He looked along the row of stalls. "Here's the old hoss of all, and here's the mare. The young colt is out; presume likely Sam is gone to market, hossy. What say to gettin' a bite in his stall? He won't be back till dinner time." Hossy approving, Calvin unharnessed him, and he stepped into the stall without further invitation. "Now you be real friendly with old John and the mare!" said Calvin, "and I'll come for you sooner than you're ready." The brown horse flung him a brief snort of assurance, and plunged his head into the manger; and Calvin fastened the door and made his way slowly toward the house. The back view of the Sill farmhouse was hardly less pleasant than the front, especially when, as now, the morning sun lay full on the warm yellow of the house, the bright green of the door, and the reddish granite of the well-scoured steps. A screen of dark evergreens set off all these cheerful tints; and to make the picture still gayer Mary Sands, a scarlet "sontag" tied trimly over her blue dress, was sitting on the cellar door, picking over tomatoes. Calvin Parks was conscious of missing Hossy. He wanted some one to appeal to. "Do you see that?" he murmured, addressing the landscape. "Do you call that handsome? because if you don't, you are a calf's-head, whatever else you may be." Mary Sands looked up, and her bright face grew brighter at sight of him. "Oh, Mr. Parks!" she cried. "I am glad to see you. I've been wishin' all the week you'd come by and stop in a bit. Now this is a pleasure, surely! Come right in!" "Hold on, Miss Hands!" said Calvin, as she moved toward the door. "Hold on just a minute. How about the tomaytoes?" [Illustration: "'HOLD ON, MISS HANDS!' SAID CALVIN, AS SHE MOVED TOWARD THE DOOR."] "Oh, they can wait!" said Mary. "I was just turning 'em so they'd get the sun on all sides." "Ain't it remarkable late for tomaytoes?" asked Calvin. "I dono as ever I see ripe ones at this season. I expect you can do what you like with gardin truck, Miss Hands, same as with most things." Mary blushed and twinkled. "Oh, I don't know!" she answered. "I've always had good luck with late vegetables. I do suppose I've kept these tomaytoes on later than common, though; I confess I'm rather proud of them, Mr. Parks. Cousins say I tend 'em like young chickens, and I don't know but I do. I put 'em out mornings, when 'tis bright and warm like this, and take 'em in before sundown, fear they'll get chilled. Anything ripens so much better in the sun." "I don't believe you've turned 'em all," said Calvin. "I should admire to set here a spell, if 'tis warm enough for you. I ripen better in the sun, too;" he twinkled at her. "_Is_ it warm enough for you?" he added anxiously. "My, yes!" said Mary Sands. "Why, 'tis like summer in this bright sun, and this cellar door is warm as a stove. Well, if you're really a mind to help, Mr. Parks,--I'm sure you're more than kind."