A MEMBER OF ONE OF THE OLDEST FAMILIES MEETS A YOUNG GENTLEMAN FROM THE
CITY.
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 of the improvement in their son's appearance, 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."
"On'y, you jist mind wot yer about!" said his mother, "and see't you
keep dem clo'es from gettin' wet. I jist can't 'foard to hab dem spiled
right away."
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
ain't 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 how to fish?" the stranger asked, "Down South? Didn't
know they had any there."
"Nebbah was down Souf," was the somewhat surly reply.
"Father run away, did he?"
"He nebber was down dar, nudder."
"Nor his father?"
"'Tain't no business ob yourn," said Dick, "but we's allers lived right
heah, on dis bay."
"Guess not," said the white boy knowingly. Dick was right, nevertheless;
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 shove off; but his white tormentor went at him again,
with,--
"Well, then, if you've lived round here as long as that, you must know
everybody."
"Reckon I do."
"Are there any nice fellows around here? Any like me?"
"De nicest young gen'lman round dis bay," replied Dick, "is Mr. Dab
Kinzer. But he ain't like you. Not nuff to hurt him."
"Dab Kinzer," exclaimed the stranger. "Where'd 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 kind of
fellow my father would wish me to associate with. Only it's likely he's
very ignorant."
And he walked away towards 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 ain't 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 Morris is having his house painted," he remarked, as he walked
towards his mother.
"Is he?" she said. "We'll go and see about it."
The gate between the two "side-yards" had been there from time
immemorial, and-they walked right through. As they drew nearer the
Morris house, 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, a great stack of bundles of shingles, some barrels of lime, and
a heap of sand. Whichever way Dab looked, there were visible signs of an
approaching renovation.
"Going to fix it all over," he remarked.
"Yes," replied his mother: "it'll be as good as new. It was well built,
and will bear mending. I couldn't say that of some of the shackling
things they've been putting up around the village."
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, for
an immense amount of "mending;" and his house would be, as the widow had
promised, "all ready for him on his return."
There was nothing wonderful to Dabney in the idea of his mother going
about and inspecting work, and finding fault, and giving directions. He
had never seen her do any thing else, and he had the greatest confidence
in her knowledge and ability. He noticed too, before they left the
place, that 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 something like ours, one of these days," he said,
"if things go on at this rate."
"I mean it shall," replied his mother, a little sharply. "Now go and get
out the ponies, and we'll do the rest of our errands."
Dab started for the barn at a half trot; for, if there was one thing he
liked better than another, it was to have the reins in his hands and
that pair of ponies before him. Time had been when Mrs. Kinzer did her
own driving, and only permitted Dab to "hold the horses" while she made
her calls, business or otherwise; but that day had been safely put away
among Dab's unpleasant memories for a good while.
It was but a few minutes before the neat buggy held the widow and her
son, and the ponies were taking them briskly down the road towards the
village.
It they had only known it, at that very moment Ham Morris and his
blooming bride were setting out for a drive, at the fashionable
watering-place where they had made their 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 a good deal farther before we get any nearer," said Ham.
"But I wonder what they are doing there, this morning,--mother, and the
girls, and dear little Dabney."
"Little Dabney!" exclaimed Ham, with a queer sort of laugh on his face.
"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? Do you think so? But will he ever get fat?"
"Not till after he gets his full length," said Ham. "We must have him at
our house a good deal, after we get home, and feed him up. I've taken a
liking to Dab."
"Feed him up!" said Miranda. "Do you think we starve him?"
"No, I suppose not; but how many meals a day does he get?"
"Three, of course, like the rest of us; and he never misses one of
them."
"Exactly," said Ham: "I shouldn't suppose he would. 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 Dabney 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
Dab."
"You're a dear good fellow, anyway," said Miranda, with one of her very
best smiles, "and I hope mother'll have the house all ready for us when
we get back."
"She will," replied Ham, after a moment spent in somewhat thoughtful
silence. "Do you know, Miranda, I shall hardly be easy about that till I
see what she's done with it? It was in a dreadfully baggy condition."