"That was a mighty smart-Alecky speech," said his father. "Carol should learn to be more respectful to his elders."

"I don't see what this younger generation is coming to," said Mrs.

Morton plaintively. "I can't see where children learn such bad manners."

"Probably corrupted by their elder brothers, Mother dear," retorted Frank. "But, changing the subject, I am curious to see what Ga.s.sett will do."

"Yes, I am curious about his first move myself. Perhaps, he'll come up here and demand the papers of Mother or maybe he'll send a lawyer."

"Well, for my part I think the sensible thing to do would be to send him the papers and stop all this fuss," Mrs. Morton replied.

"Why, Mother!" Ernest started up indignantly.

"You forget, Mother, that those papers happen to be worth five thousand dollars," said Frank, lifting his eyebrows.

Jane looked from the boys to her mother in horrified amazement.

"They are Alice's papers, Mother, so there!"

"We don't know whether they are Alice's or not, my dear, and little girls should be seen and not heard."

"But they've got Alice's father's name on them!" Jane's mental crater was seething and no snubbing could keep it from boiling over. "I just guess you wouldn't like it if somebody took something that belonged to your little girl."

"She's got you there, Mother," said Dr. Morton, laughing. "Come on, Frank, we must be getting downtown."

If Mrs. Morton was still English in her ideas, Chicken Little was intensely American, and while Mrs. Morton was a most loving and conscientious mother, she could never understand her rebellious small daughter. Many unpleasant scenes occurred in her effort to bring up the child in the ways of her forefathers.

Chicken Little was an athletic child before the days when it was proper for little girls to be athletic, and Mrs. Morton mourned greatly over her tomboy propensities. She did her best to overcome these by crowding the child's playtime full of all the little womanly arts possible. But her efforts, if praiseworthy, were hardly successful, especially her attempts to teach her to sew.

These lessons usually began Sat.u.r.day morning.

"Chicken Little, when you finish your practicing, I want you to come to my room and do a square of your patchwork. You know I let you off last Sat.u.r.day to go nutting."

"Oh, Mother, please, the boys are making a little furnace out in the back yard and they said we girls might help them roast apples and potatoes--and Alice is going to let us have some doughnuts. And please, Mother, don't make me do that nasty old patchwork."

"But, child, you must learn to sew. I should think you would enjoy that pretty patchwork--I got those bright silk sc.r.a.ps on purpose to please you. Why my mother made a shirt for her father when she was no older than you, and you can't take five st.i.tches neatly. Besides, I don't think it is good for little girls to play with the boys so much. It teaches them to be rough--girls should be little ladies."

Mrs. Morton pursed her lips in the prim little expression that was Jane's despair.

The child's eyes flashed rebelliously.

"I don't want to be a little lady!" she said sullenly. "Mrs. Halford likes to have Katy and Gertie play with the boys 'cause they haven't got any brothers and she thinks it's good for them--so there!"

"Why Jane!"

"I don't care--I don't see why boys should have all the fun! You let Ernest do most everything he wants to--and you won't let me do hardly anything--and I don't think it's a bit fair--and I just hate this old patchwork!" Chicken Little flung herself down on the floor in a tempest of wrath.

Mrs. Morton's usually placid face became severe.

"Get up this minute and come here!"

Chicken Little reluctantly obeyed.

"Child, do you want to be a perfect little know-nothing? I am grieved and pained that my only little daughter has such ideas. I can't see where you get them. Katy and Gertie both sew very nicely for their ages and----"

"Yes," interrupted the child between sobs, "but their mother lets them learn on rainy days and in the summer when it's too hot to play out doors. She doesn't keep them in all morning on Sat.u.r.day!"

"You have all afternoon to play."

"But we can't roast apples--the boys are going to the ball game--and they're building the furnace right now and I want to see them. Katy and Gertie are up on the alley fence calling me. Oh! Mother, can't I go?

Please, please, Mother!"

Mrs. Morton looked perplexed for a moment, then straightened herself resolutely.

"No, daughter, you have been a very rebellious little girl. I can't encourage such conduct. But if you will practice your hour faithfully, I'll let you put off the sewing till two o'clock this afternoon--on condition that you promise to sit down without making any fuss and finish that square today. Bring it here and let me see if you are doing it right."

Jane fidgeted and looked at her mother uneasily.

"I don't know 'zackly where it is," she objected.

"Go hunt it."

Chicken Little went slowly, evidently oppressed by thought.

She returned in about three minutes with three much mussed pieces of silk sewn together, from which dangled a needle by a remarkably long and dirty silk thread.

Her mother examined it with disfavor.

"Where are your other pieces?" she inquired sternly.

Chicken Little answered in a most ladylike small voice.

"I--I used them."

"Used them?--what for?"

"For--silk ravellings."

"Silk ravellings?--what on earth do you mean?"

"We keep them in our Geographies and Grace Dart had the most colors--and you wouldn't give me any old ribbons--so I used them."

"Jane Morton, what are you talking about?"

"Jane Morton" looked out the window and squirmed uneasily. "I just told you," she said pettishly.

"Bring your Geography here!"