thousand cheering, Calvin watched the blue toque and thought how much more eager, how much more partizan and excited would be the Royle girl, how her cheeks would pale and flush, her eyes glow and her hand grip him, if she were beside him.
For Thanksgiving at home there were three at the table, since cousin Harriet always came from Haverhill for the day.
She was a maiden of fifty-two, was cousin Harriet Clarke, and she believed in and employed plain, blunt speech, dealing directly with what she had in mind. Naturally, the ominous fate of the Barlow place had impressed her and, after Calvin had carved the turkey, she asked him:
"Have you seen the improvements in the Polos place?"
"Polos?" asked Calvin.
"The name is abbreviated from Batouopopolos, I believe—the buyer of the Barlow place."
"Yes, I've seen it," replied Calvin shortly.
"He walked by last week with Melicent," added his mother.
"I wonder how our Greek candyman will change this house," ventured cousin Harriet cheerily.
"Ours?" said Calvin.
"Our Greek successor, I mean, when we are gone," explained cousin Harriet, imperturbably. "The sundial over the door will come down, I fancy."
"What?" asked Calvin.
"Harriet!" exclaimed his mother.
"Undoubtedly. I never heard of a Greek having a sundial, especially over a door, did you? And he certainly will change the location of the gate. It might have done well enough for a stockade, but it's most impractical now; and this old wing will certainly come down. And did the furniture go with Eb Barlow's house, Calvin?"
