The Wooing of Calvin ParksRichards, Laura Elizabeth Howe
General
The Wooing of Calvin Parks
Richards, Laura Elizabeth Howe
Courtship -- Fiction; Maine -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction
"Sho! seein' in that paper that Cap'n Bates was leavin' the Mary and
goin' aboard a tug has got me worked up, kind of. If it warn't that I
had sworn off rovin' and rollin' for ever more--I tell you! Jerusalem!
but I'd like to hear the Mary talkin' once more--never was a vessel had
a pleasanter way of speakin'--there again they're alike, them two. Take
her with all sails drawin', half a gale o' wind blowin', and if she
don't sing, that schooner, then I never heard singin,' that's all. And
even in a calm, just lying rollin' on a long swell, and she'll say 'Easy
does it! easy does it! breeze up soon, and Mary knows it!' and the water
lip-lappin', and the sails playin' 'Isick and Josh, Isick and
Josh,'--great snakes! Gitty up, hossy, or I shall take the wrong turn
and drive to Bath instead of Tinkham."
Spite of moonlight and good spirits, the way was long, and it was near
nine o'clock when Calvin drove in at the Widow Marlin's gateway. He
whistled, a cheerful and propitiatory note, as he drove past the house
to the barn.
"Presume likely they'll be put out some at me bein' late," he said; "but
you shall have your supper first, hossy, don't you be afeared! They
can't no more than kill me, anyway, and I don't know as they'd find it
specially easy to-night."
The house was ominously silent as Calvin entered. The kitchen was empty,
and he opened the door of the sitting-room, but paused on the threshold.
Miss Phrony Marlin was sitting in the corner, weeping ostentatiously,
with loud and prolonged sniffs. Her mother, a little withered woman like
crumpled parchment, cowered witch-like over the air-tight stove, and
looked at Calvin and then at her daughter, but said nothing.
"Excuse _me_!" said Calvin, stepping back. "I'll go into the kitchen. I
didn't know; no bad news, I hope, Mis' Marlin?"
"She's all broke up!" said the old woman.
"So I see. Anything special happened?"
"Oh! you cruel man!" moaned Miss Phrony from the corner.
"Who?" said Calvin. "Me? Now what a way to talk! What's the matter, Miss
Phrony? What have I done? Why, I haven't been here since breakfast
time."
"That's it!" said the widow. "She's ben lookin' for you all afternoon,
and she had extry victuals cooked for you, and you never come."
"Now ain't that a sight!" said Calvin cheerily. "Why, I told you I'd
most likely be late, don't you rec'lect I did? We've been a long ways
to-day, hossy and me have. How about them victuals, now? I could eat a
barn door, seem's though."
"How long was you at them Sillses?" demanded Miss Phrony, wiping her
eyes elaborately. "You didn't keep _them_ waitin', I'll be bound."
"Why, I took dinner with 'em," said Calvin, indulgently. "I told you I
was goin' to, you know. Gorry! you wouldn't have wanted me here to
dinner if you'd seen the way I ate. How was your chicken, old lady? He
looked like a good one. I picked out the best nourished one I could
find."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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