"Feed him up!" said Miranda. "Do you think we starve him?"
"No, I suppose not; but how many meals a day does he get?"
"Three, of course, like the rest of us; and he never misses one of them."
"Exactly," said Ham: "I shouldn't suppose he would. I never miss a meal, myself, if I can help it. But don't you think three meals a day is rather short allowance for a boy like Dab?"
Miranda thought a moment, but then she answered positively,—
"No, I don't. Not if he does as well at each one of them as Dabney is sure to."
"Well," said Ham, "that was in his old clothes, that were too tight for him. Now he's got a good loose fit, with plenty of room, you don't know how much more he may need. No, Miranda, I'm going to have an eye on Dab."
"You're a dear good fellow, anyway," said Miranda, with one of her very best smiles, "and I hope mother'll have the house all ready for us when we get back."
"She will," replied Ham, after a moment spent in somewhat thoughtful silence. "Do you know, Miranda, I shall hardly be easy about that till I see what she's done with it? It was in a dreadfully baggy condition."