you ought to see Mrs. Myers smile when she passes the johnnycake.  We’re all trying to learn that heavenly smile.  Ford does it best.  I think Dick Lee is getting a little pale.  Perhaps corn doesn’t agree with him.  He’s learning fast, though, and so am I; but we have to work harder than Ford and Frank.  I guess the Hart boys know more than they did when they got here; and they didn’t learn it all out of their books, either.  We keep up our French and our boxing; but oh, wouldn’t I like to go for some blue-fish just now!  Has mother made any mince-pies yet?  I’ve almost forgotten how they taste.  I was going by a house, the other day, and I smelt some ham cooking.  I was real glad I hadn’t forgotten.  I knew what it was, right away.  Don’t you be afraid about my studying; for I’m at it all the while, except when we’re playing ball or eating corn.  They say they have sleighing here earlier than we do, and more of it, and plenty of skating.  Well, now, don’t say any thing to mother about the corn; but won’t I eat when I get home!  Yours all the while,
                              Dabney Kinzer.”

“Why, the poor fellow!” exclaimed Mrs. Kinzer.  “It’s enough to stop his growth.”

It was not many days after that, before Dabney received a couple of boxes by express.  The “marks” told where they came from; and he and the other boys carried them right up stairs, in the face of a kind suggestion from Mrs. Myers that “they might take them right out into the kitchen, and open them there.”

She had almost ceased from putting her wishes in any more dictatorial form; but she and Almira wondered exceedingly what might be the contents of those boxes.

Dab was only a minute or so in finding out what was in one of them.

“Boiled ham!  A whole one!  Out with it, Frank.  All that brown paper,—­why, it’s a pair of chickens, all ready to roast.”

“Something more’s down under those slats,” said Ford, in a tone of great excitement.

“Mince-pies!  And they’re not much mashed, either.  It’s wonderful how they did pack them.”

“Slats and shingles and paper,” said Ford.  “What can there be in that other box?”

“Shall we eat first, or open it?”

“Open it!  Open it!  Maybe they’ve sent you some corn.”

Opened it was, with a desperate display of energy.

“Ice!” said Frank Harley.

“Sawdust!” shouted Ford.

“Fish!” said Dabney.  “Clams, oysters, crabs, lobsters.”

Dick Lee had gazed in absolute silence up to that very moment; and all he could say now was,—­

“Ah-h-h!  O-h-h-h!  Jes’ ain’t dey fine!”

“Boys,” said Dab, with a sort of loving look at the contents of that box, “do you suppose we can eat those fellows?”

“Eat ’em!” exclaimed Ford.  “Why, after they’re cooked!”

“Well, I s’pose we can; but I feel more like shaking hands with ’em all around, just now.  They’re old friends and neighbors of mine, you know.”