and painters and glaziers were still
at work, and the piles of Kinzer furniture had to be stowed around as
best could be. Some of them had even to be locked up overnight in one of
the barns.

The Kinzers, for generations, had been a trifle weak about furniture,
and that was one of the reasons why there was so little room for human
beings in their house. The little parlor, indeed, had been filled till
it put one in mind of a small "furniture store" with not room enough to
show the stock on hand, and some of the other parts of the house
required knowledge and care to walk about in them.

Bad for a small house, truly, but not so much so when the same articles
were given a fair chance to spread themselves.

It was a treat to Dab to watch while the new carpets were put down, one
after another, and then to see how much at home and comfortable the
furniture looked as it was moved into its new quarters.

Mrs. Kinzer took care that the house she left should speak well of her
to the eyes of Mrs. Foster, when that lady came to superintend the
arrival of her own household goods.

The character of these, by the way, at once convinced the village
gossips that "lawyer Foster must be a good deal forehanded in money
matters." And so he was, even more than his furniture indicated. Ford
had a wonderful deal to do with the settlement of his family in their
new home, and it was not until nearly the close of the week that he
found time for more than an occasional glance over the north fence.

"Take the two farms together," his father had said to him, "and they
make a really fine estate. I learn, too, that the Kinzers have other
property. Your young acquaintance is likely to have a very good start in
the world."

Ford had found out nearly as much on his own account, but he had long
since learned the uselessness of trying to teach his father anything,
however well he might succeed with ordinary people, and so he had said
nothing.

"Dabney," said Mrs. Kinzer, that Friday evening, "you've been a great
help all the week. Suppose you take the ponies to-morrow morning, and
ask young Foster out for a drive."

"Mother," exclaimed Samantha, "I shall want the ponies myself. I've some
calls to make, and some shopping. Dabney will have to drive."

"No, Sam," remarked Dabney; "if you go out with the ponies to-morrow,
you'll have my old clothes to drive you."

"What do you mean?" asked Samantha.

"I mean, with Dick Lee in them."

"That wo