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DAB KINZER
A STORY OF A GROWING BOY
BY
WILLIAM O. STODDARD
1884
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.THE KINZER FARM, THE NEW SUIT, AND THE WEDDING.
CHAPTER II.DAB'S OLD CLOTHES GET A NEW BOY TO FIT.
CHAPTER III.A MEMBER OF ONE OF THE OLDEST FAMILIES MEETS A YOUNGGENTLEMAN FROM THE CITY.
CHAPTER IV.TWO BOYS, ONE PIG, AND AN UNFORTUNATE RAILWAY-TRAIN.
CHAPTER V.NEW NEIGHBORS, AND GETTING SETTLED.
CHAPTER VI.CRABS, BOYS, AND A BOAT-WRECK.
CHAPTER VII.A VERY ACCIDENTAL CALL.
CHAPTER VIII.A RESCUE, AND A GRAND GOOD TIME.
CHAPTER IX.THERE ARE DIFFERENT KINDS OF BOYS.
CHAPTER X.A CRUISE IN "THE SWALLOW".
CHAPTER XI.SPLENDID FISHING, AND A BIG FOG.
CHAPTER XII.HOW THE GAME OF "FOLLOW MY LEADER" CAN BE PLAYEDAT SEA.
CHAPTER XIII."HOME AGAIN! HERE WE ARE!".
CHAPTER XIV.A GREAT MANY THINGS GETTING READY TO COME.
CHAPTER XV.DABNEY KINZER TO THE RESCUE.
CHAPTER XVI.DAB KINZER AND HAM MORRIS TURN INTO A FIRE-DEPARTMENT.
CHAPTER XVII.DAB HAS A WAKING DREAM, AND HAM GETS A SNIFF OF SEA-AIR.
CHAPTER XVIII.HOW DAB WORKED OUT ANOTHER OF HIS GREAT PLANS.
CHAPTER XIX.A GRAND SAILING-PARTY, AND AN EXPERIMENT BY RICHARD LEE.
CHAPTER XX.A WRECK AND SOME WRECKERS.
CHAPTER XXI.DAB AND HIS FRIENDS TURN THEMSELVES INTO COOKS AND WAITERS.
CHAPTER XXII.THE REAL MISSION OF THE JUG.
CHAPTER XXIII.ANOTHER GRAND PLAN, AND A VERY GRAND RUNAWAY.
CHAPTER XXIV.DABNEY'S GREAT PARTY.
CHAPTER XXV.THE BOYS ON THEIR TRAVELS. A GREAT CITY, AND A GREAT DINNER.
CHAPTER XXVI.THE FIRST MORNING IN GRANTLEY, AND ANOTHER EXCELLENT JOKE.
CHAPTER XXVII.A NEW KIND OF EXAMINATION.
CHAPTER XXVIII.AN UNUSUAL AMOUNT OF INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER XXIX.LETTERS HOME FROM THE BOYS.--DICK LEE'S FIRST GRIEF.
CHAPTER XXX.DABNEY KINZER TRIES FRESH-WATER FISHING FOR THE FIRST TIME.
CHAPTER XXXI.A FIGHT, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
CHAPTER XXXII.OLD FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS OF HIS COME TO VISIT DABNEY.
DAB KINZER
CHAPTER I.
THE KINZER FARM, THE NEW SUIT, AND THE WEDDING.
Between the village and the inlet, and half a mile from the great "bay,"lay the Kinzer farm. Beyond the bay was a sandbar, and beyond that theAtlantic Ocean; for all this was on the southerly shore of Long Island.
The Kinzer farm had lain right there--acre for acre, no more, noless--on the day when Hendrik Hudson long ago sailed the good ship "HalfMoon" into New-York Bay. But it was not then known to any one as theKinzer farm. Neither was there then, as now, any bright and growingvillage crowding up on one side of it, with a railway-station and apost-office. Nor was there, at that time, any great and busy city of NewYork, only a few hours' ride away, over on the island of Manhattan. TheKinzers themselves were not there then. But the bay and the inlet, withthe fish and the crabs, and the ebbing and flowing tides, were there,very much the same, before Hendrik Hudson and his brave Dutchmen knewany thing whatever about that corner of the world.
The Kinzer farm had always been a reasonably "fat" one, both as to sizeand quality; and the good people who lived on it had generally been of asomewhat similar description. It was, therefore, every way correct andbecoming for Dabney Kinzer's widowed mother and his sisters to be theplump and hearty beings they were, and all the more discouraging to poorDabney that no amount of regular and faithful eating seemed to make himresemble them at all in that respect.
Mrs. Kinzer excused his thinness, to her neighbors, to be sure, on theground that he was "such a growing boy;" but, for all that, he caughthimself wondering, now and then, if he would never be done with thatpart of his trials. For rapid growth has its trials.
"The fact is," he said to himself one day, as he leaned over the northfence, "I'm more like Ham Morris's farm than I am like ours. His farm isbigger than ours, all round; but it's too big for its fences, just asI'm too big for my clothes. Ham's house is three times as large as ours,but it looks as if it had grown too fast. It hasn't any paint to speakof, nor any blinds. It looks as if somebody'd just built it there, andthen forgot it, and gone oft and left it out of doors."
Dabney's four sisters had all come into the world before him; but he wasas tall as any of them, and was frequently taken by strangers for a goodtwo years older than he was. It was sometimes very hard for him, a boyof fifteen, to live up to what was expected of those extra two years.
Mrs. Kinzer still kept him in roundabouts; but they did not seem tohinder his growth at all, if that was her object in so doing.
There was no such thing, however, as keeping the four girls inroundabouts of any kind; and, what between them and their mother, thepleasant and tidy little Kinzer homestead, with its snug parlor and itscosey bits of rooms and chambers, seemed to nestle away, under theshadowy elms and sycamores, smaller and smaller with every year thatcame.
It was a terribly tight fit for such a family, anyway; and, now thatDabney was growing at such a rate, there was no telling what they wouldall come to. But Mrs. Kinzer came at last to the rescue; and shesummoned her eldest daughter, Miranda, to her aid.
A very notable woman was the widow. When the new railway cut off part ofthe old farm, she had split up the slice of land between the iron trackand the village into "town lots," and had sold them all off by the timethe railway company paid her for the "damage" it had done the property.
The whole Kinzer family gained visibly in plumpness that year, except,perhaps, Dabney.
Of course the condition and requirements of Ham Morris and his big farm,just over the north fence, had not escaped such a pair of eyes as thoseof the widow; and the very size of his great barn of a house finallysettled his fate for him.
A large, quiet, unambitious, but well-brought-up and industrious youngman was Hamilton Morris, and he had not the least idea of the good instore for him for several months after Mrs. Kinzer decided to marry himto her daughter Miranda; but all was soon settled. Dab, of course, hadnothing to do with the wedding arrangements, and Ham's share wassomewhat contracted. Not but what he was at the Kinzer house a gooddeal; nor did any of the other girls tell Miranda how very much he wasin the way. He could talk, however; and one morning, about a fortnightbefore the day appointed, he said to Miranda and her mother,--
"We can't have so very much of a wedding: your house is so small, andyou've chocked it so full of furniture. Right down nice furniture it istoo; but there's so much of it, I'm afraid the minister'll have to standout in the front yard."
"The house'll do for this time," replied Mrs. Kinzer. "There'll be roomenough for everybody. What puzzles me is Dab."
"What about Dab?" asked Ham.
"Can't find a thing to fit him," said Dab's mother. "Seems as if he wereall odd sizes, from head to foot."
"Fit him?" exclaimed Ham. "Oh, you mean ready-made goods! Of course youcan't. He'll have to be measured by a tailor, and have his new suitbuilt for him."
"Such extravagance!" emphatically remarked Mrs. Kinzer.
"Not for rich people like you, and for a wedding," replied Ham; "andDab's a growing boy. Where is he now? I'm going to the village, and I'lltake him right along with me."
There seemed to be no help for it; but that was the first point relatingto the wedding, con
cerning which Ham Morris was permitted to haveexactly his own way. His success made Dab Kinzer a fast friend of hisfor life, and that was something. There was also something new andwonderful to Dabney himself, in walking into a tailor's shop, pickingout cloth to please himself, and being so carefully measured all over.He stretched and stretched himself in all directions, to make surenothing should turn out too small. At the end of it all, Ham said tohim,--
"Now, Dab, my boy, this suit is to be a present from me to you, onMiranda's account."
Dab colored and hesitated for a moment: but it seemed all right, hethought; and so he came frankly out with,--
"Thank you, Ham. You always was a prime good fellow. I'll do as much foryou some day. Tell you what I'll do, then: I'll have another suit maderight away, of this other cloth, and have the bill for that one sent toour folks."
"Do it!" exclaimed Ham. "Do it! You've your mother's orders for that.She's nothing to do with my gift."
"Splendid!" almost shouted Dab. "Oh, but don't I hope they'll fit!"
"Vit," said the tailor: "vill zay vit? I dell you zay vit you like aknife. You vait und zee."
Dab failed to get a very clear idea of what the fit would be, but itmade him almost hold his breath to think of it.
After the triumphant visit to the tailor, there was still a necessityfor a call upon the shoemaker, and that was a matter of no smallimportance. Dab's feet had always been a mystery and a trial to him. Ifhis memory contained one record darker than another, it was the endlesshistory of his misadventures with boots and shoes. He and leather hadbeen at war from the day he left his creeping-clothes until now. But nowhe was promised a pair of shoes that would be sure to fit.
So the question of Dab's personal appearance at the wedding was allarranged between him and Ham; and Miranda smiled more sweetly than everbefore upon the latter, after she had heard her usually silent brotherbreak out so enthusiastically about him as he did that evening.
It was a good thing for that wedding, that it took place in fine summerweather; for neither kith, kin, nor acquaintances had been slighted inthe invitations, and the Kinzers were one of the "oldest families."
To have gathered them all under the roof of that house, without eitherstretching it out wider or boiling the guests down, would have been outof the question; and so the majority, with Dabney in his new clothes tokeep them countenance, stood out in the cool shade of the grand oldtrees during the ceremony, which was performed near the open door; andwere afterwards served with the refreshments in a style which spokevolumes for Mrs. Kinzer's good management, as well as for herhospitality.
The only drawback to Dab's happiness that day was that his acquaintanceshardly seemed to know him. He had had almost the same trouble withhimself, when he looked in the glass that morning.
Ordinarily, his wrists were several inches through his coat-sleeves, andhis ankles made a perpetual show of his stockings. His neck, too, seemedto be holding his head as far as possible from his coat-collar, and hisbuttons had no favors to ask of his button-holes.
Now, even as the tailor had promised, he had received his "first fit."He seemed to himself, to tell the truth, to be covered up in a prodigalwaste of new cloth. Would he ever, ever, grow too big for such a suit ofclothes as that? It was a very painful thought, and he did his best toput it away from him.
Still, it was a little hard to have a young lady, whom he had knownsince before she began to walk, remark to him,--
"Excuse me, sir, but can you tell me if Mr. Dabney Kinzer is here?"
"No, Jenny Walters," sharply responded Dab, "he isn't here."
"Why, Dabney!" exclaimed the pretty Jenny. "Is that you? I declare, youhave scared me out of a year's growth!"
"I wish you'd scare me, then," said Dab. "Then my clothes would stayfitted."
Every thing had been so well arranged beforehand, thanks to Mrs. Kinzer,that the wedding had no chance at all except to go off well. Ham Morriswas rejoiced to find how entirely he was relieved of everyresponsibility.
"Don't worry about your house," the widow said to him, the night beforethe wedding. "We'll go over there, as soon as you and Miranda get away,and it'll be all ready for you by the time you get back."
"All right," said Ham. "I'll be glad to have you take the old place inhand. I've only tried to live in a corner of it. You don't know how muchroom there is. I don't, I must say."
Dabney had longed to ask her if she meant to have it moved over to theKinzer side of the north fence, but he had doubts as to the propriety ofit; and just then the boy came in from the tailor's with his bundle ofnew clothes.