Dab Kinzer Part 34

All that came to pa.s.s some months later, however; and just now the village had enough to talk about in discussing the peculiar manner of his capture.

The story of the demijohn leaked out, of course; and, while it did not rob Dab and Ham of any part of their glory, it was made to do severe duty in the way of a temperance lecture.

Old Jock, indeed, protested.

"You see, boys," said he, "real good liquor, like that, don't do n.o.body no harm. That was the real stuff,--prime old apple-jack 'at I'd had in my cellar ten year last Christmas; an' it jest toled that feller across the bay, and captered him, without no manner of diffikilty."

There were some among his auditors who could have testified to a decidedly different kind of "capture."

One effect of Dab's work on the day of the yachting-trip, including his special performances as cook, and as milliner to the lobsters, was, that he felt himself thenceforth bound to be somewhat carefully polite to Joe and Fuz. The remaining days of their visit would have been altogether too few for the varied entertainments he laid out for them, in his own mind, by way of reparation for his unlucky "practical joke." They were to catch all there was in the bay. They were to ride everywhere. They were to be shown every thing there was to see.

"They don't deserve it, Dab," said Ford; "but you're a real good fellow.

Mother says so."

"Does she?" said Dab; and he evidently felt a good deal relieved, after that.

Mr. Richard Lee, when his friends once more found time to think of him, had almost disappeared from the public eye.

Some three days after "the trip," while all the other boys were out in the "Jenny," having a good time with their hooks and lines, d.i.c.k's mother made her appearance in Mrs. Kinzer's dining-room, or Miranda's, with a face that was even darker than usual, with a cloud of motherly anxiety.

"Miss Kinzer," she said, "has you seen my d.i.c.k, dis week?"

"No: he hasn't been here at all. Is there any thing the matter with him?"

"Dat's de berry question. I jes' doesn't know wot to make ob 'im."

"Why, Glorianna, do you think he's studying too hard?"

"It ain't jes' de books; I isn't so much afeard ob dem: but it's all 'long ob de 'Cad'my. I wish you'd jes' take a good look at 'im, fust chance ye git."

"Does he look badly?"

"No: 'tain't jes' altogedder his looks. He's de bes' lookin' boy 'long shoah. But den de way he's a-goin' on to talk. 'Tain't natural. He used to talk fust-rate."

"Can't he talk now?"

"Yes, Miss Kinzer, he kin talk; but den de way he gits out his words.

Nebber seen sech a t'ing in all my born days. Takes him ebber so long jes' to say good-mornin'. An' he doesn't say it like he use ter. I wish you'd jes' take a good look at 'im."

Mrs. Kinzer promised, and she gave her black friend what comfort she could; but d.i.c.k Lee's tongue would never again be the free-and-easy member of society it had been. Even when at home, and about his commonest "ch.o.r.es," he was all the while struggling with what he called his "p.r.o.nounciation." If he should succeed as well with the rest of his "schooling," it was safe to say that it would not be thrown away upon him.

Glorianna went her way that morning; and the next to intrude upon Mrs.

Kinzer's special domain was her son-in-law himself, accompanied by his blooming bride.

"We've got a plan."

"You? Apian? What about?"

"Dab and his friends."

That was the beginning of a tolerably long consultation, and the results of it were duly reported to Dabney when he came home with his fish.

"A party?" he exclaimed, when his mother finished her brief but comprehensive statement: "Ham and Miranda to give a party for us boys?

Well, now, if they're not right down good! But, mother, we'll have to get it up mighty quick."

"I know it, Dab; but that's easy enough, with all the help we have. I'll take care of that."

"A party! but, mother, what can we do? There's only a few of 'em know how to dance. I don't, for one."

"You must talk it over with Ford. Perhaps Annie and Frank can help you."

They were all taken into counsel soon enough; and endless were the plans and propositions made, till even Mrs. Kinzer found her temper getting a little fretted and worried over them.

At all events, it was a settled fact that the "party" was to be; and the invitations went out in due and proper form.

"Miranda," said her mother, on the morning of the important day, "we must manage to get rid of Dabney and those boys for a few hours."

"Send 'em for some greens to rig the parlor with," suggested Ham. "Let 'em take the ponies."

"Do you think the ponies are safe for them to drive, just now?"

"Oh! Dab can handle 'em. They're a trifle skittish, that's all. They need a little exercise."

So they did; but it was to be doubted if the best way to secure it for them was to send them out in a light, two-seated wagon, with a load of five lively boys.

"Now, don't you let one of the other boys touch the reins," said Mrs.

Kinzer.

Dab's promise to that effect proved a hard one to keep; for Fuz and Joe almost tried to take the reins away from him, before they had driven two miles from the house. He was firm, however, and they managed to reach the strip of woodland, some five miles inland, where they were to gather their load, without any disaster; but it was evident to Dab, all the way, that his ponies were in uncommonly "high" condition. He took them out of the wagon, while the rest began to gather their liberal harvest of evergreens; and he did not bring them near it again until all was ready for the start homeward.

"Now, boys," he said, "you get in; Joe and Ford and Fuz on the back seat, to hold down the greens. Frank, get up there, forward, while I hitch in the ponies. These fellows are chuck full of mischief."

Very full, certainly; nor did Dab Kinzer know exactly what the matter was for a minute or so after he seized the reins and sprang up beside Frank Harley.

Then, indeed, as the ponies kicked and reared and plunged, he thought he saw something work out from under their collars, and fall to the ground.

An acorn-burr is just the thing to worry a restive horse, if put in such a place; but Joe and Fuz had hardly expected their "little joke" to be so very successful as it was.

The ponies were off now!

"Joe," shouted Fuz, "let's jump!"

"Don't let 'em, Ford," exclaimed Dab, giving his whole energies to the horses. "They'll break their necks if they do. Hold 'em in."

Ford, who was in the middle, promptly seized an arm of each of his panic-stricken cousins, while Frank clambered over the seat to help him.

They were all down on the bottom now, serving as a, weight to hold the evergreen branches, as the light wagon bounced and rattled along over the smooth, level road.

In vain Dab pulled and pulled at the ponies. Run they would, and run they did; and all he could do was to keep them fairly in the road.