Now
you want to make a good dinner, Mr. Parks and Cousins, or I shall think
it _isn't_ good, and I own I've done my best."

"Good!" said Calvin Parks, as he handed a solid ivory slab to Mr. Sim;
"if there's a better dinner than this in the State of Maine, the folks
wouldn't get over it, I expect. I've seen dinners served from the
Roostick down to New Orleans, and I never see the ekal of this for
style nor quality."

"I'm sure you are more than kind to say so!" said Mary Sands. "Dear me!
times like this, any one thinks of days past and gone, don't they? You
must have had real good times Christmas, when you was boys together, Mr.
Parks, Cousins and you together."

"Well, I guess!" said Calvin Parks. "Sam, do you rec'lect one time I
come over to spend Christmas Day with you when we was little shavers
about ten year old, and we left the pig-pen gate open, and the pigs got
all over the place? Gorry! do you rec'lect the back door stood open, and
nothin' to it but old Marm Sow must projick right into the kitchen where
your Ma was gettin' dinner? Haw! haw! do you rec'lect that?"

"He! he!" piped Mr. Sam; "I guess I do! and Ma up and basted her hide
with hot gravy! My Juniper, how she hollered!"

Mr. Sim fixed Mary Sands with a glittering eye. "You tell him 'twarn't
gravy, 'twas puddin' sauce!" he said.

"Cousin Sam, Cousin Sim says 'twas puddin' sauce!" said Mary Sands
cheerfully.

"Think likely 'twas!" said Mr. Sam. "Tell him he's right for once, and
put that down on his little slate."

"Then another time," Calvin went on; "another morsel, Miss Hands? just a
scrap? can't? now ain't that a sight! I can, just as easy--watch me now!
I rec'lect well, that Methody parson was here with his boy. What was his
name? Lihu, was it, or 'Liphalet?"

"'Liphalet!" said Mr. Sim, a faint twinkle coming into his dim eyes.
"'Liphalet Pinky!"

"'Liphalet Pinky! that's it!" Calvin laid down his knife and fork to
slap his thigh. "Jerusalem crickets! how we did play it on that
unfort'nate youngster! Miss Hands, you see Sim settin' there, sober as a
judge; you'd think he'd been like that all his life now, wouldn't you?
You'd never think he'd get an unfort'nate boy into the bucket and h'ist
him up and down the well till he was e'enamost scairt to death, would
you now?"

"I certin should not!" cried Mary Sands gleefully. "Why, Cousin Sim!"

"And he hollerin' all the time, 'Lemme out! I'll tell Pa on you, and
he'll call down the wrath t