not it goes to the children.' Children was married and
settled, two of 'em, and well fixed. 'I want you to promise me you
will!' she says."

"And did you?" asked Calvin.

"No, I didn't. I warn't goin' to tie myself up again. I'd been married
thirty years, and that was enough."

"What _did_ you say, if I may ask?"

"I said I'd think about it, and let her know in the mornin'. I knew
she'd be gone by then, and she was."

Again they watched the boiling in silence. Calvin looked somewhat
disturbed.

"But yet you liked the married state?" he asked presently.

"Fust-rate!" said Mr. Cheeseman placidly. He glanced at Calvin; stirred
the candy, and glanced again.

"You ain't married, I think, friend Parks?"

"N--no!" said Calvin slowly. "I ain't; but--fact is, I'm wishful to be,
but I don't see my way to it."

"I want to know!" said Mr. Cheeseman. "Would you like to free your mind,
or don't you feel to? I'm not curious, not a mite; but yet there's times
when a person can tell better what he thinks if he outs with it to
somebody else. Like molasses! Take it in the cask, and it's cold, and
slow, and not much to look at; but take and bile it, and stir it good,
and--you see!"

The molasses boiled up in a fragrant geyser, threatening to overflow the
pot; but obedient to the spoon, fell away again in foamy ripples.

"Like that!" Mr. Cheeseman repeated. "If it would clear your mind any to
bile over, friend Parks, so do!"

Calvin glanced toward the corner. "Does he take much notice?" he asked.

"Lonzo? no! he's no more than a child. But yet 'tis time for him to go
home. Lonzo! dinner-time!"

The simpleton rose and shambled forward, a huge uncouth figure with a
face like a platter; not an empty platter now, though, for it was
wreathed in smiles. He held out the shining dish. "Done good?" he
asked.

"Elegant, Lonzo, elegant! you are smart, no mistake about that. Help
yourself to the cream candy! that squ