Chicken Little obeyed and Mrs. Morton hastily opened it. About every third page revealed cloud-like fluffs of silk ravellings in all the colors of the rainbow. The entire Geography was so occupied as an alb.u.m for these delectable bits of color that it was difficult to see how it could be used for study purposes.

"Well, I never!" Mrs. Morton regarded all e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns as unladylike, but the occasion seemed to require emphasis.

"Where did you get all these?--and what do you want them for?"

"'Cause all the girls have them. I took some of the pieces left from the millinery store----"

"Yes?"

"And I cut some weenty bits of my hair ribbons and I traded for some of the mixy ones--and the quilt pieces."

Chicken Little shut her lips tight with an air of finality.

"Go get your hair-ribbons."

Chicken Little obeyed slowly.

The ribbons were shortened anywhere from one inch to a quarter of a yard. Some looked as if she had taken the ribbon and left the "weenty"

piece.

Mrs. Morton's face was a study. For a moment she seemed to be struck speechless. It was only a moment.

"Your ribbons are ruined--I never saw such a child! You knew better than that and you shall be punished severely. Go right to your practising now and I'll think this matter over. But--you cannot help the boys with the furnace."

"But you promised, Mother."

"I don't care if I did; you've been a very naughty little girl and----"

"But you promised and you'll be telling a wrong story your ownself if you don't let me. And you never told me I couldn't cut pieces off my hair-ribbons--and I asked you for some old ones and you said: 'Run along and don't bother'." Chicken Little faced her mother flushed and defiant.

Mrs. Morton's face was equally red with exasperation. The child's logic was not easy to gainsay.

"Very well," she said with asperity, "you may go after your practicing, as I said, but you will be punished later. You understand--later!"

CHAPTER V

THE BACK-YARD FURNACE

It was in a more chastened frame of mind, that Chicken Little joined the others in the back yard after her practice hour was over. She had spent so much of the hour wondering what her mother was going to do to her, that the hour had really slipped away rather quickly.

The three boys had the brick part of the furnace all done when she appeared. They were carefully fitting into place the rusty piece of stove-pipe which was the crowning glory of the structure. Katy and Gertie were seated on an old barrel turned over on its side, watching the process. They made room for Chicken Little between them.

Ernest got to his feet after the stove-pipe was snugly set with a grunt of satisfaction.

"Frank said we'd better wait for half an hour before we started a fire to let the mortar dry. The sun's pretty hot. Maybe it won't take quite so long today."

"Let's play tag while we wait," suggested Katy.

"Bet I can roll you girls off that barrel," said Sherm with mischief in his eye.

"Bet you can't."

"I'll help you, Sherm."

"No you don't, Ernest--Sherm said he could--he's got to do it alone."

Chicken Little perked up at the prospect of a tussle. "I'll sit the other way, Katy. You and Gertie brace your feet against the ground--just as hard. Move the barrel a little and I can put mine against the chopping logs; there that's fine."

Sherm was about fifteen feet away and he made a dash to stop these preparations. But the little girls were planted firmly before he could interfere.

He was a stout lad but he found the rolling process more difficult than he had imagined. The other boys hovered around eager to take a hand and offering unasked suggestions.

"Lift up one end--that'll heave them off."

"You said roll, Sherm Dart!" squealed Katy as she felt the barrel gently rising under her.

"That's right, Sherm, you did," put in Ernest who was usually fair.

Sherm disgustedly lowered the barrel, rubbing his hands together preparatory to another shove.

The little girls gloated.

"H-m-m--wasn't so easy as you thought it would be--was it?" jeered Chicken Little.

"You can't do it, Smarty," Katy shied a chip at him.

Gertie kicked her heels against the barrel in glee and said nothing.

"Before I'd let the girls get ahead of me!" Carol and Ernest joined in the chorus of derision.

"Sherm Dart beaten by the girls!"

Sherm gritted his teeth and settled down to business. He pulled--he pushed--he jerked, but the little maids succeeded in maintaining some sort of balance. He couldn't get the barrel over. Finally he had a happy thought. He also braced both feet against the chopping log and giving a sudden shove with all his strength sent the barrel over and the little girls sprawling in all directions at the same time.

There was a chorus of protests from Chicken Little and Katy, but Ernest and Carol acting as umpires declared that Sherm had kept his contract.

Furthermore, the boys were eager to light the furnace, dry or not.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Wiping his eyes ... as the puffs came thicker.]

To Chicken Little was granted the proud privilege of touching the match to the heaped-up fuel. It took five matches to do the work and when the paper and kindling finally caught, the smoke showed a disposition to pour out the door into their faces instead of puffing decorously up the chimney.

"I don't see what ails the old thing," said Sherman, wiping his eyes and backing off as the puffs came thicker.

"Bet there's a crack some place near the top that spoils the draught."