A few minutes more and Dabney appeared on the fence of the old cross-road leading down to the shore. There he sat, eying one passer-by after another, till he suddenly sprang from his perch, exclaiming: "That's just the chap. Why, they'll fit him, and that's more'n they ever did for me."
Dab would probably have had to search along the coast for miles before he could have found a human being better suited to his present charitable purposes than the boy who now came so lazily down the road.
There was no doubt about his color, or that he was all over of about the same shade of black. His old tow trousers and calico shirt revealed the shining fact in too many places to leave room for a question, and shoes he had none.
"Dick," said Dabney, "was you ever married?"
"Married!" exclaimed Dick, with a peal of very musical laughter. "Is I married? No! Is you?"
"No," replied Dabney, "but I was mighty near it, this morning."
"Dat so?" asked Dick, with another show of his white teeth. "Done ye good, den. Nebber seen ye look so nice afore."
"You'd look nicer'n I do, if you were only dressed up," said Dab. "Just you put on these."
"Golly!" exclaimed the black boy. But he seized the bundle Dab threw him, and he had it open in a twinkling. "Anyt'ing in de pockets?" he asked.
"Guess