to the north fence, for a good look at the house which was thenceforth
to be the home of his favorite sister. He had seen it before, every day
since he could remember; but it seemed to have a fresh and almost
mournful interest for him just now.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed, as he leaned against the fence. "Putting up
ladders? Oh, yes, I see! That's old Tommy McGrew, the house-painter.
Well, Ham's house needs a new coat as badly as I did. Sure it'll fit
too. Only it ain't used to it, any more'n I am."

"Dabney!"

It was his mother's voice, and Dab felt like "minding" very promptly
that morning.

"Dabney, my boy, come here to the gate."

"Ham Morris is having his house painted," he remarked, as he walked
towards his mother.

"Is he?" she said. "We'll go and see about it."

The gate between the two "side-yards" had been there from time
immemorial, and-they walked right through. As they drew nearer the
Morris house, however, Dabney discovered that carpenters as well as
painters were plying their trade in and about the old homestead. There
were window-sashes piled here, and blinds there; a new door or so, ready
for use, a great stack of bundles of shingles, some barrels of lime, and
a heap of sand. Whichever way Dab looked, there were visible signs of an
approaching renovation.