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"Gather that fellow in," said Buck Patterson, setting forth the lines of the campaign. "Don't have no talk, but shoot as soon as you can get a show. Keep behind cover and bring him down. He's a nogood 'un. It's up to Calliope to turn up his toes this time, I reckon. Go to him all spraddled out, boys. And don't git too reckless, for what Calliope shoots at he hits."
The other morning, as I was returning from a ride across the river to Council Bluffs, I heard the shrill notes of a calliope that reminded me that Forepaugh's circus was to be in town that day, and that I had promised to go to the afternoon performance with a party of friends. But soon there were other sounds and other thoughts.
Seems to me you'd ought to know somethin' about Delia an' Abel." And I wanted to hear. "Abel see Delia first," Calliope told me then, "to the Rummage Sale that the Cemetery Auxiliary, that the Sodality use' to be, give. That is to say, they didn't give it, as it turned out they just had it, you might say. Abel was twenty-five or so, an' he'd just come here fresh ordained a minister.
The names of things, too, are fatal, following the nature of things. All the gods of the Pantheon are, by their names, significant of a profound sense. The gods are the ideas. Pan is speech, or manifestation; Saturn, the contemplative; Jove, the regal soul; and Mars, passion. Venus is proportion; Calliope, the soul of the world; Aglaia, intellectual illustration.
From the edges of consciousness I finally drew some discernment of the place of coffee and rolls in a beneficent universe, and presently we three sat at his breakfast table. And not until then did Calliope remember her other news. "Land, land," she said, "I like to forgot. Who do you s'pose I had a telephone from just before you come? Delia. She'd just got home this morning on the Fast Mail.
"Calliope looks down at him, wonderful calm an' still. "'You've had your own child, she told him slow; 'you've had a real life. I'm just gettin' to mine since I had the boy. "'But, good God, he says, starin' up at her, 'you're a woman. An' one child is the same as another to you, so be that it ain't your own.
"I know I know," Calliope said again. "That's why I said for you to come over in my kitchen. You come over there an' stir up the sunshine cake, too, an' bake it in my oven, so's we can hev it et hot. Will you do that?" And after a little time they consented. If Calliope found any sick or poor, they would do that.
Also, though Calliope did not speak of it again, and I think that the others kept a loyal silence because of my strangerhood, I had known, since the home coming of Delia More, that Abel Halsey had once had another dream. "You wasn't here when the new church was built," Calliope said, looking up at the building proudly. "That was the time I mean about Abel.
She was a woman that worked, like me, but yet she was wonderful differ'nt. That was when we had our shop together in the house where we lived with the boy I'll come to him in a minute or two. Besides lace-makin', Calliope had a piano an' taught in the fittin'-room that was the same as the dinin'-room. Six scholars took. Sometimes I think it was her knowin' music that made her differ'nt.
Come in and make Mr. Baring a cup of your good coffee you will, Calliope? Mother and I will be with him for half an hour yet. Come, all of you, and help her."
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