"Well, so was I just coming over to see you. I've been too busy all the week, but they've let up on me at last."
"I've got our family nearly settled," replied Ford; "and I thought I'd ask if you wouldn't like to go out on the bay with me to-morrow. Teach you to catch crabs."
Dabney drew a long, astonished sort of whistle; but he finished it with,—
"That's about what I was thinking of. There's plenty of crabs, and I've got a tip-top boat. We won't want a heavy one for just us two."
"All right, then. We'll begin on crabs, but some other day we'll go for bigger fish. What are you going to do next week?"
"Got it all to myself," said Dab. "We can have all sorts of a good time.
We can have the ponies, too, when we want them."
"That's about as good as it knows how to be," responded the young gentleman from the city. "I'd like to explore the country. You're going to have a nice place of it, over there, before you get through. Only, if I'd had the planning of that house, I'd have set it back farther. Too much room all round it. Not enough trees either."
Dab came stoutly to the defence of not only that house, but of Long-Island architecture generally, and was fairly overwhelmed, for the first time in his life, by a flood of big words from a boy of his own age.
He could have eaten up Ford Foster, if properly cooked. He felt sure of that. But he was no match for him on the building question. On his way back to his new home, however, after the discussion had lasted long enough, he found himself inquiring,—
"That's all very nice, but what can he teach me about crabs? We'll see about that to-morrow."