Bracing strongly back, with the reins wound around his tough hands, and with a look in his face that should have given courage even to the Hart boys, Dab strained at his task as bravely as when he had stood at the tiller of "The Swallow" in the storm.

There was no such thing as stopping those ponies.

And now, as they whirled along, even Dabney's face paled a little.

"I must reach the bridge before he does: he's just stupid enough to keep right on."

It was very "stupid," indeed, for the driver of that one-horse "truck-wagon" to try and reach the little narrow unrailed bridge first.

It was an old, used-up sort of a bridge, at best.

Dab loosened the reins a little, but could not use his whip.

"Why can't he stop!"

It was a moment of breathless anxiety, but the wagoner kept stolidly on.

There would be barely room to pa.s.s him on the road itself; none at all on the narrow bridge.

The ponies did it.

They seemed to put on an extra touch of speed on their own account, just then.

There was a rattle, a faint crash; and then, as the wheels of the two vehicles almost touched each other in pa.s.sing, Ford shouted,--

"The bridge is down!"

Such a narrow escape!

One of the rotten girders, never half strong enough, had given way under the sudden shock of the hinder wheels; and that truck-wagon would have to find its road across the brook as best it could.

There were more wagons to pa.s.s, as they plunged forward, and rough places in the road for Dabney to look out for; but even Joe and Fuz were now getting confidence in their driver. Before long, too, the ponies themselves began to feel that they had had enough of it. Then it was that Dab used his whip again, and the streets of the village were traversed at a rate to call for the disapprobation of all sober-minded people.

"Here we are, Ham! Greens and all."

"Did they run far, Dab?" asked Ham quietly.

CHAPTER XXIV.

DABNEY'S GREAT PARTY.

The boys returned a good deal earlier than anybody had expected, but they made no more trouble. As Ford Foster remarked, "they were all willing to go slow for a week," after being carried home at such a rate by Dab's ponies.

There was a great deal to be said, too, about the runaway, and Mrs.

Foster longed to see Dabney, and thank him on Ford's account; but he himself had no idea that he had done any thing remarkable, and was very busy decking Miranda's parlors with the evergreens.

A nice appearance they made, too, all those woven branches and cl.u.s.tered sprays, when they were in place; and Samantha declared for them that,--

"They had kept Dab out of mischief all the afternoon."

At an early hour, after supper, the guests began to arrive; for Mrs.

Kinzer was a woman of too much good sense to have night turned into day when she could prevent it. As the stream of visitors steadily poured in, Dab remarked to Jenny Walters,--

"We shall have to enlarge the house, after all."

"If it were only a dress, now!"

"What then?"

"Why, you could just let out the tucks. I've had to do that with mine."

"Jenny, shake hands with me."

"What for, Dabney?"

"I'm so glad to meet somebody else that's outgrowing something."

There was a tinge of color rising in Jenny's face; but, before she could think of any thing to say, Dab added,--

"There, Jenny: there's Mrs. Foster and Annie. Isn't she sweet?"

"One of the nicest old ladies I ever saw."

"Oh! I didn't mean her mother."

"Never mind. You must introduce me to them."

"So I will. Take my arm."

Jenny Walters had been unusually kindly and gracious in her manner that evening, and her very voice had less than its accustomed sharpness; but her natural disposition broke out a little, some minutes later, while she was talking with Annie Foster. Said she,--

"I've wanted so much to get acquainted with you."

"With me?"

"Yes: I've seen you in church, and I've heard you talked about, and I wanted to find out for myself."

"Find out what?" asked Annie a little soberly.

"Why, you see, I don't believe it's possible for any girl to be as sweet as you look. I couldn't, I know. I've been trying these two days, and I'm nearly worn out."

Annie's eyes opened wide with surprise; and she laughed merrily, as she answered,--

"What can you mean! I'm glad enough if my face doesn't tell tales of me."

"But mine does," said Jenny. "And then I'm so sure to tell all the rest with my tongue. I do wish I knew what were your faults."