Dick Lee had been more than half right about the village being a
dangerous place for him with such an unusual amount of clothing over
his ordinary uniform.
The very dogs, every one of whom was an old acquaintance, barked at
him on his way home that night; and, proud as were his ebony father
and mother, they yielded to his earnest entreaties, first, that he
might wear his present all the next day, and, second, that he might
betake himself to the "bay," early in the morning, and so keep out of
sight "till he got used to it."
The fault with Dab Kinzer's old suit, after all, had lain mainly in
its size rather than its materials, for Mrs. Kinzer was too good a
manager to be really stingy.
Dick succeeded in reaching the boat-landing without falling in with
any one who seemed disposed to laugh at him; but there, right on the
wharf, was a white boy of about his own age, and he felt a good deal
like backing out.
"Nebber seen him afore, either," said Dick to himself. "Den I guess I
aint afeard ob him."
The stranger was a somewhat short and thick-set but bright and
active-looking boy, with a pair of very keen, greenish-gray eyes. But,
after all, the first word he spoke to poor Dick was:
"Hullo, clothes! where are you going with all that boy?"
"I knowed it! I knowed it!" groaned Dick. But he answered, as sharply
as he knew how: "I's goin' a-fishin'. Any ob youah business?"
"Where'd you learn to fish?" the stranger asked. "Down South? Didn't
know they had any there."
"Nebbah was down Souf," was the surly reply.
"Father run away, did he?"
"He nebber was down dar, nudder."
"Nor his father?"
"'T aint no business o' your'n," said Dick; "but we's allers lived
right heah on dis bay."
"Guess not," replied the white boy, knowingly.
But Dick was right, for his people had been slaves among the very
earliest Dutch settlers, and had never "lived South" at all. He was
now busily getting one of the boats ready to push off; but his white
tormentor went at him again with--
"Well, then, if you've lived here so long, you must know everybody."
"Reckon I do."
"Are there any nice fellows around here? Any like me?"
"De nicest young genelman 'round dis bay," replied Dick, "is Mr. Dab
Kinzer. But he aint like you. Not nuff to hurt 'im."
"Dab Kinzer!" exclaimed the stranger. "Where did he get his name?"
"In de bay, I spect," said Dick, as he shoved his boat off. "Caught
'im wid a hook."
"Anyhow," said the strange boy to himself, "that's probably the sort
of fellow my father would wish me to associate with. Only it's likely
he's very ignorant."
And he walked away toward the village with the air of a man who had
forgotten more than the rest of his race were ever likely to find out.
At all events, Dick Lee had managed to say a good word for his
benefactor, little as he could guess what might be the consequences.
Meantime, Dab Kinzer, when he went out from breakfast, had strolled
away to the north fence, for a good look at the house which was
thenceforth to be the home of his favorite sister. He had seen it
before, every day since he could remember; but it seemed to have a
fresh and almost mournful interest for him just now.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed, as he leaned against the fence. "Putting up
ladders? Oh yes, I see! That's old Tommy McGrew, the house-painter.
Well, Ham's house needs a new coat as badly as I did. Sure it'll fit,
too. Only it aint used to it any more'n I am."
"Dabney!"
It was his mother's voice, and Dab felt like "minding" very promptly
that morning.
"Dabney, my boy, come here to the gate."
"Ham's having his house painted," he remarked, as he joined his
mother.
"Is he?" she said. "We'll go and see about it."
As they drew nearer, however, Dabney discovered that carpenters
as well as painters were plying their trade in and about the old
homestead. There were window-sashes piled here and blinds there, a new
door or so ready for use, with bundles of shingles, and other signs of
approaching "renovation."
"Going to fix it all over," remarked Dab.
"Yes," replied his mother; "it'll be as good as new. It was well
built, and will bear mending."
When they entered the house, it became more and more evident that the
"shabby" days of the Morris mansion were numbered. There were men at
work in almost every room.
Ham's wedding trip would surely give plenty of time, at that rate, and
his house would be "all ready for him" on his return.
There was nothing wonderful to Dabney in the fact that his mother went
about inspecting work and giving directions. He had never seen her do
anything else, and he had the greatest confidence in her knowledge and
ability.
Dabney noticed, too, before they left the place, that all the
customary farm-work was going ahead with even more regularity and
energy than if the owner himself had been present.
"Ham's farm'll look like ours, one of these days, at this rate," he
said to his mother.
"I mean it shall," she replied, somewhat sharply. "Now go and get out
the ponies, and we'll do the rest of our errands."
If they had only known it, at that very moment Ham and his blooming
bride were setting out for a drive at the fashionable watering-place
where they had made the first stop in their wedding tour.
"Ham?" said Miranda, "it seems to me as if we were a thousand miles
from home."
"We shall be further before we get nearer," said Ham.
"But I wonder what they are doing there,--mother and the girls and
dear little Dabney?"
"Little Dabney!" exclaimed Ham. "Why, Miranda, do you think Dab is a
baby yet?"
"No, not a baby. But------"
"Well, he's a boy, that's a fact; but he'll be as tall as I am in
three years."
"Will he ever be fat?"
"Not till after he gets his full length," said Ham. "We must have him
at our house a good deal, and feed him up. I've taken a liking to
Dab."
"Feed him up!" said Miranda, with some indignation. "Do you think we
starve him?"
"No; but how many meals a day does he get?"
"Three, of course, like the rest of us; and he never misses one of
them."
"I suppose not," said Ham, "I never miss a meal myself, if I can help
it. But don't you think three meals a day is rather short allowance
for a boy like Dab?"
Miranda thought a moment, but then she answered, positively: "No, I
don't. Not if he does as well at each one of them as Dab is sure to."
"Well," said Ham, "that was in his old clothes, that were too tight
for him. Now he's got a good loose fit, with plenty of room, you don't
know how much more he may need. No, Miranda, I'm going to have an eye
on Dabney."
"You're a dear, good fellow, anyway," said Miranda, "and I hope
mother'll have the house all ready for us when we get back."
"She will," replied Ham. "I shall hardly be easy till I see what she
has done with it."