"You funny dear! Yes, took them away from us. I am afraid I can't make you understand, Jane. It was our property--money and this house and some bank stock that we lost. My father went to the war and left all his business in the hands of his partner, a man named Ga.s.sett. Father fought in the war two years till he was badly wounded and had to come home.

Some day I'll show you a piece of a Confederate flag he helped capture.

He was never himself again and Mr. Ga.s.sett ran everything. Father said just before he died that he was thankful he at least had the home and some bank stock to leave us--but he didn't have even that it seems. We couldn't find any bank stock certificates and Mr. Ga.s.sett had a big mortgage on the house--so he got it, too. Mother said she was sure Father had paid off that mortgage two years after he went into partnership with Ga.s.sett--but, pshaw, you can't understand all this!"

"I can, too, I'm very quick. I heard Mother tell Mrs. Halford so and she said I had the strongest will she ever saw in a child!" Chicken Little was indignant.

Alice smiled but went on fluting the edge of an apple pie with a fork.

"Please tell me some more, Alice. Did your mother get awful hungry? Was that why you brought us some supper?"

"How do you know I brought you any supper?"

"'Cause. It was you--wasn't it, Alice?"

"Yes, Jane, and I expect your mother would be very angry with me if she knew. But I can't bear to have anybody go hungry since Mother--and I know how it feels myself--there's Katy whistling, you'd better run along."

Katy's smooth brown head appeared above the high board fence on her side of the alley that divided the Morton and Halford places. Chicken Little promptly mounted the top of their fence by the aid of a convenient wood pile.

Few days pa.s.sed in which the children did not visit across the alley.

They were not permitted to go outside their own yards without leave, but no embargo had been placed upon the fences. So they sweetened the days when permission to visit was denied by consoling each other across the alley. The result of this conference sent Chicken Little scurrying in to her mother.

Mrs. Morton sat by one of the long French windows with a small writing desk on her lap, busily writing a letter.

"Um--n--yes--what did you say?"

"May I have ten cents, Mother? We're going to start a millinery store and you can get a lot of the loveliest little roses and forget-me-nots down to Mrs. Smith's for ten cents. They fall off the wreaths you know.

Grace Dart has promised to buy a hat and Katy's Cousin Mary said maybe she would, and it's Sat.u.r.day and we can work all day--say, will you, Mother?"

"Dear, dear, what's all this? A millinery store? You and Katy and Gertie, I suppose. Well, I don't know but that would be a nice way to help teach you to sew. You must comb your hair again and put on a clean white ap.r.o.n before you go downtown--and don't go anywhere but Mrs.

Smith's. By the way, have you finished your practicing?"

Chicken Little wriggled painfully before she reluctantly shook her head.

"Well, do your hour first, then you may have the money."

"Oh, Mother, couldn't I practice after dinner--the girls are waiting for me?"

"Duty before pleasure, little daughter, go finish your hour and I'll hunt up some bits of tulle and ribbon for you myself."

"Oh, will you, Mother? Goody, goody! May I go tell the girls? I'll come straight back."

"Yes, but don't get so excited. Little ladies should learn to be more composed--and don't stand on one foot. Come here--the top b.u.t.ton of your dress is unfastened." Jane submitted to the b.u.t.toning process then flew off to tell the others, who were already setting up shop in the fence corner.

"Oh, Jane," they chorused the moment she came in sight, "Mother gave us the loveliest yellow satin and some pink flowers and lace, too!"

"Yes, and I found six chicken feathers that'll be grand for turbans,"

broke in Gertie.

Chicken Little flung herself breathless upon the gra.s.s and explained between gasps.

"If it wasn't for that horrid practicing!" she finished.

"Never mind," said Katy, "Gertie can be fixing the store and I'll start right in on a hat. It'll take a lot of work I tell you--we're going to charge ten cents a hat."

Chicken Little started reluctantly back to the house and still more reluctantly settled down on the old green-velvet piano stool to practice. There was not much music in her soul, and sitting still at anything was torture. She squirmed even when she read, and her brother Frank said she got into sixty-nine different positions by actual count during the sermon one Sunday. He had made her a standing offer of ten cents whenever she could sit perfectly still for five minutes, but so far his money was safe.

The moon-faced clock on the opposite wall ticked monotonously and Chicken Little's small fingers thumped stiffly at the five-finger exercises while she painfully counted aloud, partly to get the time and partly for company.

At the end of ten minutes she looked up at the clock in despair--surely it must have stopped! But no, the big pendulum was swinging faithfully to and fro. She tried scales, then she went back to exercises. She squirmed and wriggled and counted the big white medallions in the crimson body-brussels carpet. These medallions were her especial admiration, for each was bordered with elaborate curlicues, and contained a gorgeous basket of woolen flowers, the like of which never bloomed in any garden, temperate or tropical. There were fifteen of these across the room and twenty-five lengthwise.

The lace curtains were floral, too. She occupied five minutes trying for the hundredth time to decide, whether a delicate lace bloom with the circ.u.mference of a holly-hock was intended for a lily or a rose. The old steel engraving of General Washington's household hanging over the piano helped on a few moments more. The colored servant back of the general's chair had a fascination for her even greater than Martha Washington's mob cap and lace mitts. But, alas, even with the aid of these diversions she had only worried through twenty-five minutes.

Then she had an inspiration. "Grimm's Fairy Tales" lay on the sofa open face downward where she had left it half an hour before. She propped the book on the music rack and started in once more on the exercises. The exercises, however, refused to combine with reading--the discords were painful even to Jane's ears so she tried scales which worked like a charm. Mechanically her hands rippled up and down the keys while her fancy fluttered off after "Snow White" and "Rose Red." And the big clock was so neglected that it was five minutes past the hour before she thought to look at it again.

"Finished your hour, Daughter? Did you practice faithfully?"

Chicken Little considered a moment before replying.

"I didn't play the exercises much," she said doubtfully.

"Well, you did the scales very nicely."

Again Chicken Little paused.

Her conscience was p.r.i.c.king. On the chair beside her mother was a glowing pile of odd ribbons and old artificial flowers and her mother's kindness suddenly made the child realize that the Grimm hadn't been quite fair--she did not like the feeling of not playing fair. She twisted the handle of the door trying to muster up courage to confess, but Mrs. Morton was in a hurry to finish her letters.

"Run along now. Here are some things for you and here's the dime. I am busy, dear."

And Chicken Little feeling that the Fates had excused her, flew off joyfully to join the girls.

The fence corner was swept and garnished. An old lumber pile and several soap boxes had been pressed into service for shelves and counters and were artistically covered with an old lace curtain. Gertie was just putting a vase of real flowers on a table as a finishing touch, when Jane came up.

"Um-m, isn't that too sweet for anything, and see what I've got!"

"Look at this! It's most done," Katy held up an adorable creation of white tulle and pink rosebuds which her nimble fingers had almost completed.

She dispatched Gertie and Chicken Little to Mrs. Smith's for more flowers while she trimmed away industriously. It was a very happy Sat.u.r.day. The fame of it spread throughout the neighborhood and the three little girls were kept busy snipping and fussing with the tiny headgear. Katy had natural style and taste and some of the little hats were really charming.

The boys dropped over once or twice to see what was going on. Finally, they were so fired by this business enterprise that they started a lemonade stand just outside the front gate, having painfully secured a capital of five lemons by dint of much coaxing of mothers and maids.

Their venture could hardly be called a success. They sold one gla.s.s for five cents, then Carol, who was always awkward, upset the whole pitcherful. The ice melted out of the second, and no customers appearing, the boys were drinking it up themselves, when Sherman gallantly proposed to treat the little girls. The supply was getting low by this time, but they carried over one rather skimpy and distressingly seedy gla.s.s to be divided among the three.

The young ladies were too grateful for this unexpected attention to be critical. Besides their exchequer was filling up beautifully.

"How much did you make? We've got thirty cents already," said Katy.

"Gee, how'd you make such a lot?" Sherm looked impressed.

"Say, lend us a quarter, won't you?" urged Carol.