The remainder of the doggerel was largely drowned in the scuffle that ensued, but Katy managed to get "Johnny Carter" out in a shrill treble that carried far, in spite of the hands clapped over her mouth.

The boys heard it, grinned, and pa.s.sed on. Chicken Little was furious.

"I'll never forgive you, Katy Halford, as long as I live, so there!" And she turned her back on the offending Katy, stalked straight out of the yard and banged the gate after her emphatically.

The feud lasted a week. Chicken Little pa.s.sed Katy by as if she did not exist, and Katy lost no opportunity to hector her. She chanted Johnny's name every time Jane came in sight till the child loathed the sound. To add to her woes, Grace Dart began to demand some visible proof that Johnny was her beau.

"He hasn't ever given you anything, has he?" she quizzed. "He gave Sallie a big red apple yesterday at recess--I saw him."

Chicken Little grew desperate. She didn't care very much to have Johnny or anybody else as a beau. She wished there were no such things as beaux on the face of the earth, but her pride was stung to the quick. She began to imagine that Johnny grinned when he saw her. Suppose he had heard. She wanted to run every time she saw him coming, but she felt that she must do something to make friends with him.

Finally she thought out a way. She saw some of the older girls buying candy hearts at the grocery store one Sat.u.r.day when she went downtown on an errand for her mother. That would be just the thing she thought. If she could find one with a nice motto it surely wouldn't be very hard to turn around and lay it on Johnny's desk.

The more she thought about it, the more feasible the plan seemed. Sunday afternoon she went upstairs and shook a nickel out of her bank which she invested in candy hearts the next morning, going downtown on her way to school--a thing strictly forbidden in the Morton household.

She didn't have a chance to look at them till she got home at noon, and then, alas, none of the mottoes seemed suitable. She couldn't make up her mind to give him "You're my girl," or "I love you," or "Sweetheart mine," which appeared oftenest in flaming red letters on their tombstone surfaces.

She decided to try again. That night she took another nickel out of her bank and bought more hearts the following morning. This time she found two she thought might do. She wavered quite a while between "Be my friend," and "I like you," at length deciding on the latter.

She wrapped it up carefully in a bit of white paper, then waiting her opportunity took the rest of the bag of hearts and dumped them in the grate. She was sick of them. Her mother coming in soon after wondered what made such an odor of burned sugar.

But the act of putting the fateful heart on Johnny's desk wasn't as simple as she had fancied beforehand. If Miss Brown wasn't looking, Grace Dart was. It seemed to her that Grace didn't study a single bit that whole afternoon. Twice when the coast was clear, she actually turned around with the heart in her hand, but some way her courage failed her. One look into Johnny's impish eyes paralyzed her hand.

Finally she decided to put it on his desk when he went to the board. She would wait till he was almost back to his seat so n.o.body could get it, and, then lay it down real quick.

The deed was done and Chicken Little turned back to bury her burning face in her Geography and await results. She listened to the rustling of paper as Johnny unwrapped the heart. There was a long silence. She wondered if he would eat it. But Johnny evidently didn't eat it. She couldn't detect the tiniest crunch. She began to grow more and more uncomfortable. Suppose he should show it to some of the other children--or to teacher.

But Johnny wasn't thinking of doing anything of the kind. He was furtively contemplating the tip of a very red ear and a strip of cheek, which were about all he could see of Chicken Little's face. Johnny had secretly admired Chicken Little ever since she had got even with him so artistically. He was considerably overcome by this unlooked-for mark of her favor. But he couldn't think off-hand of any suitable way of returning the courtesy.

He went through his pockets thoughtfully. Their contents were not inspiring--five marbles, a piece of string, two broken slate pencils and a red bandanna handkerchief slightly soiled. He cherished this handkerchief specially because he had seen so many teamsters and jockeys--his special admiration--carrying them. Further, he was the only boy in school who had one.

He smoothed the handkerchief out carefully and looked at it. Finally he folded it up into the smallest wad possible, tied it with the bit of string, and reached under the desk touched Jane's arm. He pressed it into her hand furtively when she looked around.

"'Tain't much," he said apologetically, "but maybe it'll do for your doll."

Chicken Little walked on air going home from school that night. She called Grace Dart clear across the street to come over and see. Grace came and saw and bowed down. There was no need to ask who had given Chicken Little the trophy. Only Johnny Carter possessed such a one--and the handkerchief was undeniably big and masculine. But Jane's troubles were not over yet. Grace had a good memory.

"I don't care if he did give it to you. I saw him chewing gum this morning coming to school."

Chicken Little felt that having a beau was harder work than she had bargained for. She privately resolved never never to have one again, even if she never grew up to be like Rosamond Clifford. But she hated to back down on any part of her program before Grace. She didn't like Grace very well anyway.

But Johnny himself made things easier for her this time. He caught up with her going home from school the next day and carelessly extended a brand new paper of gum in pa.s.sing.

"Oh, Johnny," she said, "I'd love it but Mother don't let me--and--Johnny----"

Johnny looked expectant.

"I wish you wouldn't chew it either."

Johnny was surprised. He didn't reply for a moment then demanded:

"Why, gum's all right."

"No, it isn't--my Mother says it's a very bad habit."

Johnny pondered. He wasn't walking along with Jane, he was about two steps ahead.

"Well, I don't mind quittin'--it's kind of girls' stuff anyway."

CHAPTER XIV

MAY BASKETS

It was a late spring and both the wild blossoms and the early garden flowers were discouragingly scarce.

"I don't believe there is even a spring beauty or a dog-tooth violet out yet," Mrs. Halford replied doubtfully when the little girls broached the subject of May baskets.

"I don't mind your making them or hanging them--I think it is a charming custom--but I really don't see where you can get the flowers."

"Mother's got some geraniums in bloom. I think she'd let us have them,"

suggested Chicken Little.

"And maybe there'll be some plum blossoms out--it's three whole days till May Day and you can see the white on the buds." Gertie was always hopeful.

"Well, get your baskets ready and we'll do the best we can to find the flowers. We can take some green from the house plants to help fill up--my oxalis is blooming nicely--that will be pretty to mix in."

"I'm glad it comes Sat.u.r.day. I wish we could go to the Duck Creek woods to hunt for wild flowers--I just know I could find some." Katy looked out the window longingly.

"Wait and see. Perhaps you can," Mrs. Halford answered. "But you'd better be getting your materials and start your baskets. What colors do you want?"

"I'm going to have mine all red and white--they're so nice and bright,"

Katy spoke up promptly.

Gertie decided on green and white and Chicken Little selected pink and blue.

They bought their materials that evening after school and started the dainty weaving at Katy's house. It was pretty, bright work and a good deal of a novelty to the children for a kindergarten had only recently been established in the town.

Katy did all the cutting of the strips of shiny paper. She had a truer eye and nimbler fingers than either of the others. But they were expert at weaving the gay-colored strips in and out, and the three finished six baskets the first evening. Mrs. Halford gave them each a box so they could keep their materials and completed baskets in good order.

"How many are you going to hang, Katy?"

"Six, but you needn't ask where for I sha'n't tell."

"I didn't hear anyone ask you, Katy," retorted Mrs. Halford slyly.

"I know two of the places anyway," added Gertie.