AT LAST!
Mr. Sim shuffled in from one door, Mr. Sam from the other. As each
raised his eyes to look at the table, he saw the figure opposite; both
stopped short, and the two pairs of little gray eyes glared, one at a
black waistcoat, the other at a red.
"Take your seats, Cousins, please!" said Mary Sands, quickly. "Mr.
Parks, if you'll set opposite me--that's it! The Lord make us thankful,
Cousins and Mr. Parks, this Christmas Day, and mindful of the wants of
others, amen! You said you didn't mind carvin', Mr. Parks, so I've give
you the turkey."
The four gray eyes, releasing the waistcoat buttons opposite, glanced
furtively over the table, and opened wide. Never had the Sill farm
seen a Christmas dinner like this. "Ma" had liked a good set-out, but
she aimed to be saving, holidays and all days. They always had a turkey,
but it was apt to be the smallest hen in the flock, and the rest was to
match. But here,--here was the Big Young Gobbler, the pride and glory of
the poultry yard, no longer ruffling it in black and red, but shining in
rich golden brown, with strings of nut-brown sausages about his portly
breast. Here was cranberry sauce, not in a bowl, but moulded in the
wheat-sheaf mould, and glowing like the Great Carbuncle. Here was an Alp
of potato, a golden mountain of squash, onions glimmering translucent
like moonstones, the jewels of the winter feast, celery tossing
pale-green plumes--good gracious! celery enough for a hotel, Mr. Sam
thought; here beside each plate was a roll--was this bread, Mr. Sim
wondered, twisted into a knot and shining "like artificial?" and on
each roll a spray of scarlet geranium with its round green leaf. And
what--_what_ was that in the middle of the table? The twins forgot the
waistcoats; forgot the waste too, forgot even each other, and stared
with all their eyes. A castle! a real castle, towers and battlements,
moat and drawbridge, all complete, all sparkling in crystal sugar. From
the topmost turret a tiny pennon floating; in the gateway a knight on
horseback, nearly as large as the pennon, with fairy lance couched. It
was the triumph of Mr. Ivory Cheeseman's life.
[Illustration: MARY SANDS.]
"You take that to your lady friend," he said, "and say the man as made
it wishes her well, and you too, friend Parks, you too!"
Mary Sands was gazing at it with delighted eyes.
"Did you ever, Cousins?" she said. "Now _did_ you ever see anything so
handsome as that? It's a Christmas present from Mr. Parks, and it beats
any present ever I had in my life. I declare, this _is_ a Christmas,
isn't it, Cousins? and look at you both dressed up to the nines, and
lookin' real--" she caught Calvin's eye over the turkey, and
faltered,--"real nice, I'm sure! And each one of you changin' his vest
for Christmas! I'm sure it's real smart of you. Cousin Sim's got on his
new slippers, Cousin Sam! Cousin Sim, you see Cousin Sam's got the seal
on, and don't it look elegant? Why, I'm just as proud of you both! Now
you want to make a good dinner, Mr. Parks and Cousins, or I shall think
it _isn't_ good, and I own I've done my best."
"Good!" said Calvin Parks, as he handed a solid ivory slab to Mr. Sim;
"if there's a better dinner than this in the State of Maine, the folks
wouldn't get over it, I expect. I've seen dinners served from the
Roostick down to New Orleans, and I never see the ekal of this for
style nor quality."
"I'm sure you are more than kind to say so!" said Mary Sands. "Dear me!
times like this, any one thinks of days past and gone, don't they? You
must have had real good times Christmas, when you was boys together, Mr.
Parks, Cousins and you together."
"Well, I guess!" said Calvin Parks. "Sam, do you rec'lect one time I
come over to spend Christmas Day with you when we was little shavers
about ten year old, and we left the pig-pen gate open, and the pigs got
all over the place? Gorry! do you rec'lect the back door stood open, and
nothin' to it but old Marm Sow must projick right into the kitchen where
your Ma was gettin' dinner? Haw! haw! do you rec'lect that?"
"He! he!" piped Mr. Sam; "I guess I do! and Ma up and basted her hide
with hot gravy! My Juniper, how she hollered!"
Mr. Sim fixed Mary Sands with a glittering eye. "You tell him 'twarn't
gravy, 'twas puddin' sauce!" he said.
"Cousin Sam, Cousin Sim says 'twas puddin' sauce!" said Mary Sands
cheerfully.
"Think likely 'twas!" said Mr. Sam. "Tell him he's right for once, and
put that down on his little slate."
"Then another time," Calvin went on; "another morsel, Miss Hands? just a
scrap? can't? now ain't that a sight! I can, just as easy--watch me now!
I rec'lect well, that Methody parson was here with his boy. What was his
name? Lihu, was it, or 'Liphalet?"
"'Liphalet!" said Mr. Sim, a faint twinkle coming into his dim eyes.
"'Liphalet Pinky!"
"'Liphalet Pinky! that's it!" Calvin laid down his knife and fork to
slap his thigh. "Jerusalem crickets! how we did play it on that
unfort'nate youngster! Miss Hands, you see Sim settin' there, sober as a
judge; you'd think he'd been like that all his life now, wouldn't you?
You'd never think he'd get an unfort'nate boy into the bucket and h'ist
him up and down the well till he was e'enamost scairt to death, would
you now?"
"I certin should not!" cried Mary Sands gleefully. "Why, Cousin Sim!"
"And he hollerin' all the time, 'Lemme out! I'll tell Pa on you, and
he'll call down the wrath to come! You lemme out!' and then we'd slack
on the old sweep and down he'd go again--haw! haw!"
"He! he!" cackled Mr. Sim, rubbing his little withered hands. "I can see
the tossel on his cap now, bobbin' up and down, and his little picked
nose under it--he! he!"
"Ho! ho!" chimed in Mr. Sam suddenly. "And I can see you--I mean, tell
him I can see _him_ bobbin' up and down on Ma's knee when she spanked
him for it."
"That's too long to say," said Mary Sands placidly; "think likely he
heard it, didn't you, Cousin Sim?"
"Tell him he got jest as good!" retorted Mr. Sim.
"Cousin Sam, Cousin Sim says you got it just as good!" said Mary. "Now,
Mr. Parks, if you're a mind to carry the turkey out while I bring in the
pies--if nobody'll have any more, that is to say!"
"Well!" said Calvin Parks, rising and lifting the huge platter; "if all
had eat what I have, there'd be nothin' _to_ carry out, that's all I
have to say. After you, Miss Hands!"
He closed the pantry door cautiously after him.
"How do you think it's goin'?" he asked eagerly.
"Splendid!" cried Mary Sands under her breath. "It's goin' splendid!
They've looked at each other much as four or five times, and twice they
only just stopped in time or they'd have spoke to each other. I saw
Cousin Sam catch his breath and fairly choke the words back. Keep right
on as you are, Mr. Parks, and we'll have 'em talkin' in another hour,
see if we don't!"
The pies--such pies!--had come and gone. With furtive blinks, Mr. Sam
had unbuttoned the lower buttons of a black, Mr. Sim of a red waistcoat;
they leaned back in their chairs, their sharp little features relaxed,
and they stirred their coffee with the air of men at peace with the
world.
Calvin Parks bent over his cup with an attentive look.
"Boys," he said pensively, "warn't this your Ma's cup?"
The twins started, and looked at the dark blue cup with gold on the
handle.
"It was so!" said Mr. Sam.
"Certin!" said Mr. Sim.
"I thought so!" said Calvin. "Miss Hands, you ought to have this cup by
rights; and yet I'm pleased to have it, for I thought a sight of the
boys' Ma, and she knowed it. She was always good to me, if she did call
me a rover; always good to me she was, from the time I was knee high to
a grasshopper. The boys was bigger than me in those days, Miss Hands; I
dono as you'd think it now, but so it was. They stopped growin' at the
same time; didn't you, boys? Along about fourteen year old, warn't it?
You've been just the same height since then, haven't ye?"
"I'm a mite the tallest!" said Mr. Sam, raising his head.
"Tell him it ain't so!" piped Mr. Sim. "Tell him I am!"
"Sho!" said Calvin Parks. "I don't believe either one of you has the
least idee, reelly. If there _was_ any difference, I should say Sim was
just a shade the tallest; how does it look it to you, Miss Hands?"
"I think Cousin Sam is!" replied Mary Sands promptly.
"You don't say!" said Calvin. "Now that's queer! Looks to me--well! I
say, let's find out! 'Tis easy done. Come on into the front room, boys,
and stand back to back, and I'll measure ye!"
The front room was open in honor of Christmas Day; "Ma's" best parlor,
with its cross-stitch embroideries, its mourning pictures, its rigid
black horse-hair chairs and sofas. Above the mantelpiece, with its tall
vases of waving pampas grass, "Ma" herself gazed down from a portentous
gold frame with a quelling glance; "Pa" hung beside her, a meek young
man with a feeble smile of apology; one could understand that he had
backed out of existence as soon as might be. In one corner stood a tall
dim mirror, and before it a little double chair of quaint shape,
evidently made for two children.
"Sho!" said Calvin Parks. "How did that chair come here? Why, I haven't
seen that for forty year. Jerusalem! that takes me back--why, Sim and
Sam, it seems only yesterday, the first time ever I set foot in this
room, and there sat you two in that little chair gogglin' at me, and
your Ma standin' beside you. Say, boys, that kind of takes holt of me!
your Ma was a good woman, if she did know her own mind. Well, we're all
poor creatur's. Here! you stand back to back in front of the glass, and
then I can see--hold your chins up--shoulders back; shoulders _back_,
Sim! don't scrooch down that way; you ain't really a crab, you
know--head up, Sam! there! now shut your eyes; any one can stand
straighter with their eyes shut; now,--"
A voice spoke from the doorway; a woman's voice, full and clear, with a
sharp ring of decision.
"Now you love each other pretty, right away, or I'll take the back of
the hairbrush to you both!"
"_Ma_!" cried the twins; and they fell on their knees beside the little
chair.
* * * * *
"I told 'em shut their eyes, and then slipped out!" said Calvin Parks.
"They never missed me. Jerusalem! Miss Hands, if you'll excuse the
expression, how did you manage it? you 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!'"