"Yes?"

"Would you mind--of course it sounds awful of me to ask you--but--it'd be so much easier for me with Mother if you'd just tell her, oh, what you said about my being a comfort and not bothering."

Chicken Little was both ashamed and eager.

The Captain threw back his head and laughed until the tears came into his eyes.

"My dear, I'll make this call all right with your mother, never fear, for I want you to come again. I am going to ask her if you and Ernest can't both honor me by coming to dinner next Sunday."

He was as good as his word but when Chicken Little went to bed her mother said sorrowfully: "Chicken Little, I shan't scold you because I promised Captain Clarke I would let you off this time--but I didn't think you would do such a thing--behind my back, too."

And her mother had asked Katy and Gertie! She had told her after she came home that evening.

CHAPTER IV

A CHERRY PENANCE

Chicken Little awoke the next morning with a bad taste in her mouth.

She was ashamed to have grieved her mother by her escapade the day before, especially when Mother was undertaking all this extra trouble for her happiness. But she just couldn't be sorry she had gone to the Captain's! It would be something to remember all her life. She gave a skip of delight every time she thought of all the lovely things--and the Captain's stories. No, she simply couldn't be sorry, but she knew Mother expected her to be sorry. Of course, she might have got acquainted with him some other way, but her father wouldn't promise ever to take her.

"Little girls have too much curiosity for their own good, Humbug," was all she had been able to get from him.

She could see at breakfast that Mother expected an apology right away.

She could feel disapproval in her good morning and in the way she kissed her. Mother seemed to have the power to make her feel mean and guilty all over. But she wasn't sorry.

While they were doing the dishes she told her mother all about the wonderful things she had seen. Mrs. Morton listened in silence. She was waiting. Chicken Little heaved a deep sigh and did her best.

"I know it was wrong for me to go without permission, Mother, and I won't ever do it again, and I think you're just beautiful to ask Katy and Gertie. I'll help every single bit I can; you see if I don't."

"I am glad you realize you did very wrong, little daughter, is that all you have to say to me?"

Chicken Little looked at her Mother and fidgeted. Her Mother returned her look gravely. Still she couldn't--it would be fibbing if she did.

The silence became oppressive.

"You may go and pick a couple of quarts of cherries, Jane." Mrs. Morton handed her the tin lard pail, searching her face once more.

It was a glorious June morning and Jane enjoyed picking cherries. Marian saw her and came too, establishing Jilly comfortably at the foot of the tree with a rubber doll and the two pups as companions. Jilly was usually a placid baby and she settled down contentedly to tr.i.m.m.i.n.g up her doll with dandelions. Buz, the indolent, curled himself at her feet and was asleep inside of five minutes, but Huz looked up longingly into the tree at Jane. He seemed to be racking his doggish brain as to the best method of reaching her. He kept making little futile leaps, whining impatiently. Finally, he stood up on his hind legs, planted his fore paws against the tree trunk, and barked dolefully. Jane bent down and mischievously dropped a cherry into his open mouth. Huz choked, sputtered, and after a first rapturous crunch, hastily deposited the acid fruit upon the ground. He looked reproachfully at Chicken Little.

"There now," said Marian, "he'll never trust you again." Marian raced Chicken Little with the cherry picking and the pails were filled far too soon.

"Jane," said Marian as she started reluctantly back to the house, "if Mother Morton can spare you this morning to help me pick them, I believe I'll get some cherries to put up--there are loads ripe this morning."

"I'd love to, Marian, I'll take these in and find out if she'll let me."

She came flying back in a jiffy with two big milk pails. "All right, Mother says I may help you till noon."

They had a merry morning. The cherry trees lined the lane which was also a public road, and several neighbors going by, stopped to exchange a few words. Mr. Benton had his joke, for he discovered Jane swinging up in the topmost boughs and reaching still higher for certain unusually luscious ones that eluded her covetous fingers.

"Well, Mrs. Morton," he said, addressing Marian and ignoring Chicken Little, "that's the largest variety of robin I've ever seen in these parts. I 'low you must have brought the seed from the east with you. You wouldn't mind if I took a shot at it, I 'spose. 'Pears like birds of that size must be mighty destructive to cherries."

"Why Mr. Benton, we shouldn't like to have you kill our birds; we're attached to them. But you are mistaken, that isn't a robin, it's a Jane bird--they're rare around here."

Mr. Benton laughed and Chicken Little got even by hurling a big cl.u.s.ter of cherries at him. She aimed them at his lap, but they struck him full in the face to her great glee.

"Well now, them Jane birds ain't so bad." Mr. Benton remarked eating the fruit with a relish.

The morning sped by briskly. Jilly created a diversion by getting her small self into trouble. Marian noticed that she was picking something off the tree trunk and putting it into the pocket of her little ruffled ap.r.o.n.

"What's Jilly getting there? Can you see, Chicken Little?"

Chicken Little twisted and peered until she could take a good look.

"Why--Marian, I do believe it's ants! The silly baby--they'll bite her!"

Marian hurried down the tree to rescue her offspring, but not before Jilly set up a wail of anguish.

"Naughty sings bite Jilly!" she moaned, as her Mother picked the small tormentors off her arms and bare legs. But Jilly was a sunny child, and as soon as the pain eased, found a smile and remarked complacently: "Ants bite Jilly, too bad, too bad!"

Jane braced herself firmly in a crotch where the red fruit was thickest and picked mechanically while she unburdened her mind of the previous day's doings. She chattered about her adventures till Marian could have repeated every word of her conversation with the Captain off by heart, and might have given a pretty accurate inventory of his possessions, or at least the portion of them that Jane had seen.

Marian was genuinely interested and liked to hear Chicken Little tell it all, but she wondered what Mrs. Morton had thought about the junketing.

"But what did your Mother say, dear?" she asked finally.

"She didn't like it."

"You didn't suppose she would, did you?"

"N-o-o, but----"

"Yes?"

"I'd never have got to go if I'd waited for permission. And, Marian,"

Chicken Little thought it was time to change the subject, "how do you make yourself be sorry, when you ought to be and aren't?"

Marian wanted to laugh but she saw her young sister had not intended to be funny. She half guessed the situation.

"Why Jane, I hardly know, the old monks used to set themselves penances to atone for their sins."

"Did it make them really sorry? Do you think?"

"Well, yes, I should think it must have or they would never have had the courage to persist in them. Some of their penances were terribly severe such as beating themselves with knotted ropes, but I shouldn't advise anything of that kind for you. You might try to make up for your fault in some way. Perhaps you might give up something you like very much."

Jane didn't say anything more, and it was a day or two later before Marian learned the effect of her words.