Chapter 9

CHICKEN LITTLE JANE'S GIFT

"Well, Alice," said Dr. Morton, coming in one noon stamping and shaking the snow off his broad shoulders. "I have discovered why you haven't heard from Gassett again. He is down with typhoid fever--looks like a bad case. He won't be in a condition to start lawsuits for some weeks, so you may set your mind at rest for the present."

The Christmas holidays had gone by all too quickly for the Morton family. The children were already grumbling about starting back to school. Dr. Morton had a number of very sick patients on his hands and looked worried in consequence. Mrs. Morton was helping Alice with her simple wardrobe, and Alice was helping Mrs. Morton break in a new maid.

It was really a great comfort to Mrs. Morton to feel that Alice could now be received as an equal. She had grown fond of her unconsciously, but according to her rigid ideas, friendship with a servant was impossible. "I have always felt," she told her friends, "that Alice was too refined for her situation. Blood will tell, you know."

Chicken Little and Ernest mourned Alice's departure loudly. Ernest turned up his nose promptly at the new girl--a willing soul with scant intelligence.

"Have we got to have that thing round, Mother?" he demanded in deep disgust. He had just deluged his hot cakes with cream which Olga had put in the syrup jug by mistake.

"I'm afraid so, my son, until we can find someone better. Girls are hard to get in this town. Alice has certainly spoiled us."

"What did you let her go for?" Ernest grumbled as if keeping her with them were optional.

"Why, Ernest, I thought you were pleased with Alice's good fortune."

"Well, that's not saying I want her to go off and never see her again."

"Oh, you'll see me again, Ernest," said Alice, coming into the room just then and divining the boy's mood.

"I am coming back to Centerville as soon as I finish school. It seems so hard to leave you all. You've been so good to me----"

Alice broke down and turned hurriedly away to hide her tears.

Chicken Little jumped up and threw her arms around Alice's waist, laying her face against her hands lovingly.

Alice hugged the child tight.

"I am going to miss you so, dear. There won't be any little girl to cuddle at Uncle Joseph's."

Jane followed Alice into her room after breakfast to help pack the shiny new trunk. This was Alice's last day.

"My, isn't it grand! It's got a place for hats and your parasol--and what are these little places for, Alice?" Chicken Little was eagerly investigating.

"Oh, handkerchiefs and ties and gloves. I'm a lucky girl to have all these nice things. Just think--three new dresses! Blue and brown cashmeres for school and a green silk poplin for Sunday best--aren't these little bows down the front cunning?"

Alice surveyed her treasures with a sigh of satisfaction.

"If they'll only like me a little at Uncle Joseph's. I wish I could take you along, Chicken Little Jane, I wouldn't be lonely if I had you."

"Will you be dreadfully lonely, Alice?" Chicken Little was getting concerned.

"I am afraid I will, Chicken Little."

The child pondered the matter for the rest of the morning.

At dinner, she interrupted her father in the midst of a story to ask:

"Can people take dogs or birds on a train?"

"Yes, Chicken, what did you want to know for? The dogs are usually put in the baggage car."

"If it was just a puppy would it have to go in the baggage car?"

"Why if it was very tiny it might be carried in a covered box or basket."

Jane subsided for several minutes then interrupted again.

"Could you put a kitty in a basket?"

"I guess so, but don't interrupt me so much, child." Dr. Morton replied carelessly.

"Yes, Jane, that is a very bad habit you are forming. It is not polite to break into a conversation that way--especially when older people are talking," Mrs. Morton added impressively.

After dinner Chicken Little began to rummage. First she found a collar box with a cover. She took this to her mother and asked if she might have it. Her mother readily gave it to her, but apparently the child was not satisfied. She looked it over dubiously. "I don't believe it could breathe," she said to herself.

The collar box was discarded and she began another search. She finally resurrected a small covered sewing basket considerably the worse for wear, which her mother was also willing to part with.

Her next move was to line the basket with cotton batting after which she hunted out a doll blanket from her playthings.

"I guess that'll be enough," she remarked aloud.

These preparations completed, she tucked the basket under her arm and slipping out the side gates, went over to Grace Dart's. She had not taken the trouble to ask permission.

About ten minutes later she returned carrying the basket most carefully. Very little was seen of her till train time. When she started down to the station with her mother and Alice she still had the basket with her. Mrs. Morton did not notice it until Chicken Little put it down beside her on the seat of the omnibus.

"What are you bringing that old basket for?" she asked.

"Oh, just 'cause."

"Well, of all the queer children!" Mrs. Morton sighed. Chicken Little's whims were very puzzling at times.

Alice suspected that the basket contained some parting gift for herself. Ernest had hung around her at the last and had finally thrust a big bag of candy into her hand--an offering that deeply touched her since she knew he must have spent his last penny to buy it.

They found Dick Harding at the station. Chicken Little heaved a sigh of relief when she caught sight of him. She had an idea.

When the train rolled in and he picked up Alice's valise to carry it into the car for her, Chicken Little pulled at his arm. As he leaned down, she whispered hastily; "Give her this on the train and--please, carry it carefully."

Dick Harding took the basket. Mrs. Morton was bidding Alice good-by and did not notice the transfer.

Mr. Harding seated Alice and delivered the sewing basket.

"Here is something very special Miss Jane Morton wished me to give you. I have an idea its contents may surprise you, judging from certain sounds I heard."

Alice took it on her lap and lifted the cover.

A sheet of bright pink note paper lay on top. It read, "With love for Alice so you won't be lonesome."

Beneath the note paper a tiny gray head peeped out from under a doll blanket and a plaintive "miauw" greeted her.

"Well, I never!" laughed Alice. "What can I do with it?"

"Keep the basket and I'll put kitty in my pocket and dispose of her some way."

"No, indeed, I'll manage somehow--bless the child. This must be the kitty Grace Dart promised her. If they'll only let me keep it at Uncle Joseph's I believe it will be a real comfort."

Dick Harding lifted Jane up for a parting wave to Alice through the car window as the train pulled out. Alice held up a pert maltese kitten and made it wave its paw in return.

"Why--where did she get that kitten?" gasped Mrs. Morton, a sudden suspicion entering her mind. "Chicken Little Jane was that what you had in that basket?"

Chicken Little looked abashed, but Dick Harding came to the rescue.

"Mrs. Morton, may Jane walk up with me--I'll take good care of her?"

After a moment's hesitation Mrs. Morton consented. Dick handed her into the omnibus and Chicken Little trotted joyfully along beside him. Dick Harding seemed to enjoy having the warm little hand tucked confidingly into his own.

It was an ideal winter day, clear and crisp and gorgeously white.

They walked along in silence for a few minutes before Jane burst out with the idea that was occupying her small brain.

"Why does it make people nicer to go to school a lot? I don't think Alice could be any nicer, do you, Mr. Harding? Our teacher's gone to school, oh, most always, I guess, and I don't think she's near as nice as Alice."

Dick Harding laughed heartily.

"Miss Alice is A1, isn't she? And we don't like to have her go away so far--do we? Education doesn't always make people nicer, but it often helps, Chicken Little. You like your father's ways rather better than old Jake's don't you? Well, your father has education and Jake hasn't. That's not all the difference but it is part. Besides, even if it didn't make us nicer to know things, it is rather good fun to learn them, don't you think?"

He patted the hand in his and smiled down at her. Chicken Little partly understanding yet puzzled, smiled back.

They walked on a half block farther before Jane found anything more to say.

"I guess Alice won't be lonesome now she's got the kitty. Don't you think it was a pretty kitty? I wanted it awfully bad myself but I've got Ernest and Katy and Gertie to play with and Alice won't have anybody you know."

Dick Harding stifled a laugh as he recalled Alice's surprised face.

"I think that was an uncommonly pretty kitty and you were very generous to give it away when you wanted it yourself. It is mighty hard to part with things we want ourselves, don't you think so, little partner?"

Dick looked off where the smoke of the departing train could still be plainly seen in the distance.

Chicken Little followed his gaze but not his thoughts.

"Do you s'pose I'll ever go 'way off to school, Mr. Harding?"

"I think it likely some day. When you do, I'll promise to see you off and bring you a big box of candy, if I'm round when you start. Say, how would it do to stop in at Jackson's and get the candy today? I might not be there when the time comes, you know."

They stopped and made the important purchase after much deliberation as to kinds.

"I like gum drops and chocolate creams best," Jane volunteered naively.

"Mr. Harding is too generous," her mother remarked with a wry smile when Jane proudly displayed her trophy. She had never had a whole boxful of candy before. Usually a dime's worth had been the maternal limit.

Chicken Little treated Katy and Gertie and Ernest and Carol and Sherm and the new maid, with lavish generosity. She also ate all her mother would let her, herself. Finally, Mrs. Morton ordered her to put the rest away for the next day. It would have been well for Chicken Little if her mother's direction had extended to the next day as well. But by morning Mrs. Morton had forgotten all about the candy. Chicken Little had strict orders not to eat sweets before breakfast so she heroically withstood temptation until her last bite of waffle was swallowed, then munched away till school time. The box with its remaining contents accompanied her to school to her later undoing.

She had never known such popularity as was hers when the other children found what the big box contained. One boy made her a present of a brand new slate pencil on the spot. She was allowed to choose up for her side in "No bears out tonight," though this honor usually fell to one of the bigger girls. By the time the bell rang she felt blissfully important. She settled regretfully down to her work with the candy snugly tucked away inside her desk.

All went well until about the middle of the geography recitation, when turning around from her work at the board, she caught the small boy, who sat across the aisle, in the act of helping himself to a handful of her cherished sweets. She was surprised into forgetting where she was and exclaimed out loud:

"Oh, you mustn't!"

The teacher looked up in pained amazement.

"Who was that spoke out loud?" she demanded.

Chicken Little raised a reluctant hand.

"Jane Morton, I'm surprised--I wouldn't have believed it of you! You may stand on the floor by my desk for half an hour."

The teacher had been much annoyed by whispering that morning, the children being all more or less riotous after their vacation, so without stopping to investigate, as was her usual custom, she promptly visited the sins of the whole school upon Jane.

Jane had never stood upon the floor for punishment before and she felt the disgrace keenly. It hurt the child's sense of fairness, too, but she dared not try to explain lest Miss Brown should confiscate the remainder of her precious candy. She took her book and walked slowly over to the spot indicated in front of the whole school, her face growing redder and redder. It was several minutes before she dared lift her eyes and face her mates.

When she did, several of her friends telephoned furtive messages of sympathy that cheered her a little. But her humiliation over her disgrace was soon swallowed up in wrath when the offending small boy, who had caused all her troubles, added insult to injury by ostentatiously eating his booty whenever the teacher's back was turned. He would roll his eyes and smack his lips in the utmost enjoyment.

Chicken Little forgot her disgrace in a desire for revenge. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared. She set herself resolutely to study, avoiding even a glance in his direction. But she did more than study; she laid her plans for swift vengeance. When permitted to go back to her seat, she still ignored him though he did his best to attract her attention.

His place in the line was just ahead of hers, and she followed him down the halls and the long stairs calculating to a nicety just how she would get even. The moment they passed through the outside door, the boy turned for a parting taunt. He did not get it out. Before he could utter a single sound Chicken Little struck him a resounding slap in the face with all her young might.

The youngster would have hit back, but another boy grabbed him and ordered him roughly to let little girls alone. And Chicken Little went home ashamed but solaced.

She was nervous for a while lest her mother should hear of her scrape. However, several days went by and she was beginning to breathe easier, when Brother Frank overtook her one morning on her way to school.

"Hello, Sis, what is this I hear about having a prize-fighter in the family?"

Jane's face grew hot, but she looked at him mutely.

"I thought it was only rough boys who smashed in people's noses and made them bleed. I didn't suppose my gentle little sister would do such a thing."

Chicken Little swallowed hard but still kept silent and Frank pressed harder.

"I have always believed my little sister was a lady. I am afraid Mother will be grieved to hear what her daughter has been doing."

Words came to Chicken Little at last in a burst of sobs:

"I don't care--he took my candy--I had to stand--on--on the floor--and it wasn't fair--you can just go and tell Mother if you want to!"

Frank took her hand and patted it.

"Out with the whole story, Sis. I suspected there was something more to it than I heard--you aren't usually warlike."

So Chicken Little sobbed out the woeful tale. Brother Frank smiled broadly above the bent head over the ludicrous incident, but he controlled himself sufficiently to admonish soberly.

"Well, Johnny seems to have deserved all he got. At the same time, Jane, I don't think I'd do such a thing again, if I were you."