Mr. Larabee, horrified.

"Well, it's got ice-cream in it," replied Dick.

"It's a sinful waste of money!" declared his uncle. "We can get all the
water we want to drink at home. But, as I am a little thirsty, I'll go
in and ask the man for a glass of plain water. He'll be glad to give it
to us."

Dick was a little doubtful on this score, and he felt that it would be
rather embarrassing to have his uncle ask for water in the drug store,
where Dick was well known. But he was too polite to object to what Mr.
Larabee did. The latter walked into the store, and, in his rasping
voice, asked for two glasses of water.

"Do you mean soda water?" inquired the clerk.

"No, plain water. I don't drink such trash as soda water," replied Mr.
Larabee.

The clerk looked at him in much astonishment, and then glanced at Dick.
The latter managed to wink, and the clerk seemed to understand. He went
to the back part of the store, and presently came back with two glasses
of water.

"There, nephew," said Mr. Larabee, triumphantly, as he sipped the plain
beverage. "You see our thirst is quenched and we have saved our money.
Young men should economize, and when they are old they will not want."

"Yes, sir," replied Dick, dutifully, but when they went out he managed
to lay ten cents on the counter where the clerk would see it. Dick
wasn't going to be made fun of the next time he went in for a glass of
soda.

"Now, I think we'll go home, Nephew Richard," suggested Mr. Larabee,
when they had walked an hour longer. "There is no use wearing out our
shoes any more than we can help. Besides, I have some business to
transact this afternoon, and I must get the papers out of my valise."

Dick was glad enough to return, and gladder still, when, the next
morning, Uncle Ezra announced that he was going back to Dankville.

"You must come and see me and your Aunt Samantha," he said to Dick, as
he bade the lad good-bye, and Dick murmured something that might be
taken as an expression of a fervent desire to pay another visit to The
Firs, but it was not.

"Dad," said Dick that night, "do you know what I'm thinking of?"

"Not exactly, you think of so many things."

"I'm thinking of those poor little fresh-air kids, and how disappointed
they must be not to get a trip to the country. I don't know as I want
them to go to Uncle Ezra's, but--er--say, dad, I'd like to give a bunch
of fresh-air kids some sort of an outing. Think of the poor little tots