“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!”