Glorianna went her way that morning; and the next to intrude upon Mrs. Kinzer’s special domain was her son-in-law himself, accompanied by his blooming bride.

“We’ve got a plan.”

“You?  Apian?  What about?”

“Dab and his friends.”

That was the beginning of a tolerably long consultation, and the results of it were duly reported to Dabney when he came home with his fish.

“A party?” he exclaimed, when his mother finished her brief but comprehensive statement:  “Ham and Miranda to give a party for us boys?  Well, now, if they’re not right down good!  But, mother, we’ll have to get it up mighty quick.”

“I know it, Dab; but that’s easy enough, with all the help we have.  I’ll take care of that.”

“A party! but, mother, what can we do?  There’s only a few of ’em know how to dance.  I don’t, for one.”

“You must talk it over with Ford.  Perhaps Annie and Frank can help you.”

They were all taken into counsel soon enough; and endless were the plans and propositions made, till even Mrs. Kinzer found her temper getting a little fretted and worried over them.

At all events, it was a settled fact that the “party” was to be; and the invitations went out in due and proper form.

“Miranda,” said her mother, on the morning of the important day, “we must manage to get rid of Dabney and those boys for a few hours.”

“Send ’em for some greens to rig the parlor with,” suggested Ham.  “Let ’em take the ponies.”

“Do you think the ponies are safe for them to drive, just now?”

“Oh!  Dab can handle ’em.  They’re a trifle skittish, that’s all.  They need a little exercise.”

So they did; but it was to be doubted if the best way to secure it for them was to send them out in a light, two-seated wagon, with a load of five lively boys.

“Now, don’t you let one of the other boys touch the reins,” said Mrs. Kinzer.

Dab’s promise to that effect proved a hard one to keep; for Fuz and Joe almost tried to take the reins away from him, before they had driven two miles from the house.  He was firm, however, and they managed to reach the strip of woodland, some five miles inland, where they were to gather their load, without any disaster; but it was evident to Dab, all the way, that his ponies were in uncommonly “high” condition.  He took them out of the wagon, while the rest began to gather their liberal harvest of evergreens; and he did not bring them near it again until all was ready for the start homeward.

“Now, boys,” he said, “you get in; Joe and Ford and Fuz on the back seat, to hold down the greens.  Frank, get up there, forward, while I hitch in the ponies.  These fellows are chuck full of mischief.”

Very full, certainly; nor did Dab Kinzer know exactly what the matter was for a minute or so after he seized the reins and sprang up beside Frank Harley.