Dab Kinzer: A Story of a Growing Boy

by William O. Stoddard

"My young friends?" said Mr. Fallow inquiringly.

"Fish, sir," said Dab. "Some we caught to-day over in Green Pond. We thought we'd bring you a mess of 'em."

He thought, too, without saying it,—

"Now I've made a mess of it. Why didn't I let Ford do it?"

"Thank you. Thank you, my young friends. Very kind and thoughtful. Won't you walk in?"

"No, sir, thank you. It's most supper-time. We must hurry back."

"Mary! Come and see these fish. Some very fine ones. Going? Indeed? Saw you in church last Sunday. Hope I'll see you there again to morrow. Good-afternoon, my dear young friends."

"Good-afternoon, sir."

They walked away a little rapidly, but with a vivid and decidedly pleasant impression that they had given the pale-faced, earnest-eyed minister an extraordinary amount of comfort.

"The fish ain't worth much," said Ford. "It couldn't have been just them!"