CALVIN'S WATERLOO
Christmas Eve. All day a blaze of white and gold, softening now into
cold glories of rose and violet over the great snow-fields. The road,
white upon white, outlined with fringes of trees, and here and there a
stretch of stump fence, was as empty as the fields, the solitary sleigh
with its solitary occupant seeming only to emphasize the loneliness.
Calvin Parks looked down the long stretch of road into which he had just
turned, and gave a long whistle.
"Hossy," he said, "do you know what this ro'd wants? It wants society! I
don't know as it would be reasonable to expect a house, or even a barn,
but it does seem as if they might scare up a cow; what?"
Hossy whinnied sympathetically.
"Just so!" said Calvin. "That's what I say. Christmas Eve and all, it
does really appear as if they might scare up a cow. Not that she'd be
likely to trade to any great extent. What say? She'd buy as much as that
last woman did? That's so, hossy; you're right there. But we ain't
complainin', you and me, I want you to understand. We've done real well
this trip, and before we get our little oats to-night we'll work off
every stick in the whole concern, you see if we don't, and have money to
put in the bank, io, money to put in the bank. Gitty up, you hossy!" He
flourished his whip round the brown horse's head and whistled a merry
tune.
"Hello! What's up now?"
Some one was standing at the turn of the road ahead, waving to him; a
child; a little girl in cloak and hood, her red-mittened hands
gesticulating wildly.
"We're a-comin', we're a-comin'!" said Calvin Parks. "Git there just the
very minute we git there, you see if we don't. Why, Mittie May! you
don't mean to tell me this is you?"
"Oh! yes, please!" cried the child. "Oh! please will you come and see
Miss Fidely? oh! please will you?"
"There! there! little un; why, you're all out of breath. Been runnin',
have ye?"
"Oh, yes!" panted Mittie May. "I ran all the way, for fear I wouldn't
get here before you went by. Will you come and see Miss Fidely, Mr.
Candy Man?"
"Well!" said Calvin, "that depends, little gal. There's three p'ints I'd
like to consider in this connection and as touchin' this matter, as old
parson used to say. First, is Miss Fidely good-lookin' and agreeable
_to_ see? Second, does she anyways want to see me? Third, how far off
does she live? It's gettin' on towards sundown, and hossy and me have a
good ways to go before we get our oats."
"It's not far," said the child. "And she wants to see you terrible bad.
Her goods ain't come that she ordered, and the tree's all up, and the
boys and girls all comin' to-morrow, and no candy. And I told her about
you, and how you mostly came along this road Wednesdays, and she said
run and catch you if I could, and I run!"
"I should say you did!" said Calvin. "Now you hop right in here with me,
little gal! Hopsy upsy--there she comes! Let me tuck you in good--so!
now you tell me which way to go, and hossy and me'll git there. That's a
fair division, ain't it?"
Still panting, the child pointed down a narrow cross-road, on which at
some distance stood a solitary house.
"That the house?" asked Calvin. Mittie May nodded.
"I hope Miss Fidely ain't large for her size," said Calvin; "she might
fit rayther snug if she was."
It was a tiny house, gray and weather-beaten; but the windows were trim
with white curtains and gay with flowers; on the stone wall a row of
milk-pans flashed back the afternoon sun; the whole air of the place was
cheerful and friendly.
"I expect Miss Fidely's all right!" said Calvin with emphasis. "Smart
woman, to judge by the looks of her pans, and there's nothing better to
go by as I know of. Them's as bright as Miss Hands's, and more than that
I can't say. Now you hop out, Mittie May, and ask her will she step out
and see the goods, or shall I bring in any special line?"
The child stared. "She can't come out!" she said. "Miss Fidely can't
walk."
"Can't walk!" repeated Calvin.
"No! and the path ain't shovelled wide enough for her to come out. Come
in and see her, please!"
His eyes very round, Calvin followed the child up the narrow path and in
at the low door. Then he stopped short.
The door opened directly into a long, low room, the whole width of the
house. The whitewashed walls were like snow, the bare floor was painted
bright yellow, with little islands of rag carpet here and there. There
were a few quaint old rush-bottomed chairs, and in one corner what
looked like a child's trundle-bed, gay with a splendid sunflower quilt.
These things Calvin saw afterwards; the first glance showed him only the
Tree and its owner. It was a low, spreading tree, filling one end of the
room completely. Strings of pop-corn festooned the branches, and flakes
of cotton-wool snow were cunningly disposed here and there. Bright
apples peeped from amid the green, and from every tip hung a splendid
star of tinsel or tin foil. No "boughten stuff" these; all through the
year Miss Fidely patiently begged from her neighbors: from the women the
tinsel on their button-cards, from the men the "silver" that wrapped
their tobacco. Carefully pressed under the big Bible, they waited till
Christmas, to become the glory of the Tree. The presents might not have
impressed a city child much, for every one was made by Miss Fidely
herself; the aprons, the mittens, the cotton-flannel rabbits and
bottle-dolls for the tiny ones, the lace-trimmed sachets and bows for
the older girls. Mittie May, all forgetful of marble palaces, stole one
glance of delighted awe, and then remembered her manners.
"Here's the Candy Man, Miss Fidely!" she said.
Miss Fidely turned quickly; she had been tying an apple to one of the
lower branches with scarlet worsted.
"Pleased to meet you!" she said. "Do take a seat, won't you? I can't
rise, myself, so you must excuse me!"
Miss Fidely sat in a thing like a child's go-cart on four wheels. Her
little withered feet clad in soft leather moccasins peeped out from
under her scant brown calico skirt. They could never have supported the
strong square body and powerful head, Calvin thought; she must have
spent her life in that cart; and at the thought a mist came over his
brown eyes. But he took the hard brown hand that was held out to him,
and shook it cordially.
"I am real pleased to make your acquaintance!" he said. "Nice weather
we're havin'; a mite cold, but 'tis more seasonable that way, to my
thinkin'."
"I was so afraid Mittie May wouldn't catch you!" Miss Fidely went on. "I
s'pose she's told you my misfortune, sir. I order my candy from a firm
in Tupham Centre; and I had a letter this mornin' statin' that they had
burned up and lost all their stock, and couldn't fill any orders. 'Twas
too late to order elsewhere, and I couldn't make enough for all
hands--thirty children I expect to-morrow, and some of 'em comin' from
nine or ten miles away--and what to do I didn't know; when all of a
sudden Mittie May thought of you. She lives on the next ro'd, not fur
from here, Mittie doos, and she helps me get the tree ready; don't you,
Mittie May? I don't know what I should do without her, I'm sure."
She smiled at Mittie May, who glowed with pride and pleasure. Calvin
thought he had seen only one smile brighter than Miss Fidely's.
"It did seem real providential," she went on, "if only she could catch
you, and I'm more than pleased she did. Here's my bags all ready," she
pointed to a neat pile that lay on a table beside her; "and if you've
got the goods to fill 'em, I guess we sha'n't need to do much
bargainin'. I've got the money ready too."
"I guess that's all right!" said Calvin, rising. "I'll bring my stock
right in, what's left of it, and you can take your pick. I've sold the
heft of it, but yet there's a plenty still to fill them bags twice't
over."
"Mittie May, it's time for you to go," said Miss Fidely. "Your Ma'll be
lookin' for you to help get supper. Mebbe you can run over to-night to
hang the bags, or first thing in the morning."
"I'll hang the bags!" said Calvin Parks.
"Oh!" said Miss Fidely. "You're real kind, but that's too much to ask,
isn't it?"
"I guess not!" said Calvin. "I guess I'd rather trim a Christmas Tree
than eat my supper any day in the week. You run along, Mittie May; I'll
tend to this."
The rose and violet were deepening over the snow-fields, and stars were
piercing the golden veil of sunset. Calvin filled the brown horse's
nose-bag and hung it over his head, and covered him carefully with the
buffalo robe.
"You rest easy a spell, hossy!" he said. "This is trade, you know.
Christmas Eve, you can't expect to get to bed real early."
Hossy shook himself, whinnied "All right!" and addressed himself to his
supper. Calvin pulled out one drawer after another, studying their
contents with frowning anxiety. "She's goin' to have the best there is!"
he said. "There's a look in that lady's eyes that puts me in mind of
Miss Hands; and take that with her bein' afflicted and all--I guess
we'll give her a good set-off, hossy. I guess--that--is--what we'll do!"
While he spoke, he was piling box upon box, jar upon jar, holding the
pile firm with his chin. Entering the house again, he deposited them
carefully on the table, and proceeded to spread them out.
"There!" he said. "I guess you'll find what you want here. All the
candies, stick, drop and fancy; tutti-frutti and pepsin chewing-gum,
chocolate creams and marshmallow goods. You didn't say what amount you
was calc'latin' to lay out--?"
Miss Fidely looked round her carefully. "I didn't care to say before the
little gal!" she said. "My neighbors is real careful of me, and they
grudge my spendin' so much money. I tell 'em it's my circus and fair and
sociable and spring bunnet all in one. There! I calc'late to spend five
dollars, and I've got it to spend. I'm a stranger to you, sir, and mebbe
you'd like to see it before we go any further."
"I guess not!" said Calvin Parks. "I guess I know a straight stick when
I see one--" his eyes fell on the twisted outlines covered by the brown
calico skirt, and he finished his sentence in silence. "Your one
comfort," he said, "is that it ain't likely the Lord made another fool
like you when he see the way you'd act."
"That's a handsome sum of money," he added aloud. "You'll get a handsome
set-out for it."
"I've got no one belongin' to me," said the lame woman simply; "and I'm
far from church privileges. I never touch my burial money, but I do feel
that I have a right to this. Well! you have got elegant goods, I must
say. Now we'll get down to business, if agreeable to you."
It was most agreeable to Calvin Parks, and he made it so to Miss Fidely.
She must taste every variety of sugar-plum, so that she could know what
she was giving.
"That's trade!" he said, when she remonstrated. "That's straight trade;
no samples, no buyers! You try this lemon taffy! I do regard it as
extry. These goods is all pure sugar, every mite; I know the man as made
'em, and helped some in the makin'. Some of the pineapple sticks? That's
a lovely candy to my mind. I helped make these only yesterday morning.
You try a morsel; here's a broken stick!"
"Why, I never had no such candy as this before!" cried Miss Fidely,
crunching the white and scarlet stick. "Why, 'tis as different from the
goods I've bought before as new-laid eggs is from store. I guess you'll
have a steady customer from now on, as many Christmases as I have to
live."
"That so?" said Calvin. "Well, I aim to give satisfaction, and so does
the man who makes for me. All pure sugar; no glucose, terry alby, nor
none of them things, destroyin' folks's stomachs. Nothin' else than
poison, some of the stuff you'll find in the market is; but good sugar
and good flavorin' is wholesome, I claim, taken moderate, you know, and
the system craves it, or so appears to do. Say we commence to fill the
bags now, what? And so you toll in the neighborin' children and give 'em
a Christmas Tree! Now that's a pleasant thing to do; I don't know as
ever I heard of a pleasanter."
Miss Fidely glowed again, and again she looked like Mary Sands. "I've
been doin' it for ten years now," she said, "and shall, I expect, as
long as the Lord thinks I'm best off here. You see, not havin' the use
of my limbs, I can't go much; and I do love children, and they've got
the habit of runnin' in here for a cooky or a story or like that. This
ain't a wealthy neighborhood; the soil's rather poor; folks has moved
away; I scarcely know how it is, but yet 'tis so. And, too, they haven't
had the habit of makin' of Christmas same as they do in most places.
Some ten year ago I spent a winter in the city. There was a man thought
he could cure me of my lameness, or made me think so; and though I was
old enough to know better, I give in, and went and let him try. Well, I
didn't get any help that way, but I got an amazin' deal other ways.
There was a Tree to the hospital where I was, and they carried me in to
see it; and I said that minute of time, 'There shan't any child round
our way go without a Tree after this, as long as I live!' I says. I
count it a great mercy that I've been able to keep that promise. I begin
Near Year's day to make my presents--doin' it evenin's and odd times,
you know, and 'tis my child's play all the year through till Christmas
comes again. They ask me sometimes if I ain't lonesome; any one can't be
lonesome, I tell 'em, while they're makin' Christmas presents."
"You don't live all sole alone?" asked Calvin Parks.
"Certin I do! I've no kin of my own, and them as wished to marry me
warn't more than what I had time to say no to," she laughed gleefully;
"and I wouldn't be bothered with no stranger messin' round. I'm used to
myself, you see, but I don't know as any person else could get along
with me real well, come to stay right along. I expect I'm as caniptious
as an old hen. The neighbors is real good; any one couldn't ask for
better help than they be when I need help, but 'tis seldom I do. I'm
strong and well, and everything is handy by, as you may say. Only when
it comes Christmas, I can't fetch in the tree nor yet mount up to trim
the upper branches, and then I have to call on some one. My! ain't you
smart? you've got all them bags hung while I've been talkin'. They do
look pretty, don't they?"
"They look handsome!" Calvin assented warmly, "they certainly do. But if
you'll excuse me takin' a liberty, I think there's just one extry touch
this tree needs, and with your permission I'm goin' to put it on. Excuse
me a half a minute!"
He ran out, and soon returned beaming with pleasure and good will, his
hands full of small tissue paper parcels.
"I had these all wrapped up separate," he said, "'cause they're
fraygile. How many children did you say there was? Thirty? Well, if that
ain't a nice fit! Here's three dozen left; and not one of them is goin'
any further to-night."
He unwrapped the parcels, and displayed to Miss Fidely's wondering eyes
dogs, lions, camels, rabbits, all sparkling in barley sugar, all
glittering in the sunset light. The lame woman clasped her hands, and
her eyes shone.
"Oh!" she cried. "I see the like of them in the hospital; I never see
them before or since. I can't believe it's true. Oh! I do believe the
Lord sent you, sir!"
"I believe so too!" said Calvin Parks.
Suddenly Miss Fidely's face changed.
"My goodness!" she cried. "I never thought, and I know you never either.
I can't take them, sir! I've spent all my money, and more too, I expect,
for I know well you give me extry measure in some of them candies. But
I'm just as pleased at you takin' the pains to bring 'em in, and the
children haven't seen 'em, so there's no harm."
"Now what a way that is to talk!" said Calvin, "for a lady as sensible
as you be. Didn't I know you had laid out your money, and a good sum,
too? Did you think you was the only person that liked to do a little
something for the children Christmas time? Now ain't that a sight!
Them's my present to Mittie May and her friends, that's all. Now see me
hang 'em on!"
He turned hastily to the tree, for Miss Fidely was crying, and Calvin
did not know what the mischief got into women-folks to make 'em act that
way. Drawing a ball of pink string from his pocket, he proceeded to hang
his menagerie, talking the while.
"I've had quite a time to-day. Any one sees a good deal of human natur'
drivin' a candy route, yes sir, I would say ma'am! Hossy and me has come
a good ways to-day, and seen 'most all kinds. Are you acquainted any
with a woman name of Weazle, down the ro'd about four mile from here?
Ain't? Well, she's a case, I tell you. Long skinny kind of woman, looks
like she'd bleed sour milk--skim--if she scratched her finger. She made
up her mind I was goin' to cheat her, and she warn't goin' to be
cheated, not she. Quite a circus we had.
"'How much is them marshmallers?' she says.
"'Twenty cents a pound,' I says.
"'It's too much!' she says.
"'Is that so?' I says.
"'It's scandalous!' she says.
"'I want to know!' I says.
"'You won't sell none at that price!' she says.
"'Is that a fact?' I says.
"'Well, what'll you take for em?' she says.
"'Twenty cents a pound,' I says.
"'I tell you it's too much!' she says.
"'I know it's too much for you,' I says, 'and so is the marshmallows.
They might give you the dyspepsy!' I says. 'Gitty up, hossy!' and I druv
off and left her standin' there with her mouth open. There! now they're
all up and I must be ramblin' along, or I sha'n't get nowheres by the
end of time."
Miss Fidely had dried her eyes, but the look she fixed on Calvin
disturbed him almost as much as the tears.
"I won't say nothin' more," she said; "I see the kind you are; but I
wish you could come in to-morrow and see the children. I expect their
faces will be a sight, when they see them elegant presents; yes, sir, I
do! I expect you'd never forget this Christmas, as I'm certin I never
shall. Oh!" she cried with a sudden outburst. "You good man, I hope
you'll get your heart's desire, whatever it is."
"I hope I shall!" said Calvin Parks gravely.
"And now," said Miss Fidely, brightening up, "we'll settle. If you'll
just lift the lid of that old teapot standin' on the mantel-shelf,
you'll find three one-dollar bills and a two. I wish 'twas a hundred!"
she cried heartily.
Calvin Parks stepped to the mantelpiece and lifted the lid of the
teapot.
"I guess you made a mistake this time," he said cheerily; "where'll I
look next?"
Miss Fidely turned very pale. "What--what do you mean?" she faltered.
Calvin handed her the teapot; it was empty.
"You forgot and put it somewheres else!" he said. "Anybody's liable to
do that when they have a thing on their mind. I've done it myself time
and again. How about a bureau drawer; what? We'll find it; don't you be
scared!"
"No!" said Miss Fidely faintly. "No, sir! it was there. I counted it
last night the last thing, and there ain't no one--my Lord! that tramp!"
"What tramp?"
"He came here this morning and asked for some breakfast. He seemed so
poor and mis'able, and he told such a pitiful story, I went out to get
him a drink of milk--he must have taken it. I remember, he was standin'
over there when I come in, but I never mistrusted--"
Her voice failed, and she covered her eyes with her hands. Calvin Parks
cast a rapid glance behind him, and ascertaining the position of the
door, began to edge quietly toward it.
"Don't you fret!" he said soothingly. "I shall be round this way again
some time; mebbe you'll find it some place when you least expect. I've
known such things to happen, oftentimes."
"No! no!" cried the cripple, her distress increasing momentarily. "It's
gone, sir! The look in that man's face comes back to me, and I know now
what it meant. Oh! he must have a hard heart, to rob a cripple woman of
her one pleasure, and on Christmas Eve!"
She flung her hands apart with a wild gesture, but the next moment
controlled herself and spoke quietly but rapidly. "I am ashamed to
trouble you, sir, but if you'll take down the bags I'll empt 'em as
careful as I can. I wouldn't trouble you if I could help myself."
"I--I'm afraid I can't stop!" muttered Calvin; and he hung his head as
he spoke, for a dry voice was saying in his ear, "Put this straight to
yourself; are you running a candy route or an orphan asylum?"
"Oh! if Mittie May would only come!" cried the lame woman. "I'll _have_
to trouble you, sir; it won't take you long."
Calvin mumbled something about calling again.
"No!" cried Miss Fidely. "There'd be no use in your calling again;
that's all I can save in a year, and there's no more--"
She stopped short, and the blood rushed into her thin face.
"No!" she said after a pause. "I can't take the burial money, even for
the children. Oh! you kind, good man, take down the bags, and take your
candy back!"
"I've got to see to my hoss!" cried Calvin irritably. "Hear him
hollerin'? Jest wait a half a minute--" he sneaked out of the door,
closed it carefully behind him, and bolted for his sleigh. He snatched
the nose-bag from Hossy's nose, the robe from his back; clambering
hastily in, he cast a guilty glance around him, and saw--Mittie May,
standing a few paces off, staring at him round-eyed.
"Here!" he cried. "You tell her I ain't feelin' real well, and I've got
to get home. Tell her--tell her my name's Santy Claus, and my address is
the North Pole. And--look here! tell her Merry Christmas and Happy New
Year, and the same to you! Gitty up, hossy! gitty up!" and laying his
whip over the astonished flanks of the brown horse, Calvin Parks fled
down the road as if Bluecher and the Prussians were after him.