"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 square pan is o' purpose for you." Lonzo stowed a third of the contents of the pan in his cavernous mouth, the rest in various pockets, and departed grinning happily. "He's as good as gold!" said Mr. Cheeseman. "Not a mite of harm in Lonzo; I wish all sensible folks was as pleasant. Now, friend Parks, bile up!" Calvin pulled his brown moustache, and looked shy. "I guess I'm pretty slow molasses, Mr. Cheeseman," he said. "I ain't used to bilin', except in the way of gettin' mad once in a while, and I don't do that real often; but yet I'll try my best." In a few words he described the twins and his relation to them. "No kin, you know, blood nor married; only just neighbors all our lives till late years. I should expect to do a neighbor's part by the boys, week-days and Sundays, and I dono as ever I've done contrary." Then he told, with more reserve, of "Miss Hands's" coming; of his finding her there; of her striking him as, take it all round, the likeliest woman ever he saw; of his saying to himself that if ever things turned out so that he had a right to ask a woman to hitch her wagon to a middle-aged hoss that had some go in him yet, here was the woman.