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"Well, no," said Joe: "you fellows go over, soon as you please. Fuz and I won't take our breakfast there this morning." "Going somewhere else, eh? Well, we'll have an eye to your trunks when they come." The giggle grew rapidly into a laugh, as Fuz exclaimed, "Trunks! why, our baggage'll go to our boarding-house. We don't put up with Mother Myers this time: got a new place.
He muttered something about those being all the vegetables he had, and retreated to the kitchen. Joe and Fuz, however, were not of the sort that take offence easily; and they were shortly helping themselves quite liberally to lobster, cuffs or no cuffs. That was all that was necessary to restore harmony at the table, but Dab's plan for "punishing the Hart boys" was a complete failure.
Their first errand was to the baggage-room; and they were on their way when Dab Kinzer thoughtfully remarked, "Now, Joe, here we've dragged you and Fuz away up here, miles and miles out of your way." "That's so," said Ford, "but they can take a street-car down. They've got hours of time to spare." "No hurry," said Joe: "we'll see you off." But Fuz whispered to him, "Time's up, Joe.
"No, Hamilton, the provisions." Not a soul among them all thought of their own lunch, any more than Mrs. Kinzer herself did; but Joe and Fuz were not among them just then. On the contrary, they were over there by the shore, where the "Jenny" had been pulled up, trying to get Dab Kinzer to put them on board "The Swallow."
"I half made her a promise" "That we'd board there?" exclaimed Fuz rebelliously. "Now, boys," said their mother, in a gentle voice, that sounded a little like good Mrs. Foster's; but Joe sustained his brother with, "Prison-fare, and not half enough of it. I just won't stand it another winter!"
Others, however, were thinking of the future, as well as themselves; and Joe and Fuz furnished the subject for more than one animated discussion among the boys down there by the Long Island shore. Ford Foster gave his two friends the full benefit of all he knew concerning his cousins. "It's a good thing for you," he said to Frank, "that the steamer didn't go ashore anywhere near their house.
"Such piles of provisions as they've stowed away in that kennel!" The bit of a water-tight cabin under the half-deck, at which Fuz pointed, was pretty well filled, beyond a doubt, but Mrs. Kinzer knew what she was about. She had provided lunch for most of that party before, and the effect of the sea-air was also to be taken into account.
9½. The housekeepers’ train. Fat, middle-aged women, with cotton umbrellas black stockings with blue fuz on them; meek-looking men, officiating as husbands, and an occasional small child, in plaid and the small-pox. The lawyers’ train.
Hart set herself about her usual duties, Joe and Fuz took with them into the street the whole Grantley question. "We'll have to go, Fuz." "Of course. But we must have more to eat, and more fun, than we had last time." "Ford's coming, is he? The little prig! We'll roast him." "So we will that young missionary." "Look out about him, Joe, while he's at our house. He's coming right here, you know."
"Don't be afflicted, my friend. He's as white as anybody, except on Fridays: this is his black day. Hurry up the soup and fish." Joe and Fuz were looking as if they were dreadfully ashamed of something; but poor Dick was sitting up as straight as a ramrod, under the influence of a glance that he had taken at the face of Dab Kinzer. "I isn't goin' back on him and Ford," he said to himself.