CHAPTER I
INTRODUCING THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

"If I'm not mistaken," said Calvin Parks, "this is the ro'd where Sam and Sim used to live!"

He checked his horse and looked about him. "And there – well, I'm blowed if that ain't the house now. Same old pumpkin-color; same old well-sweep; same old trees; it certinly is the house. Well!"

He looked earnestly at the house, which seemed to give him a friendly look in return; a large, comfortable yellow house, with windows of cheerful inquiry, and a door that came as near smiling as a door can. Two huge elms mounted guard over it, and touched tips with a group of splendid willows that clustered round the ample barnyard; the front yard was green and smooth, with a neat flagstone path; a vast and friendly-looking dog lay on the broad door-step; everything about the place looked comfortable and sociable.

"If that ain't a pictur'," said Calvin Parks, "I never see one, that's all."

He drove into the yard, and clambered rather slowly out of his wagon. He was a tall, light-limbed, active-looking man, but the wheels seemed to be in his way.

"I never shall get used to this rig," he muttered; "I'd ought to have a rope and tayckle to hi'st me out."

He cast a disapproving look at the wagon, and hurried toward the house. The vast dog rose, shook himself, yawned, and sniffed approvingly at his trousers.

"That's right, son!" said Calvin. "A friend is a friend, in pants or tails! Now let's see where the boys be. I must wipe my feet good, though, or I shall have the old lady after me!"

He opened the front door; and after casting a look of friendly recognition round the hall, tapped on the door at his left.

"Come in!" said a voice.

"Sam!" said Calvin Parks; and he stepped into the room.

"How are you, Sam?" he began. "How are you – why, where's Sim?" he added in an altered tone. "Where's your Ma?"

A little man in snuff-brown clothes, with a red flannel waistcoat, came forward.

"Calvin Parks," he said, "don't tell me this is you!"

"I won't!" said Calvin. "I'll tell you it's old John Tyseed if that'll do you any good. What I want to know is, where's the rest of you? Don't tell me there's anything happened to your Ma and Sim, Sam Sill!"

The little man cast a curious look toward a door that stood ajar not far from where he sat. He was silent a moment, and then said in a half whisper, "Ma is gone, Calvin!"

"Gone!" repeated the visitor. "What do you mean by gone?"

"Dead!" said the little man. "Departed. No more."

"Sho!" said Calvin Parks. "Is that so? Well, I'm sorry to hear it, Sam! And I'm – well, astounded is the word. Your Ma gone! Well, now! she was one, somehow or other of it, never seemed as if she could go."

"I expect," said Mr. Samuel Sill in the same subdued tone, "she is with the blessed;" he reflected a moment, and added, "and with father!"

"To be sure! naturally!" said Calvin Parks reassuringly. "How long since you laid her away, Sam?"

"We laid her away," said Sam, "a year ago, Calvin. She'd been poorly for a long spell, droopin' kind of; nothing to take a holt of. Kep' up round and done the work, but her victuals didn't relish, nor yet they didn't set. She knew her time was come. She said to me and – the other one," (again he cast a curious look toward the open door), "sittin' in this very room – 'Boys,' she says, 'my stummick is leavin' me; and without a stummick I have no wish to remain, nor yet I don't believe it would be wished. I expect I am about to depart this life.'"

"I want to know!" murmured Calvin Parks sympathetically. "She come as close to it as that, did she?"

"About twice't a week," the little man continued, "she'd call us to come in after she was in bed, and say she'd most likely be gone in the mornin', and to be good boys, and keep the farm up as it should be. First for a time we tried to reason her out of it like, for the Lord didn't seem in no hurry, nor yet we weren't; but one night she seemed set on it, told us goodbye, and all the rest of it. 'Well, mother!' I says, 'if you see father, tell him the hay's all in!' I says. Sure enough, come morning she was gone. Cut down like a – well!" he paused again and reflected. "I don't know as you'd call Ma exactly a flower, nor yet was she what you'd call real fruity, though ripe."

"Call it grain!" said Calvin Parks gravely. "First crop oats, or good winter wheat; either of them, Sam, would represent your Ma good. Well, I certinly am astounded to find that she is gone. But that don't tell me the rest of it, Sam. Where's Sim?"

"Sim," replied the little man, turning his eyes toward the open door; "Sim is – "

At this moment a singular sound came from beyond the door; a sound half cough, half call, and all cackle.

"That's Sim!" said Mr. Sam. "You'll find him in there!"

Calvin Parks's large brown eyes seemed to grow quite round; he stared at the little man for a moment; then "Red-top and timothy!" he muttered; "there's something queer here!" and stepped quickly into the other room.

A stranger would have said, here was a juggler's trick. The little snuff-colored man sitting hunched in the low chair was apparently the same man, but he had changed his red waistcoat for a black one, and had whisked himself in some unaccountable way into another room. But Calvin Parks knew better.

"How are you, Sim?" he said.

"Calvin," said the second little man, "I am pleased to see you, real pleased! Be seated! In regards to your question, I am middlin', sir, only middlin'."

Calvin Parks sat down, his eyes still round and staring. "What's the matter?" he asked abruptly.

"Some thinks it's lumbago," said the little man; "and more calls it neurology. There is them," he added cautiously, "as has used the word tuber-clossis; I don't hold with that myself, but I'm doctorin' for all three, not to take no chances."

"All that be blowed!" said Calvin Parks. "What's the matter between you two? Why are you sittin' here and Sam in t'other room, you that have set side by side ever since you knew how to sit? Siamese Twins you've been called ever since born you was; dressed alike, fed alike, and reared alike; and now look at you! What's the matter, I say?"

The little man cast a look toward the door, a duplicate of the look which Calvin Parks had seen cast from the other side of it. Then he leaned forward, and fixed his sharp gray eyes on his visitor.

"Calvin Parks," he said, "you never was a twin!"

"No, I warn't!" said Calvin Parks.

The little man waved his hand. "That's all I've got to say!" he said. "We was. That's the situation. I've nothin' against Samuel, nor he as I knows on against me; but we have had a sufficiency of each other, and we are havin' us a rest, Calvin. We eat together, but otherwise we don't. But I'll tell you one thing," he added, leaning forward and dropping his voice, while his eyes narrowed to pinpoints. "When I don't like a man, I don't like him any better for bein' twin to me, I like him wuss!"

He leaned back again, and then repeated aloud, "Not that I've anything against Samuel, or fur as I know, Samuel against me."

"Well! may I be scuttled," said Calvin Parks, "if ever I see the beat of this! Why, Sim Sill – "

At this moment another door opened behind him, and a clear, pleasant voice said,

"Dinner's ready, Cousin Sim! Cousin Sam, dinner's ready!"

Mr. Simeon Sill made a gesture of introduction. "Calvin," he said, "let me make you acquainted with my cousin Miss Sands!"

Calvin Parks rose and made his best bow. "Miss Hands," he said, "I am pleased to meet you, I'm sure!"

CHAPTER II
BROTHERLY WAYS

"You'll stay to dinner, Cal?" said Mr. Sim.

"Calvin, you'll eat dinner with us?" cried Mr. Sam.

Calvin Parks looked at Miss Sands, and saw hospitality beaming in her face.

"Thank ye, Sim;" he said, "I'm obliged to you, Sam; I'll stay with pleasure, Miss Hands!"

It was a singular meal. Mary Sands sat at the head of the table, with all the dishes before her, and helped the three men largely to the excellent boiled dinner. Calvin Parks faced her at the foot, and the twins sat on either side. They talked cheerfully with their visitor and Miss Sands, but did not address each other directly.

Calvin remarked upon the excellence of the beef. "Fancy brisket, ain't it?" he asked.

"Yes!" replied Mr. Sim. "It's the best cut on the critter for cornin'."

Mr. Sam looked at his cousin. "Tell him I don't agree with him!" he said.

"Cousin Sim, Cousin Sam don't agree with you!" said Mary Sands placidly.

"Tell him the aitch bone is better!" continued Mr. Sam with some heat.

"He says the aitch bone is better!" repeated Mary Sands.

"Tell him it ain't!" said Mr. Sim.

"Cousin Sim says it ain't, Cousin Sam," said Mary, "and that's enough on the subject."

She spoke with calm and cheerful authority; the twins glowered at the corned beef in silence.

"Speakin' of critters," said Calvin Parks hastily, "how many head are you carryin' now, boys?"

There was no reply. Looking at Miss Sands, her eyes directed his glance to Mr. Sam.

"How many head are you carryin', Sam?" he repeated.

"Twenty!" replied Mr. Sam.

"That's a nice herd," said Calvin. "Hereford, be they?"

"Holstein!" said Sam. "They're the best milkers, and the best beef critters too."

Mr. Sim looked at Mary Sands with kindling eyes. "Tell him it ain't so!" he said. "Tell him he knows better!"

"Cousin Sim says it ain't so, and you know better, Cousin Sam," said Mary Sands.

"Tell him he knows wuss!" grunted Mr. Sam.

"Cousin Sam says you know wuss, Cousin Sim, and that will do!" said Mary Sands quietly.

It was the same at dessert. Calvin praised the admirable quality of the pie.

"Now this," he said, "is my idee of a squash pie. It isn't slickin' up and tryin' to look like custard, nor yet it don't make believe it's pumpkin; it just says, 'I am a squash pie, and if there's a better article you may let me know.'"

"I'm real pleased you like it," said Mary Sands modestly; "it's Cousin Lucindy's recipe. She must have been a master hand at pies."

"She certinly was!" said Mr. Sam. "Squash and pumpkin and cranberry, Ma was fust-rate in all; but mince was her best holt."

"Tell him it warn't," said Mr. Sim, fixing his cousin with a burning eye. "Tell him her apple bet it holler."

"Cousin Sim says it warn't, Cousin Sam, and her apple bet it holler," repeated Mary Sands cheerfully.

"Tell him he's a turnip-head!" said Mr. Sam.