s so small, and
you've chocked it so full of furniture. Right down nice furniture it is
too; but there's so much of it, I'm afraid the minister'll have to stand
out in the front yard."

"The house'll do for this time," replied Mrs. Kinzer. "There'll be room
enough for everybody. What puzzles me is Dab."

"What about Dab?" asked Ham.

"Can't find a thing to fit him," said Dab's mother. "Seems as if he were
all odd sizes, from head to foot."

"Fit him?" exclaimed Ham. "Oh, you mean ready-made goods! Of course you
can't. He'll have to be measured by a tailor, and have his new suit
built for him."

"Such extravagance!" emphatically remarked Mrs. Kinzer.

"Not for rich people like you, and for a wedding," replied Ham; "and
Dab's a growing boy. Where is he now? I'm going to the village, and I'll
take him right along with me."

There seemed to be no help for it; but that was the first point relating
to the wedding, concerning which Ham Morris was permitted to have
exactly his own way. His success made Dab Kinzer a fast friend of his
for life, and that was something. There was also something new and
wonderful to Dabney himself, in walking into a tailor's shop, picking
out cloth to please himself, and being so carefully measured all over.
He stretched and stretched himself in all directions, to make sure
nothing should turn out too small. At the end of it all, Ham said to
him,--

"Now, Dab, my boy, this suit is to be a present from me to you, on
Miranda's account."

Dab colored and hesitated for a moment: but it seemed all right, he
thought; and so he came frankly out with,--

"Thank you, Ham. You always was a prime good fellow. I'll do as much for
you some day. Tell you what I'll do, then: I'll have another suit made
right away, of this other cloth, and have the bill for that one sent to
our folks."

"Do it!" exclaimed Ham. "Do it! You've your mother's orders for that.
She's nothing to do with my gift."

"Splendid!" almost shouted Dab. "Oh, but don't I hope they'll fit!"

"Vit," said the tailor: "vill zay vit? I dell you zay vit you like a
knife. You vait und zee."

Dab failed to get a very clear idea of what the fit would be, but it
made him almost hold his breath to think of it.

After the triumphant visit to the tailor, there was still a necessity
for a call upon the shoemaker, 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 o