"When he was down through the bottom of his boat. They'd have eaten him up if they'd had a chance. You see he's no shell on him." "Exactly," said Annie, as Dab lowered his fish. "Well, Dabney, I wish you would thank your mother for sending my trunk over. Your sisters, too. I've no doubt we shall be very neighborly." It was wonderfully pleasant to be called by his first name, and yet it seemed to bring something into Dabney Kinzer's throat. "She considers me a boy, and she means I'd better take my fish home," was the thought which came to him, and he was right to a fraction. So the great lump in his throat took a very wayward and boyish form, and came out as a reply, accompanied by a low bow. "I will, thank you. Good afternoon, Mrs. Foster. I'll see you to-night, Ford, about Monday and the yacht. Good afternoon, Annie." And then he marched out with his fish. "Mother, did you hear him call me 'Annie?'" "Yes; and I heard you call him 'Dabney.'" "But he's only a boy----" "I don't care!" exclaimed Ford, "he's an odd fellow, but he's a good one. Did you see how wonderfully strong he is in his arms? I couldn't lift those fish at arm's length to save my life." It was quite likely that Dab Kinzer's rowing, and all that sort of thing, had developed more strength of muscle than even he himself was aware of; but, for all that, he went home with his very ears tingling, "Could she have thought me ill-bred or impertinent?" he muttered to himself. Thought? Poor Dab Kinzer! Annie Foster had so much else to think of, just then, for she was compelled to go over, for Ford's benefit, the whole story of her tribulations at her uncle's, and the many rudenesses of Joe Hart and his brother Fuz. "They ought to be drowned," said Ford. "In ink," added Annie; "just as they drowned my poor cuffs and collars." CHAPTER X. "Look at Dabney Kinzer," whispered Jenny Walters to her mother, in church, the next morning. "Did you ever see anybody's hair as smooth as that?" And smooth it was, certainly; and he looked, all over, as if he had given all the care in the world to his personal appearance. How was Annie Foster to guess that he had got himself up so unusually on her account? She did not guess it; but when she met him at the church door, after service, she was careful to address him as "Mr. Kinzer," and that made poor Dabney blush to his very eyes. "There!" he exclaimed; "I know it." "Know what?" asked Annie. "Know what you're thinking." "Do you, indeed?" "Yes, you think I'm like the crabs." "What _do_ you mean?" [Illustration: GOING THROUGH THE BREAKERS. [SEE PAGE 683.]] "You think I was green enough till you spoke to me, and now I'm boiled red in the face."