Samantha's fingers fidgeted a little with the tidy they were holding;
but Mrs. Kinzer said composedly,--

"Well, Dabney, I've been thinking about it. You ought not to be tied
down all the while. Suppose you take next week pretty much to yourself:
Samantha won't want the ponies every day. The other horses have all got
to work, or I'd let you have one of them."

Dabney got up, for want of a better answer, and walked over to where his
mother was sitting, and gave the thoughtful matron a good sounding kiss.

At the same time he could not help thinking,--

"This comes of Ham Morris and my new rig."

"There, Dabney, that'll do," said his mother; "but how'll you spend
Saturday?"

"Guess I'll take Ford Foster out in the bay, a-crabbing, if he'll go,"
replied Dabney. "I'll run over and ask him."

It was not too late, and he was out of the house before there was any
chance for further remarks from the girls.

"Now," he muttered, as he walked along, "I'll have to see old lawyer
Foster, and Mrs. Foster, and I don't know who all besides. I don't like
that."

Just as he came to the north fence, however, he was hailed by a clear,