"Then you mustn't forget me so quick," said Dab. "If you meet my old clothes anywhere you must call 'em Dick Lee. They've had a change of name."
"So, he's in them, is he? I don't doubt they look better than they ever did before."
And Jenny walked proudly away, leaving her old playmate feeling as if he had had a little the worst of it. That was often the way with people who stopped to talk with Jenny Walters, and she was not as much of a favorite as she otherwise might have been.
Hardly had she disappeared before Dab was confronted by the strange boy.
"Is your name Dabney Kinzer?" said he.
"Yes, I believe so."
"Well, I'm Mr. Ford Foster, of New York."
"Come over here to buy goods?" suggested Dab. "Or to get something to eat?"
Ford Foster was apparently of about Dab's age,[Page 559] but a full head less in height, so that there was more point in the question than there seemed to be, but he treated it as not worthy of notice, and asked: "Do you know of a house to let anywhere about here?"
"House to let?" suddenly exclaimed the voice of Mrs. Kinzer, behind him, much to Dab's surprise. "Are you asking about a house? Whom for?"