"Ice. Sawdust. Fish, I declare. Clams. Oysters. Crabs. There's a lobster. Ford, Frank, Dick, do you think we can eat those fellows?"
"After they're cooked," said Ford.
"Well, I s'pose we can; but I feel like shaking hands with 'em, all round. They're old friends and neighbors of mine, you know."
"I guess we'd better eat 'em."
"Cap'n Dab," remarked Dick Lee, "dey jest knocks all de correck pronounciation clean out of me."
Eaten they were, however, and Mrs Myers was glad enough to have her boarders supply such a remarkable "variety" for her table, which, after that "hint," began to improve a little.
And so we leave Dab Kinzer, still, in mind and body, as when first we saw him, a growing boy.