r thing you ought to
get."

"What's that?"

"Some good manners," said the little lady snappishly. "Think of your
stopping me in the street to tell me I can't read!"

"Then you mustn't forget me so quick," said Dab. "If you meet my old
clothes anywhere you must call them Dick Lee. They've had a change of
name."

"So he's in them, is he? I don't doubt they look better than they ever
did before."

Jenny walked away at once, at the end of that remark, holding her head
pretty high, and leaving her old playmate feeling as if he had had a
little the worst of it. That was often the way with people who stopped
to talk with Jenny Walters, and she was not as much of a favorite as she
otherwise might have been.

Dabney looked after her with his mouth puckered into shape for a
whistle; but she had hardly disappeared before he found himself
confronted by the strange young gentleman.

"Is your name Dabney Kinzer?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Well, I'm Mr. Ford Foster, from New York."

"Come over here to buy goods?" suggested Dabney. "Or to get something to
eat?"

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?"

Ford Foster had been quite ready to "chaff" Dick Lee, and he would not
have hesitated about trying a like experiment upon Mr. Dabney Kinzer;
but he knew enough to speak respectfully to the portly and business-like
lady before him now.

"Yes, madam," he said, with a ceremonious bow: "I wish to report to my
father that I have found an acceptable house in this vicinity."

"You do!"

Mrs. Kinzer was reading the young gentleman through and through, as she
spoke; but she followed her exclamation with a dozen questions, all of
which he answered with a good deal of clearness and intelligence. She
wound up at last, with,--

"Go right home, then, and tell your father the only good house to let in
this neighborhood will be ready for him next week. I'll show it to him
when he comes, but he'd better see me at once. Dabney, jump into the
buggy. I'm in a hurry."

The ponies were in motion, up the street, before Ford Foster quite
recovered from the shock of being told to "go r