that pair of ponies before him. Time had been when Mrs. Kinzer did her
own driving, and only permitted Dab to "hold the horses" while she made
her calls, business or otherwise; but that day had been safely put away
among Dab's unpleasant memories for a good while.

It was but a few minutes before the neat buggy held the widow and her
son, and the ponies were taking them briskly down the road towards the
village.

It they had only known it, at that very moment Ham Morris and his
blooming bride were setting out for a drive, at the fashionable
watering-place where they had made their first stop in their
wedding-tour.

"Ham," said Miranda, "it seems to me as if we were a thousand miles from
home."

"We shall be a good deal farther before we get any nearer," said Ham.

"But I wonder what they are doing there, this morning,--mother, and the
girls, and dear little Dabney."

"Little Dabney!" exclaimed Ham, with a queer sort of laugh on his face.
"Why, Miranda, do you think Dab is a baby yet?"

"No, not a baby, but"--

"Well, he's a boy, that's a fact; but he'll be as tall as I am in three
years."