Dab Kinzer: A Story of a Growing Boy by William O. Stoddard (reading books for 6 year olds .TXT) 📖

to us three, the men that work their brains the hardest around here are Mr. Fallow and my friend Dr. Brandegee."

"And you never asked me a word about it!"

"About what?" inquired Dabney. "I must say I don't quite understand. Do you mean, about what we were to do with our fish?"

"Of course I do. I can't allow"—

She hesitated a moment, as if the next words were slow in coming; and
Dab helped her out with,—

"Can't allow what, Mrs. Myers?" and Ford added,—

"Now, Mrs. Myers, there's nothing healthier than fish. It won't hurt either of 'em. Is supper ready?"

"I hope it is," said Dab. "I'm getting hungry again."

Mrs. Myers looked at them in amazement; and so did Miss Almira, for, if one thing was plainer than another, it was that neither of those three boys understood the nature of her complaint. It did not seem to occur to them, that she had, or could, or would claim any control over the results of their day's fun; not even when she said,—

"I intended one string for Deacon Short, and another for Mrs.
Sunderland"—

"Don't work their brains, Mrs. Myers," said Ford. "Don't need any fish.
But then, if we have as good luck next time, we'll bear them in mind.
We've kept enough pan-fish for breakfast, and the big ones'll be just
the thing for dinner."

That had been the plan of Mrs. Myers herself; for she had already said to Almira,—

"It'll be a real saving, and the corned beef'll be just as good on
Monday."

More talk would hardly improve such a case as that; and it was really beginning to dawn upon Mrs. Myers, that her three boy boarders had minds and wills of their own, moreover, that they had not the most distant idea of failing to exercise them on every proper occasion.

CHAPTER XXXII. OLD FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS OF HIS COME TO VISIT DABNEY.

"Boys," remarked Dab Kinzer, when they gathered in their own room after supper, "I can't say we've learned a great deal this first week; but we've found a tiptop fishing-ground, and we've settled the Hart boys."

"Shouldn't wonder if Mrs. Myers feels a good deal more settled than she did too," said Ford. "But I'm thinking what Frank Harley's going to do with his fingers, when we can give him a chance. We've loads of fun ahead, or I'm mistaken."

"I won't try it on very often," said Frank. "Fun's fun, that's a fact; but I came here to learn something."

"My dear young friend," said Ford, with a sudden imitation of Mr. Fallow, "think of how much you've learned in seven days. Dab's beginning to know so much, he can't talk."

"I'm not just comfortable about Dick," said Dabney.

"Oh! he'll come out all right: the corn's mostly shelled, and the woodpile can't last forever. He doesn't know how to run a sewing-machine. She tried making him read aloud to her and Almira, last night; but Dick thinks she won't ask him to do it again. Don't be troubled about Richard: his future is safe."

Part of it undoubtedly; and the boys had "settled" more things for themselves and him than those they mentioned.

They had settled their own position among the boys of the academy and the village, old and young; for every soul of them had heard about "the big fight on the green" before he went to bed that night. They had secured Dick Lee's position for him: not that they had given him a false one, but that he would be safe to enjoy, almost unmolested, whatever position his own conduct might earn for him. That was all any boy ought to have, black or white.

They had done much, as Ford said, to settle their own position at their boarding-house; but that was nothing of importance compared to the impression they had made upon the large heart and brain of the stately academy principal. They had made a firm friend of him, and of others whose friendship was worth having.

All that was a great deal to have accomplished in one short week, but there was much more that would require their immediate attention.

Books, fishing, lectures, base-ball, French, pigeon-shooting, elocution, kites, composition, nutting, and the academy debating society; and the list of the future demands upon their time grew as they talked, until Ford exclaimed,—

"Hold on, boys: my brains won't stand any more till after I've eaten a supply of fish."

They ought all to have been able to think harder, after the next day's breakfast and dinner; but the "corned beef" came on Monday, and with it, as usual, came corn in other forms. "The farm" had done well that year, with that particular crop; but so had all the other farms, east and west, and Mrs. Myers found her best market for her maize harvest at her own table. It would take a good while to dispose of what Dick had already shelled, and all she could do was to be liberal as to quantity. There was no fault to be found with her on that score, but Dabney did not ask for any more recipes to send home to his mother.

The second week was much longer than the first. Saturday came around very nearly in its own turn this time; but it brought with it such a storm of wind and rain as not only shut Green Pond out of all possible calculations, but kept the village green as well, clear of all boys.

It was a good time to write letters in, and those written were long ones; but they did not contain a solitary complaint of any thing the boys had yet discovered in or about Grantley.

"Hamilton," said Mrs. Kinzer, after pondering a little over her letter when it came, "Dabney seems to be well satisfied."

"Mrs. Foster says Ford and Frank are."

"But I notice he doesn't say any thing about his appetite. I do hope he isn't losing it. He seems to be studying hard."

"Dabney? Lose his appetite in less than two weeks? No, mother Kinzer, it would take him longer than that."

It was just one week later that he showed her a part of a curious epistle he had himself received from Dab. It had evidently been written in a moment of what is called "confidence."

"I tell you what, Ham," he wrote, "mother doesn't know what can be done with corn. Mrs. Myers does. She raised a heap of it, this year; and the things she turns it into would drive a cook-book crazy. I've been giving them Latin names; and Frank, he turns them into Hindustanee. It's real fun sometimes, but I sha'n't be the boy I was. I'm getting corned. My hair is silkier, and my voice is husky. My ears are growing. I'd like a few clams and some fish, once in a while, just for a change. A crab would taste wonderfully good. So would some oysters, and they don't have any up here. We've had one good day's fishing, since we came; but we had to go miles and miles after it. Now, don't you tell mother we don't get enough to eat. There's plenty of it, and you ought to see Mrs. Myers smile when she passes the johnnycake. We're all trying to learn that heavenly smile. Ford does it best. I think Dick Lee is getting a little pale. Perhaps corn doesn't agree with him. He's learning fast, though, and so am I; but we have to work harder than Ford and Frank. I guess the Hart boys know more than they did when they got here; and they didn't learn it all out of their books, either. We keep up our French and our boxing; but oh, wouldn't I like to go for some blue-fish just now! Has mother made any mince-pies yet? I've almost forgotten how they taste. I was going by a house, the other day, and I smelt some ham cooking. I was real glad I hadn't forgotten. I knew what it was, right away. Don't you be afraid about my studying; for I'm at it all the while, except when we're playing ball or eating corn. They say they have sleighing here earlier than we do, and more of it, and plenty of skating. Well, now, don't say any thing to mother about the corn; but won't I eat when I get home! Yours all the while, DABNEY KINZER."

"Why, the poor fellow!" exclaimed Mrs. Kinzer. "It's enough to stop his growth."

It was not many days after that, before Dabney received a couple of boxes by express. The "marks" told where they came from; and he and the other boys carried them right up stairs, in the face of a kind suggestion from Mrs. Myers that "they might take them right out into the kitchen, and open them there."

She had almost ceased from putting her wishes in any more dictatorial form; but she and Almira wondered exceedingly what might be the contents of those boxes.

Dab was only a minute or so in finding out what was in one of them.

"Boiled ham! A whole one! Out with it, Frank. All that brown paper,—why, it's a pair of chickens, all ready to roast."

"Something more's down under those slats," said Ford, in a tone of great excitement.

"Mince-pies! And they're not much mashed, either. It's wonderful how they did pack them."

"Slats and shingles and paper," said Ford. "What can there be in that other box?"

"Shall we eat first, or open it?"

"Open it! Open it! Maybe they've sent you some corn."

Opened it was, with a desperate display of energy.

"Ice!" said Frank Harley.

"Sawdust!" shouted Ford.

"Fish!" said Dabney. "Clams, oysters, crabs, lobsters."

Dick Lee had gazed in absolute silence up to that very moment; and all he could say now was,—

"Ah-h-h! O-h-h-h! Jes' ain't dey fine!"

"Boys," said Dab, with a sort of loving look at the contents of that box, "do you suppose we can eat those fellows?"

"Eat 'em!" exclaimed Ford. "Why, after they're cooked!"

"Well, I s'pose we can; but I feel more like shaking hands with 'em all around, just now. They're old friends and neighbors of mine, you know."

"Yes; but I guess we'd better eat them."

"Cap'n Dab," said Dick, "dey jes' knock all de correck pronounciation out ob me, dey does."

"Ford, Frank, I'll ask Mrs. Myers and Almira up here right away. Those oysters and clams have got to be eaten this very evening."

They did not need twice asking; and there was a thoughtful expression on the face of Mrs. Myers when she looked from one box into the other. It was fairly on her tongue's end to suggest what share of those luxuries should be taken at once to Deacon Short's or Mrs. Sunderland's; but she stopped in time, for that thought was followed by another,—

"What could the boys have been writing home about her cooking and her table?"

There might be something serious in it; for boarders were people who came and went, boys or no boys, and Dab and his friends were just the kind of boys to "come and go." At all events, she could not object to their having such a supply as that sent them; and she took up the responsibility of all the cookery required, at once.

It was a feast while it lasted, and the effects of it upon the character of Mrs. Myers's table were permanent.

There was no further danger that Dab's growth would be checked in any such manner as his mother had feared.

Nor was there any great doubt remaining as to the steadiness of his growth in other ways, during his school days at Grantley; for he and his friends were now "settled;" and they had made that most important success in life,—a Good Beginning.

THE END.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dab Kinzer, by William O. Stoddard