Jane waited round a while expectantly, studying over the wonderful possibility of moving but finally got tired and went to Halford's.

When she came home to dinner the sitting-room door was still closed and a steady murmur of voices could be heard.

Olga rang the bell for dinner twice before that closed door was opened.

Chicken Little eyed them curiously as they filed out. Her father looked eager and excited, but her mother's eyes were red as if she had been crying again.

Dr. Morton put his arm around Chicken Little as she pa.s.sed her and drew her tenderly to him.

"How would you like to go and live on a farm, Humbug, where you could have chickens and calves and ponies to play with? It would put more color into your face I'll be bound."

"Could I have a pony, Father, all my own?"

Dr. Morton nodded.

"Gee, wouldn't that be fun?"

"Jane," said Mrs. Morton severely, "how often have I told you that little ladies do not use slang?

"You seem to be planning to let the children run wild when they get out to Kansas," she added, turning to Dr. Morton, "but I will have them use correct English."

It did not take the news that the Mortons were moving to Kansas, long to spread in the small town. Visitors flocked in to sympathize with Mrs.

Morton over going to a new country, and Dr. Morton's friends and patients stopped him on the street to express their regret at losing him.

There were still many things to be arranged before they could set a date for their departure. Their chief concern was the home. Frank had been fortunate enough to sell his pretty cottage, but the old-fashioned gabled house with its wistaria vines and terraced lawns, was not so easy to dispose of. Dr. Morton hoped to rent it for a year or two until he could sell it. He was most anxious that they should all accompany Frank and Marian to the new home in September.

One afternoon as Chicken Little was coming leisurely up the walk with Katy and Gertie, Mrs. Morton called from the window:

"Hurry up, Chickabiddy, there is somebody here you would like to see."

The little girls started to run, guessing eagerly as to who the visitor might be.

As Chicken Little crossed the threshold the mysterious someone pounced upon her and lifted her up bodily from the floor, exclaiming:

"Oh, Chicken Little, I've been homesick to see you in spite of the kitty! Dear me, how you have grown!"

It was Alice, laughing and crying and hugging her all in one instant.

Katy and Gertie came in for their share, too. Then they must all go into the parlor to meet Uncle Joseph, for he had come all the way from Cincinnati with Alice.

Jane edged rather shyly up to the dignified, gray-haired man who was talking to her mother. She hadn't forgotten the evening when she had written to him in fear and trembling beside the very window where he was sitting now. But Uncle Joseph rose to meet her with a broad smile making little kindly wrinkles around his eyes.

"So this is Chicken Little Jane," he said, taking both her hands and looking down into her wondering brown eyes. "Well, Chicken Little, I believe I should have known you anywhere. You look so exactly like yourself, big eyes and all."

Uncle Joseph laughed at her mystified expression.

Alice came to the rescue.

"He means you look like my description of you, dear. I shall take great credit to myself."

"You needn't," said Uncle Joseph, "for that's only partly what I mean.

She looks like what she does. What do you make of that?" he demanded, turning suddenly to Katy, who was regarding him with open-eyed curiosity.

Katy was startled but her keen wits. .h.i.t the nail on the head promptly.

"I guess you mean she looks like she'd do anything she thought she ought to and you couldn't make her if she didn't want to."

"Good for you, child, that's just what I do mean--and it is a very valuable trait of character, little girls. Chicken Little, I was much obliged to you for showing me what I ought to do last winter."

He drew her to him with an affectionate pat.

"And I am grateful to you for so many things, Jane. I shall never be able to half thank you, dear." And Alice came over to give her another hug.

"Don't praise the child so much, you'll spoil her," objected Mrs.

Morton.

"I can't help it, Mrs. Morton--she and Mr. Harding have given me Uncle Joseph and now it looks as if the letter she took to Mr. Harding, might give me back my father's property and this old home."

"I am in hopes that may help you and Dr. Morton, Madam," said Uncle Joseph gravely. "Mr. Harding tells us Dr. Morton is anxious to sell the place, and if Mr. Ga.s.sett makes the settlement we hope for, he will simply pay back the purchase money to Dr. Morton because the place was never his to sell. He has arranged to meet us tomorrow morning."

It was several years later before Jane was old enough to understand exactly how the letter she and Gertie had carried to d.i.c.k Harding could work all the wonders it seemed to be responsible for.

Mrs. Morton said it was the work of Providence that this special letter was preserved and found at just the right time. Uncle Joseph declared that Alice's asking them to hunt through the old closets had more to do with it than Providence. But d.i.c.k Harding said it wasn't Providence at all--it was paper dolls and Chicken Little Jane.

"At any rate," he said, "I never heard of Providence making a man turn green, and Ga.s.sett certainly did when I showed him his own writing and read him about two paragraphs of it. There it was in black and white that the mortgage on the house had been paid in full, and that the bank had just returned Mr. Fletcher's stock certificates deposited with them to secure a firm debt. The letter was jubilant over the business success that had enabled Fletcher and Ga.s.sett to pay up, and Mr. Ga.s.sett declared he was grateful beyond measure to Alice's father for risking his bank stock for the firm credit. Nice way he took to show his grat.i.tude, wasn't it?" d.i.c.k Harding looked the disgust he could not express.

Uncle Joseph had been telling the Mortons what happened when Mr. Ga.s.sett met them in Mr. Harding's office.

"Did he show any signs of fight at the start?" inquired Dr. Morton.

"Oh, he tried to bl.u.s.ter for a moment," replied d.i.c.k, "but I asked him 'Do we go on with this case in court, Mr. Ga.s.sett, or do we not? Yes, or no?' 'No,' said Mr. Ga.s.sett, so we got down to business."

"He was willing to do anything to hush the matter up," added Uncle Joseph. "It took exactly ten minutes to hand over a check for the money Dr. Morton paid him for the house, and to give Alice a paper resigning all claim to the bank stock. I have an idea the old rascal was afraid we might discover something else he had stolen."

"The Ga.s.setts are going away I understand," said Dr. Morton. "Well, it's a lucky strike for me to get the money back for the house. I am delighted, too, that Alice is to have her parent's home. Do you ever expect to come back to live in it, Alice?"

Alice blushed and d.i.c.k Harding looked confused.

"I hope to--some day," she answered softly.

Uncle Joseph and Alice went back to Cincinnati on the fifteenth of August. The next two weeks were busy ones in the Morton home. The old gabled house was in the dire throes of packing.

Chicken Little could not remember any previous moving and she thoroughly enjoyed the excitement despite the fact that her mother looked worried, and her father was cross when she got in his way. She watched him fill box after box with books, for Dr. Morton had a large professional library besides the family books which ran into the hundreds. She loved to see the crates and barrels swallow up dishes and crockery like hungry monsters with wide-open jaws. She found even the wrapping of chair legs with excelsior, and the crating of bureau and tables, interesting.

"Looks just like they were put in cages," remarked Katy, peering through the slats at a lonesome-looking, marble-topped stand.

Gertie gazed about at the stripped walls and windows and gave a little shiver. "I don't like it--it looks like you were gone, Chicken Little."

The house certainly had a forlorn look and an empty ring. Pete sat on his perch grim and curious. He seemed to regard the bustle and hammering as a personal affront.