CHAPTER III.
A MEMBER OF ONE OF THE OLDEST FAMILIES MEETS A YOUNG GENTLEMAN FROM THECITY.
Dick Lee had been more than half right about the village being adangerous place for him, with such an unusual amount of clothing overhis ordinary uniform.
The very dogs, every one of whom was an old acquaintance, barked at himon his way home that night; and, proud as were his ebony father andmother of the improvement in their son's appearance, they yielded to hisearnest entreaties, first, that he might wear his present all the nextday, and, second, that he might betake himself to the "bay" early in themorning, 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 youkeep dem clo'es from gettin' wet. I jist can't 'foard to hab dem spiledright away."
The fault with Dab Kinzer's old suit, after all, had lain mainly in itssize rather than its materials; for Mrs. Kinzer was too good a managerto be really stingy.
Dick succeeded in reaching the boat-landing without falling in with anyone 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 likebacking out.
"Nebber seen him afore, either," said Dick to himself. "Den I guess Iain't afeard ob him."
The stranger was a somewhat short and thick-set, but bright andactive-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 ashe knew how,--
"I's goin' a-fishin'. Any ob youah business?"--
"Where'd you learn how to fish?" the stranger asked, "Down South? Didn'tknow 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 rightheah, 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 theboats 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 knoweverybody."
"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. DabKinzer. 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 'imwid a hook."
"Anyhow," said the strange boy to himself, "that's probably the kind offellow my father would wish me to associate with. Only it's likely he'svery ignorant."
And he walked away towards the village, with the air of a man who hadforgotten 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 hisbenefactor, little as he could guess what might be the consequences.
Meantime Dab Kinzer, when he went out from breakfast, had strolled awayto the north fence, for a good look at the house which was thenceforthto be the home of his favorite sister. He had seen it before, every daysince he could remember; but it seemed to have a fresh and almostmournful interest for him just now.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed, as he leaned against the fence. "Putting upladders? 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 fittoo. 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 promptlythat morning.
"Dabney, my boy, come here to the gate."
"Ham Morris is having his house painted," he remarked, as he walkedtowards his mother.
"Is he?" she said. "We'll go and see about it."
The gate between the two "side-yards" had been there from timeimmemorial, and-they walked right through. As they drew nearer theMorris house, however, Dabney discovered that carpenters as well aspainters were plying their trade in and about the old homestead. Therewere window-sashes piled here, and blinds there; a new door or so, readyfor use, a great stack of bundles of shingles, some barrels of lime, anda heap of sand. Whichever way Dab looked, there were visible signs of anapproaching 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 shacklingthings 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 atwork in almost every room.
Ham's wedding-trip would surely give plenty of time, at that rate, foran immense amount of "mending;" and his house would be, as the widow hadpromised, "all ready for him on his return."
There was nothing wonderful to Dabney in the idea of his mother goingabout and inspecting work, and finding fault, and giving directions. Hehad never seen her do any thing else, and he had the greatest confidencein her knowledge and ability. He noticed too, before they left theplace, that the customary farm-work was going ahead with even moreregularity 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 getout 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 heliked better than another, it was to have the reins in his hands andthat pair of ponies before him. Time had been when Mrs. Kinzer did herown driving, and only permitted Dab to "hold the horses" while she madeher calls, business or otherwise; but that day had been safely put awayamong Dab's unpleasant memories for a good while.
It was but a few minutes before the neat buggy held the widow and herson, and the ponies were taking them briskly down the road towards thevillage.
It they had only known it, at that very moment Ham Morris and hisblooming bride were setting out for a drive, at the fashionablewatering-place where they had made their first stop in theirwedding-tour.
"Ham," said Miranda, "it seems to me as if we were a thousand miles fromhome."
"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 thegirls, 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 threeyears."
"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 atour house a good deal, after we get home, and feed him up. I've taken aliking 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 ofthem."
"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 israther 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 issure to."
"Well," said Ham, "that was in his old clothes, that were too tight forhim. Now he's got a good loose fit, with plenty of room, you don't knowhow much more he may need. No, Miranda, I'm going to have an eye
onDab."
"You're a dear good fellow, anyway," said Miranda, with one of her verybest smiles, "and I hope mother'll have the house all ready for us whenwe get back."
"She will," replied Ham, after a moment spent in somewhat thoughtfulsilence. "Do you know, Miranda, I shall hardly be easy about that till Isee what she's done with it? It was in a dreadfully baggy condition."
Dab Kinzer: A Story of a Growing Boy Page 3
