, seven or eight
years old, pushed me into the snow."

"Was it Dabney?"

"No; but Dabney was the boy that pushed him in for doing it, and then
helped me up. Dab rubbed his face with snow for him, till he cried."

"Just like him!" exclaimed Annie with emphasis. "I should think his
friends here will miss him."

"Indeed they will," said Jenny, and then she seemed disposed to be quiet
for a while.

The party could not last forever, pleasant as it was; and by the time
his duties as "host" were all done and over, Dabney was tired enough to
go to bed and sleep soundly. His arms were lame and sore from the strain
the ponies had given them; and that may have been the reason why he
dreamed, half the night, that he was driving runaway teams, and crashing
over rickety old bridges.

There was some reason for that; but why was it that every one of his
dream-wagons, no matter who else was in it, seemed to have Jenny Walters
and Annie Foster smiling at him from the back seat?

He rose later than usual next morning, and the house was all in its
customary order by the time he got down stairs.

Breakfast was ready also; and it was hardly over before Dab's great new
trunk was brought down into the front-door passage by a couple of the
farmhands.

"It's an hour yet to train-time," said Ham Morris; "but we might as well
get ready. We must be on hand in time."

What a long hour that was! And not even a chance given to Dab to run
down to the landing for a good-by look at the "Jenny" and "The Swallow."

His mother and Ham, and Miranda, and the girls, seemed to be all made up
of "good-by" that morning.

"Mother," said Dab.

"What is it, my dear boy?"

"That's it exactly. If you say 'dear boy' again, Ham Morris'll have to
carry me to the cars. I'm all kind o' wilted now."

Then they all laughed, and before they got through laughing they all
cried except Ham.

He put his hands in his pockets, and drew a long whistle.

The ponies were at the door now. The light wagon was a roomy one; but,
when Dab's trunk had been put in, there was barely room left for the
ladies, and Dab and Ham had to walk to the station.

"I'm kind o' glad of it," said Dab.

It was a short walk, and a silent one; but when they came in sight of
the platform, Dab exclaimed,--

"There they are,--all of them!"

"The whole party?"

"Why, the platform's as crowded as our house was last night."

Mrs. Kinzer and her daughters were already the centre of a t