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Updated: June 24, 2025
Foster is going to send Ford to, and Frank Harley." "Exactly," said Ham; "Mr. Hart spoke of a Mr. Foster, his brother-in-law, a lawyer." "Why," said Keziah, "he's living in our old house now. Ford Foster is Dab's greatest crony. They're the very people you met at the landing." "Yes, I've heard all that," said Ham, "but somehow I hadn't put the two things together.
Down he went, and over went Fuz on top of him; and then there were four or five boys all in a heap, with Dick's basket upset just beyond them, and Dick himself diving hither and thither after its late contents, and exclaiming, "Cap'n Dab's come! I's all right now. Jes' let me pick up some ob dese t'ings."
An oar is almost as good a club as the lower joint of a fishing-rod, and that was exactly the thought in Dab's mind. Ham and Frank and Ford hurried back to the other beach, to find that Mrs. Kinzer had taken complete possession of that baby.
"I didn't mean to talk slang, mother: I only meant well, you know how dreadfully black he is; but then, he can steer a boat tiptop, and he's splendid for crabs and bluefish; and Dab says he's a good scholar too." "Dab's a very good boy," said Mrs. Foster; "but your friend Dick will need an outfit, I imagine, clothing, and almost every thing. I must see Mrs. Kinzer about it."
"Now I'll see what can be done about that other matter." Two plans in one head, and so young a head as that? Yes; and it spoke well for Dab's heart, as well as his brains, that his plan number two was not a selfish one. The substance of it came out in the first five minutes of the talk he had, a trifle later, with Ford and Frank, on the other side of the gate.
Dab's beginning to know so much, he can't talk." "I'm not just comfortable about Dick," said Dabney. "Oh! he'll come out all right: the corn's mostly shelled, and the woodpile can't last forever. He doesn't know how to run a sewing-machine. She tried making him read aloud to her and Almira, last night; but Dick thinks she won't ask him to do it again.
The boy is actually well dressed, for a place like this." "Mother," said Dabney, as they drove along, "you wouldn't let 'em have Ham's house, would you?" "No, indeed. But I don't mean to have our own stand empty." With that reply a great deal of light broke in upon Dab's mind. "That's it, is it?" he said to himself, as he touched up the ponies.
They live in our old house, you know." "What's become of Jenny?" "You mean my boat? There she is, hitched a little out, just beyond the landing." There was nothing on Dab's face to lead any one to suppose that he guessed the meaning of the quizzical grin on Ham's.
After the triumphant visit to the tailor, there was still a necessity for a call upon the shoe-maker, and that was a matter of no small importance. Dab's feet had always been a mystery and a trial to him. If his memory contained one record darker than another, it was the endless history of his misadventures with boots and shoes.
Ford Foster was apparently of about Dab's age, but a full head less in height, so that there was more point in the question than there seemed to be; but he treated it as not worthy of notice, and asked, "Do you know of a house to let anywhere about here?" "House to let?" suddenly exclaimed the voice of Mrs. Kinzer, behind him, much to Dab's surprise. "Are you asking about a house? Whom for?"
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