Chicken Little Jane on the Big John Part 23

At noon they took another tack.

"I forgot to tell you that Mamie sent her regards to you and Katy,"

Ernest remarked casually.

"She said she was sorry you didn't come, too," added Sherm.

Jane lifted her eyebrows at Katy. Katy shook her head.

"By the way, Sis, I forgot to tell you that Captain Clarke invited us all to come over to supper to-morrow night. He said to tell you he appreciated that bread very much. And while I think of it, if you can spare a little of your valuable time, I'd thank you to rip that st.i.tching out of our clothes. I want to wear mine to the Captain's."

"All right, we'll rip out the st.i.tching if you'll bake us a batch of bread as good as the one you took."

"Not much, Mary Ann! We took the bread to the Captain, all right."

"Yes, but we only intended to send one loaf--and, besides, you made us a lot of trouble."

"Mother, haven't the girls got to take out that st.i.tching?"

"I think Jane's proposition is a fair one, Ernest," observed Dr. Morton dryly.

The boys retired to their room early that night where they worked most industriously with scissors and penknife and clothes brush. They had paid a hurried visit to Chicken Little's room when they first came upstairs. This visit did much to sweeten their hour of labor.

The girls were spending the evening at Frank's. They were late in getting home. The night was hot and they hated to go to bed until it began to cool off. Dr. and Mrs. Morton were sitting on the front porch.

"Go to bed, children. Father was just starting over to call you." Mrs.

Morton kissed them each goodnight.

Dr. and Mrs. Morton followed them in and had barely settled themselves for the night, when an unearthly shriek rent the air, followed by another and yet another.

"What in thunder are those children up to now?" Dr. Morton spoke in the tone of one who considered that patience had ceased to be a virtue.

"O Mother, come quick--there's snakes or frogs or something in our bed and we haven't any light!"

Mrs. Morton hurriedly lit a lamp and went to the rescue, followed by the doctor armed with a stick.

Holding the lamp aloft they went into the room, the three girls, who had retired in a panic to the head of the stairs, bringing up the rear. Katy had scrambled into bed and out again in haste, dragging the coverlet and sheet half off on the floor. The interior of the bed was fully exposed to view. It was already occupied--not by snakes, but by a handful of fat, squirming, little polliwogs.

"Ugh, I thought it was a snake--they were so slimy and cold!" Katy s.h.i.+vered at the recollection.

Dr. Morton grimly gathered up the polliwogs, then, leaving his wife to restore order, went into the boys' room and held a conversation behind closed doors. No report of what was said ever reached the girls, but the practical jokes ended then and there.

CHAPTER X

SUPPER AT THE CAPTAIN'S

Their late unpleasantness had made the young people unusually polite to each other. Irritating subjects were carefully avoided the next day.

When they set out for the Captain's, Sherm gallantly handed Katy in to the front seat to sit beside Ernest, while he sandwiched himself between Jane and Gertie. The boys had finally concluded that the real joke was on them and were trying to make up.

The Captain received them at the gate.

"I can't be grateful enough for that bread. I haven't had such bread since I was a boy at home. I believe I am indebted to both Chicken Little and Gertie for the treat. Wing Fan is consumed with envy and asked me to-day if I would ask the honorable miss to tell him how she make the so wonderful bread."

"I'd be delighted to," replied Chicken Little, "only it took more than telling for Gertie and me. We tried ever so many times before we got it just right, but, of course, Wing understands more about cooking than we did."

"Well, judging by the bread, you seem to know a good deal about cooking."

Sherm could not resist. "Yes, and the girls are first rate at sewing, too!"

This was too much for them all. They laughed until the Captain begged to be let in on the fun.

Their host had an unexpected treat for them. "You are to help me christen my new row boat. It came four days ago, but I have been saving it until you could all go with me."

He led the way down the creek to a long, deep pool, where a blue and white skiff floated gaily at anchor. A piece of white cardboard was tacked over the name so they could not see it.

"I covered it up to see if you could guess it. I'll give one of those Siamese elephants to the one who gets it first."

A lively contest followed. The girls suggested all the poetical names they could think of from Sea Rover to Bounding Billow. The boys, after a few wild guesses, settled down to the names of places in the neighborhood, and women's names.

The Captain laughed at their wild hazards.

"It isn't the name of any s.h.i.+p or famous naval hero?" Ernest asked this question for the second time.

The Captain shook his head. "Some of your neighborhood guessers were the nearest. There's one thing I'm sure of, Chicken Little won't guess it."

This was hint enough for Sherm. "Chicken Little," he sang out instantly.

"Bright boy, the elephant is yours."

"Did you really?" Chicken Little eyed the long strip of cardboard that concealed the name, incredulously.

The Captain took out his penknife and deftly ripped the covering off.

There it was--the letters an inch tall in white paint: "Chicken Little."

"I think we should have a proper christening ceremony while we are at it. Ernest, would you mind stepping up to the house and asking Wing for a bottle of ginger ale?"

When Ernest returned with the bottle of amber-colored liquid, Captain Clarke turned to Gertie.

"We must divide the honors, will you break the bottle over the bow while Sherm pushes off? Champagne is customary, but this is better for a prohibition state, and for young folks in any state."

Gertie took the bottle and waited for directions. The others looked on curiously. Sherm untied the boat, and, holding the cord in his hand, also waited.

"Perhaps we'd better consider Ernest the crew; that cord is hardly long enough to permit the _Chicken Little_ to float off in style, and we don't want to have to swim, to bring her back. Jump in, Ernest; you know how to handle an oar in fresh water, don't you?"

"I think I can manage it."