Dab?"

Miranda thought a moment, but then she answered, positively: "No, I
don't. Not if he does as well at each one of them as Dab is sure to."

"Well," said Ham, "that was in his old clothes, that were too tight
for him. Now he's got a good loose fit, with plenty of room, you don't
know how much more he may need. No, Miranda, I'm going to have an eye
on Dabney."

"You're a dear, good fellow, anyway," said Miranda, "and I hope
mother'll have the house all ready for us when we get back."

"She will," replied Ham. "I shall hardly be easy till I see what she
has done with it."

CHAPTER IV.

"That's him!"

Dab was standing by the ponies, in front of a store in the village.
His mother was making some purchases in the store, and Dab was
thinking how the Morris house would look when it was finished, and it
was at him the old farmer was pointing in answer to a question which
had just been asked.

The questioner was the sharp-eyed boy who had bothered poor Dick Lee
that morning.

At that moment, however, a young lady--quite young--came tripping
along the sidewalk, and was stopped by Dab Kinzer with:

"There, Jenny Walters, I forgot my label!"

"Why, Dabney, is that you? How you startled me! Forgot your label?"

"Yes," said Dab; "I'm in another new suit to-day, and I want to have a
label with my name on it. You'd have known me, then."

"But I know you now," exclaimed Jenny. "Why, I saw you yesterday."

"Yes, and I told you it was me. Can you read, Jenny?"

"Why, what a question!"

"Because, if you can't, it wont do me any good to wear a label."

"Dabney Kinzer," exclaimed Jenny. "There's another 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 'em 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."

And Jenny walked proudly away, 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.

Hardly had she disappeared before Dab was confronted by the strange
boy.

"Is your name Dabney Kinzer?" said he.

"Yes, I believe so."

"Well, I'm Mr.