"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. Ford Foster, of New York." "Come over here to buy goods?" suggested Dab. "Or to get something to eat?" Ford Foster was apparently of about Dab's age, but a full head less in height, so that there was more point in the question than there seemed to be, but he treated it as not worthy of notice, and asked: "Do you know of a house to let anywhere about here?" "House to let?" suddenly exclaimed the voice of Mrs. Kinzer, behind him, much to Dab's surprise. "Are you asking about a house? Whom for?" If Ford Foster had been ready to "chaff" Dick Lee, or even Dab Kinzer, he knew enough to speak respectfully to the portly and business-like lady now before him. [Illustration: "IS YOUR NAME DABNEY KINZER?"] "Yes, madam," he said, with a ceremonious bow. "I wish to report to my father that I've found an acceptable house in this vicinity." "You do!" Mrs. Kinzer was reading the young gentleman through and through as she spoke, but she followed her exclamation with a dozen questions, and then wound up with: "Go right home, then, and tell your father the only good house to let in this neighborhood will be ready for him next week, and he'd better see me at once. Get into the buggy, Dabney." "A very remarkable woman!" muttered Ford Foster to himself as they drove away. "I must make some more inquiries." "Mother," said Dabney, "you wouldn't let 'em have Ham's house?" "No, indeed; but I don't mean to have our own stand empty." And, with that, a great deal of light began to break in on Dabney's mind. "That's it, is it?" he said to himself, as he touched up the ponies. "Well, there'll be room enough for all of us there, and no mistake. But what'll Ham say?" It was not till late the next day, however, that Ford Foster completed his inquiries. He took the afternoon train for the city, satisfied that, much as he knew before he came, he had actually learned a good deal more which was valuable.