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"I would!" said Mr. Cheeseman firmly. "She'd ought to have got a cent from her Ma, and she'll do it next time if you don't give in now."
"Mebbe she has no Ma!" said Calvin gloomily. "Mebbe her Ma's a Tartar."
"That ain't your lookout!" retorted Mr. Cheeseman. "Now, friend Parks, it comes to just this. You put this to yourself straight; are you runnin' a candy route, or an orphan asylum?"
Calvin was silent, gazing darkly at the pan of cinnamon drops before him. Mr. Cheeseman, having driven his nail home, put away his hammer.
"Now about your stock!" he said cheerfully. "You rather run to sticks in your fancy, but if I was you I'd go a mite more into fancy truck Christmas time. Gives 'em a change, and seems more holiday like. Take this lobster loaf, now!"
He laid his hand on a huge mass, chocolate-coated, its side displaying strata of red and white. "This is a good article when you strike a large family or a corner store. It's cheap, and it's fillin'. You let me put you up a couple of loaves; what say?"
"All right!" said Calvin, still gloomily. "What next?"
"Well, here's chicken bones!" and Mr. Cheeseman picked up a handful of short white sticks. "These is good goods; try one!"
Calvin crunched a stick. "Chocolate fillin'?" he said.
"Yes; with just a dite of peanut butter to give it a twist. Children like 'em; like the name, too; makes 'em think of the turkey that's comin'. Two or three pounds of them? That's right! All the sticks, I s'pose? and all the drops? That's it! I expect you to make your fortune this time, and no mistake. Now we come to gum drops! how about them?"
"Well," said Calvin, "I never found gum drops what you'd call real amusin' myself; I like something with a mite more snap to it, don't you?"
"Did, when I had teeth like yours!" Mr. Cheeseman replied. "But you take old folks, or folks that's had their teeth out, and say, 'gum drops' to 'em, and they'll run like chickens. They like something soft, you see. How's your route off for teeth?"
"Why I don't know as I've noticed specially!" said Calvin, his brown eyes growing round.
"Fust thing a candy man ought to notice! Well, you take a good stock of gum drops, that's my advice. Now come to the animals what is it, Lonzo?"
Lonzo shambled in from the shop; the tears were running down his platter face, and his huge frame shook with sobs.
"She she won't give me the el'phant!" he said.
"What elephant? Cheer up, Lonzo! don't you cry, son; Christmas is comin', you know."
"You said you said if I cleaned the dishes all up good for Christmas I could take my pick, and I picked the el'phant, and she won't give it to me!"
At this juncture the pretty girl appeared, flushed and defiant.
"Mr. Cheeseman, he wants that big elephant, the handsomest thing in the window;
and hossy and me have a good ways to go before we get our oats."
"It's not far," said the child. "And she wants to see you terrible bad. Her goods ain't come that she ordered, and the tree's all up, and the boys and girls all comin' to-morrow, and no candy. And I told her about you, and how you mostly came along this road Wednesdays, and she said run and catch you if I could, and I run!"
"I should say you did!" said Calvin. "Now you hop right in here with me, little gal! Hopsy upsy there she comes! Let me tuck you in good so! now you tell me which way to go, and hossy and me'll git there. That's a fair division, ain't it?"
Still panting, the child pointed down a narrow cross-road, on which at some distance stood a solitary house.
"That the house?" asked Calvin. Mittie May nodded.
"I hope Miss Fidely ain't large for her size," said Calvin; "she might fit rayther snug if she was."
It was a tiny house, gray and weather-beaten; but the windows were trim with white curtains and gay with flowers; on the stone wall a row of milk-pans flashed back the afternoon sun; the whole air of the place was cheerful and friendly.
"I expect Miss Fidely's all right!" said Calvin with emphasis. "Smart woman, to judge by the looks of her pans, and there's nothing better to go by as I know of. Them's as bright as Miss Hands's, and more than that I can't say. Now you hop out, Mittie May, and ask her will she step out and see the goods, or shall I bring in any special line?"
The child stared. "She can't come out!" she said. "Miss Fidely can't walk."
"Can't walk!" repeated Calvin.
"No! and the path ain't shovelled wide enough for her to come out. Come in and see her, please!"
His eyes very round, Calvin followed the child up the narrow path and in at the low door. Then he stopped short.
The door opened directly into a long, low room, the whole width of the house. The whitewashed walls were like snow, the bare floor was painted bright yellow, with little islands of rag carpet here and there. There were a few quaint old rush-bottomed chairs, and in one corner what looked like a child's trundle-bed, gay with a splendid sunflower quilt. These things Calvin saw afterwards; the first glance showed him only the Tree and its owner. It was a low, spreading tree, filling one end of the room completely. Strings of pop-corn festooned the branches, and flakes of cotton-wool snow were cunningly disposed here and there. Bright apples peeped from amid the green, and from every tip hung a splendid star of tinsel or tin foil. No "boughten stuff" these; all through the year Miss Fidely patiently begged from her neighbors: from the women the tinsel on their button-cards, from the men the "silver" that wrapped their tobacco. Carefully pressed under the big Bible, they waited till Christmas, to become the glory of the Tree. The presents might not have impressed a city child much, for every one was made by Miss Fidely herself; the aprons, the mittens, the cotton-flannel rabbits and bottle-dolls for the tiny ones, the lace-trimmed sachets and bows for the older girls. Mittie May, all forgetful of marble palaces, stole one glance of delighted awe, and then remembered her manners.