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[Illustration: Until the water was dripping from noses and chins.]
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Chicken Little Jane
By
Lily Munsell Ritchie
Publishers
BARSE & HOPKINS
New York, N. Y.--Newark, N. J.
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Copyright, 1920
By
Barse & Hopkins
Adventures of Chicken Little Jane
Printed in the United States of America
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"To Olive F. Y. Dart, the kind friend who first encouraged me to
write, I gratefully dedicate my first book."
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Alice and the Siege of Acre 11
II. The Millinery Store 29
III. The Duck Creek Treasure 45
IV. Chicken Little Jane and Her Mother 65
V. The Back-Yard Furnace 78
VI. The Wedding 91
VII. Chicken Little Jane and Dick Harding Play Providence 108
VIII. Christmas and the Day After 131
IX. Chicken Little Jane's Gift 150
X. Skating 163
XI. Chicken Little Jane's Birthday 176
XII. Poor Ernest and Poor Marian 189
XIII. Forbidden Books and Candy Hearts 205
XIV. May Baskets 219
XV. Thunder and Gooseberry Bushes 234
XVI. Letters and a Surprise 249
XVII. Cousin May's Party 260
XVIII. The Children Go Exploring 272
XIX. Things Happen 286
XX. Off To the Ranch 298
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Until the water was dripping from noses and chins Frontispiece
Facing Page
By way of reply Katy opened the book and began 20
Wiping his eyes as the puffs came thicker 80
"Give her this on the train and--please carry it carefully" 154
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CHICKEN LITTLE JANE
CHAPTER I
ALICE AND THE SIEGE OF ACRE
"Chicken Little! Chick-en Lit-tle!"
The three little girls in the fence corner looked up but no one
responded.
"Chicken Little _Jane_!" The voice was a trifle more insistent.
The little girl in the blue gingham dress and white frilled pinafore
looked at her small hostess reproachfully.
"Why don't you answer, Jane?"
"'Cause I'll have to go in. She'll think I don't hear if I keep still."
"Ja-ane!--I want you!" The voice was several notes higher and betrayed
irritation.
"She's getting mad," said the little girl in the pink dress and white
frilled pinafore--sister to the blue dress. "You'd better go--she's
leaning out the window and she'll see us in a minute." Katy Halford was
facing the house and her facts agreed with what Jane Morton knew of her
mother's ways.
She got to her feet reluctantly.
"Yes-m, I'm coming!" she yelled in a shrill treble. "You come, too,
girls," she added in a lower tone. "Maybe she won't make me stay if I
have company."
"All right--let's tell her about Alice." Katy jumped up quickly.
Gertie Halford followed suit.
The two small sisters were as like as possible in dress and as unlike in
disposition. They were always immaculately starched and neat with their
thick brown hair parted in front and braided into smooth tight braids
ending in bows the exact shade of their dresses. These bows were a
constant source of envy to Jane Morton, because they never seemed to
drop off or hang by three hairs as her own invariably did.
Gertie Halford was a gentle little mouse of a girl with soft hazel eyes,
who loved pretty things and hated anything rough or boisterous. Her
sister Katy's gray eyes, on the contrary, were shrewd and keen, as was
their small owner, who could be relied upon to take care of herself and
have her own way on all occasions. The sisters were nine and eleven
respectively, and Chicken Little not quite ten.
Jane Morton or Chicken Little Jane, as she had been nicknamed while a
toddler, because she was always teasing for the story of "Chicken
Little," was usually described as all eyes. Her slim, active legs,
however, were also a very important part of her anatomy. But her eyes
easily held the center of the stage--big and brown and wondering, they
had a way of looking at you as if you were the only person about. Her
straight brown hair was swept back from her face by a round rubber comb
and tied atop her head with a ribbon for further security. Despite these
precautions, it usually looked as if it needed brushing. Her clothes,
too, were prone to accidents because of her habit of roosting on picket
fences or tree branches. Today, however, she was almost as spick and
span as Katy and Gertie. She had just been through the painful process
of cleaning up after dinner.
The children burst into Mrs. Morton's bedroom without the ceremony of
knocking, too intent upon the news they had to tell, to inquire what
Mrs. Morton wanted.
"Say, Mother," Chicken Little began jerkily with what breath was left
from running upstairs, "Alice says she used to live in this house when
she was a little girl!"
Mrs. Morton paused in adjusting the folds of black lace around her plump
shoulders and stared at her small daughter in astonishment.
"Alice--in this house--a servant-girl--nonsense! Dear me, I hope she
isn't untruthful; she seemed so promising."
"But she says her father used to own this house--she says they weren't
always poor, and she never 'spected to have to be a hired girl. Yes, and
Katy says she remembers when the Fletchers lived here and they used to
have a lot of company--didn't you, Katy?" Katy nodded importantly.
"Yes, Ma-am, my mother says it's a shame Alice has to go out to work.
She says it would break her mother's heart, only she's dead and doesn't
know it."
"And her father's dead, too," broke in Gertie, anxious to add her quota,
"but she's got an uncle and aunt that ain't dead--they live a long way
off in Cincinnati, but they're so stuck up they won't do anything for
Alice."
"Well, never mind now, I'll investigate this some other time," Mrs.
Morton replied absently, still fussing with her lace. Tiny beads of
perspiration were standing out on her flushed face--she kept dabbing
them away with her handkerchief.
It was a hot day for late September and Mrs. Morton found tight corsets
and a close-fitting silk dress trials to Christian fortitude. But she
was a resolute, dignified lady who knew her duty to her church and to
society and did it, regardless of her own comfort or her family's.
"But, Mother, aren't you sorry for Alice?"
"My dear, I didn't call you in to talk about Alice. I want you to play
quietly with your dolls this afternoon like little ladies. Remember to
keep your dress clean, Chicken Little, you have to wear it again
tomorrow afternoon. I don't want to come home and find it all stained
and torn off the belt as I did yesterday. And don't forget to be polite
to your guests. Kiss me good-by now, and run along."
The children, a little disappointed over the meager effect of their
sensation, obediently filed out.
They collected the dolls and ensconced themselves under a spreading
maple in the fence corner to play house, but dolls somehow seemed tame.
"I thought she'd be more s'prised," ventured Katy after a few moments,
as the trio watched Mrs. Morton sweep down the front walk to the gate,
the shimmering folds of her gray silk dragging behind her.
"My, I wish I had such a grand dress," said Gertie, changing the
subject.
"Your mother's got a lot of dresses, hasn't she?"
"Yes, heaps, but I don't want any old silk dresses. I hate to be dressed
up, you can't climb trees or nothing, and your mother always tells you
to be a little lady. Bet I won't be a little lady when I grow up."
"Why, Chicken Little _Jane_, you'll have to be!"
"Sha'n't either--Mother says I'm the worst tomboy she ever saw and I'll
disgrace my family if I don't look out. I don't care if I do--I think
it's fun to be something different. Maybe I'll be a circus-rider." Jane
swung her unfortunate doll about by one arm to emphasize her decision,
and smiled defiantly.
Katy refused to be impressed.
"Pooh, you never saw a circus-rider--you said yesterday your mother'd
never let you go to a circus. I've been to six, counting the one Uncle
Sim took us to in the evening."
"I don't care, I've been to see the animals--and I just guess I did see
circus-riders, too, in the parade!"
"Well, you'd have to dress up if you were a circus-rider 'cause they
have lots of fussy skirts and spangles and things--only they aren't very
clean most always. I saw one close to once. I'd rather have a lace shawl
and a beautiful watch like your mother's," put in Gertie.
"I don't care, I like horses and I just hate dolls they're so pokey,"
retorted Jane recklessly, rather floored by so much wisdom. "Let's play
our children are all taking a nap and go and get Ernest and do something
lively."
Katy pricked up her ears at the mention of Ernest's name, having no
brothers herself, she considered boys extremely interesting. She
promptly threw her cherished Rowena under a heap of doll clothes, and
was on her feet in an instant calling, "Come on."
Gentle little Gertie eyed her half undressed doll child ruefully.
"'Tisn't nice to leave them this way. You girls go on and I'll put
Minnie's nighty on and tuck her in."
Chicken Little shoved both doll and doll clothes unceremoniously into
the fence corner and was after Katy in a flash. Gertie lingered not only
to tuck away her own doll but to rescue the neglected playthings of the
others, and to put each doll child carefully to bed, with sundry
croonings and caresses. Then she followed slowly to the house.
Katy and Jane were already having troubles of their own. Ernest, who was
four years older than Jane, was deep in a book and deaf to all coaxing
and persuasion on the part of his gypsy-sister and her friend. He was
stretched on the floor in the embrasure of the dormer window, nursing
his face in his hands, his near-sighted eyes fairly boring into the
pages. He was a lanky, sober-faced boy with a trick of twisting a lock
of hair as he read that resulted in its perpetually hanging down in his
eyes to his great annoyance. The boy liked to be ship-shape and he made
manful attempts to let it alone. He plastered it down with bay-rum till
the family begged for mercy from the smell. It was even on record that
he once went so far as to dab it with glue with painful consequences.
Today he was so absorbed that he had almost twisted the offending lock
into a double bowknot and he heeded the children no more than flies.
Finally Katy audaciously grabbed his book away, and he came to life with
a growl.
"Here, drop that, infant, give me that book!"
He raised up on his elbow threateningly, but Katy, shaking her head
saucily, flew out the door and down the staircase in a flutter of
delicious fear.
Ernest got to his feet blusteringly.
"Mother said you kids were to keep out of my room and you can just go
get that book for me or I'll tell her when she comes home."
He made a grab for his sister's arm, but she eluded him skilfully and
darted after Katy, chanting maliciously: "Get it yourself--get it
yourself--old cross patch!"
An exciting chase followed. Ernest tearing out the front door almost
knocked over Gertie who was just coming in. He quickly righted her with
a smile--he was fond of little Gertie who never bothered. The momentary
delay gave the girls a start and Ernest saw Katy's flying skirts
disappearing round the kitchen ell, with Chicken Little close behind
her, as he turned the corner of the house.
Once at the back he found Chicken Little had sought sanctuary with
Alice, the maid, who was sitting under a tree peeling peaches, but Katy
had vanished.
"Which way'd she go, Alice?" Alice shook her head teasingly, at the same
time glancing toward the kitchen door.
Ernest bolted in, but a swift search of the house revealed no Katy. Jane
still clung to Alice clapping her hands derisively.
"Has she gone home?" he demanded.
Chicken Little shook her head.
"Am I hot or cold?"
"Hot! My, you're just burning!"
Gertie, who had followed, stared up into the branches overhead, but
Ernest, gazing after, caught no glimpse of Katy's pink gingham or
mischievous face.
"Bet you can't find her," jeered Jane; "boys aren't smart as girls if
they are so stuck on themselves."
"Bet Alice hid her."
"Bet she didn't."
At this moment a whistle at the side gate interrupted them. Ernest
trilled in answer and a moment later Carol Brown and Sherman Dart,
Ernest's two sworn cronies, came round the corner with a whoop.
"You smarties can have the old book. Mother'll make you give it back
tonight, anyway."
A chuckle overhead punctuated his sentence, and some fifteen feet above
him, seated gracefully astride the comb of the low roof, Katy waved the
book at him tantalizingly.
"Gee, how'd you get up there?"
By way of reply Katy opened the book at random and began to read:
"The third crusade which had opened so disastrously, was at last to be
prosecuted with vigor. The eight days' truce was over and Philip of
France again led the assault upon the walls of Acre. King Richard slowly
convalescing was borne to the scene of conflict where----"
Here the boys interrupted with cat calls, and Ernest shied a green apple
which Katy successfully dodged.
"How'd you get up?"
"For me to know and you to find out."
"Say, Alice, how'd she get up?"
"Climbed."
"Oh, say, honest how did she?"
"The same way that Philip and Richard got into Acre."
"Ladder?"
"Yes, the man who fixed the eave troughs this morning left a ladder
here. It's on the other side."
[Illustration: By way of reply Katy opened the book and began.]
The three boys made a bolt to investigate and soon swarmed up on the
roof with Jane close behind.
The old white house with its big front porch and green blinds was a
notable one. Built upon a terrace, it stood several feet above the
tree-shaded lawns about it. A group of old apple trees crowded close up
to the windows at the side and rear. Both the western and southern
gables were overhung with great wistaria vines, so old the stems were
like huge cables and could easily bear a man's weight, as the children's
grown brother Frank had already discovered. He had been locked out one
night, and wishing to get in without disturbing the family, had quietly
gone up the vines, hand-over-hand, to his own window.
The old house boasted many gables and more dormer windows, each bedroom
having one or more. The children found these little nooks cosy places to
play and read, indeed only a little less fascinating than the great
rambling closets which were only partly enclosed and seemed to end, no
one knew where, off under the roof. They had never been able to fully
explore these--indeed their mother had not encouraged such voyages of
discovery, because there were sundry narrow places, dark and dusty,
where wriggling through in snake-fashion wrought havoc with their
clothes.
The children were on the roof of the low kitchen, a kitchen that had
apparently been an afterthought, for the roof sloped both ways like an
inverted V and had no connection with the main roof.
"I tell you what, boys," said Ernest after they had explored it to their
satisfaction, "let's play the 'Siege of Acre.' We could use this roof
for the tower."
"Aren't enough of us!" objected Carol, a big, handsome boy with tight
blond curls who was inclined to be lazy.
"Can't we play, too?" put in Chicken Little.
"Shucks, girls don't know how to fight."
"Don't be too sure of that," said Alice. "We girls used to play all
sorts of games when I was a child."
"We'll have to divide up some way," said Sherm. "Ernest, let's you and
me be Richard and Philip, and Carol can be the sultan and defend the
place. And we could have the girls up here for the sultan's wives--he
had a lot--they'd be out of the way."
"Not on your life," grunted Carol, disgusted at having all the girls put
in his charge.
"It won't be bad, Carol, the garrison'll have to have a lot of
provisions, and I'll give you some apples and cookies if you'll let the
little girls play," Alice interposed tactfully.
"Cricky, Alice, you're a brick!"
"Gee, Alice, wish you lived at our house!" Carol and Sherm exclaimed in
unison.
Alice Fletcher, a sturdy, intelligent-looking girl of twenty, was
pleased at the boy's praise. "Thanks, my lords!" she replied, waving a
peeling at them.
"Oh, well, I don't care if the girls'll keep out of the way," conceded
Carol.
"Gertie can be the wives and me and Jane will be the soldiers. Carol
will need somebody to help him," said ambitious Katy.
The preliminaries were soon arranged. Timid Gertie was safely stowed
away where she could hold to the chimney if a sudden panic seized her,
and the boys graciously posted Jane and Katy on the battlements,
otherwise known as the comb of the roof, to man the engines and spy out
the landscape. They kicked off their shoes, the better to cling, and
pranced around stocking-footed regardless of possible parental
displeasure.
Ernest and Sherman were just preparing to rush up the ladder armed with
villainous-looking battle-axes made out of old lath, when Alice halted
them.
"But you'll have to decide how to take the tower. If Carol tries to keep
you off and knocks over the ladder you'll get hurt. Suppose you give him
a switch and if he can touch you before you can get within two rounds
of the top, you're dead, but if you can touch him, he'll have to
surrender."
The opposing forces parleyed. The scaling party was rather dubious about
tackling the sultan with only one scaling ladder, but they finally
compromised on very short switches, so short in fact that Alice was
worried lest the sultan should promptly take a header off the roof in
his efforts to repel the invaders.
The attack began merrily. The boys swarmed up the ladder with
blood-curdling yells of "Richard for England!" from Ernest and shriller
cries of "France! France!" from Sherm, whose voice always trailed off
into high C when he got excited.
The "sultan's wives" hugged the chimney in her excitement and Captain
Jane promptly deserted the battlements and slid down to reinforce the
sultan who certainly looked lonesome. There was much ducking and dodging
and great flourishing of switches to the imminent risk of all concerned,
for Chicken Little came down full force against the sultan in her
frantic efforts to help, and Ernest, alias Richard, stepped on the King
of France's royal fingers when forced to retreat from the sultan's
spear.
It soon became apparent that the advantage lay with the defenders of
Acre. The besieging monarchs withdrew down the ladder to hold a council
of war, while the sultan's wives and troops--it was difficult to
distinguish them--crowed triumphantly. They even did a little
undignified taunting of the discomfited enemy.
Alice had been cheering the besiegers and now joined their counsels.
After some whispering they divided forces, and King Richard climbed up
the old apple tree at the corner of the house while King Philip led his
forces up the scaling ladder again.
The sultan was at his wit's end, but finally left Captain Jane in
command at the head of the ladder while he tried to repulse this flank
movement. Captain Jane fought valiantly, and once more France was driven
back. The sultan was equally successful. The cause of the Crusaders
began to look dark, when suddenly the sultan detecting Captain Katy in
the act of munching the cherished provisions, proposed a ten-minute
truce, but the invaders with their weather eye on the self-same goodies,
haughtily declined.
Again they whispered. Suddenly Alice clapped her hands and hurriedly
explained. Immediately King Philip once more planted his scaling ladder,
but his ally disappeared around the house.
The sultan sent his aide over to the other side of the roof to scout,
but King Richard continued his march around the house and was soon
hidden from the observers on the kitchen roof, by the angle of the main
house.
Presently queer rasping noises were heard. The besieged craned their
necks to see what was going on. The sultan became so curious and
apprehensive about his rear that he almost let the King of France get up
the ladder. The ominous sounds continued, bumping, scraping, tapping,
punctuated by sundry exclamations and advice to "Be careful!" from
Alice, who had followed the English forces.
Philip of France, so interested in the efforts of his British allies,
forgot to attack and had several narrow escapes from being captured
himself.
Finally, after one prolonged scrape accompanied by several grunts, the
sturdy figure of Richard towered an instant on the roof of the main
house six feet above, then with a whoop of triumph, cautiously dropped
down among them amid the shrieks of the defenders.
Acre had fallen.
The vanquished garrison pressed round him, not to demand mercy, but to
ask questions.
"How'd you get up there?" Chicken Little demanded.
"Bet Alice put you up to that," this from Carol.
"Should think you'd been scared to death!" whispered Gertie, still
breathless with surprise.
"Pshaw, 'twas easy--just shinned up that wistaria vine on the gable,
it's awful old and strong. I've climbed heaps of times before, but I
wouldn't of thought of it, if Alice hadn't told me."
"My, wisht I could climb it!" said Katy fairly awestruck with admiration
at such daring.
"Oh, you couldn't--you're just a girl, but I'll show you where I got
up," said Ernest condescendingly. "Say, where's all the apples and
cookies?"
The hint was sufficient and both besieged and besiegers, perched in
various attitudes along the low roof like a flock of variegated
chickens, were soon merrily celebrating the downfall of Acre.
It was thus that Mrs. Morton found them, coming around the house a few
moments later in search of her offspring.
"Children! What are you doing?" she gasped in horrified tones. "Jane
Morton, I thought I told you to play quietly. The idea of little girls
climbing up on a roof. Put on your shoes this instant--all of you--and
come down! Ernest, didn't you know better than to let your little sister
go into such a dangerous place?"
Neither the valorous sultan, nor the doughty Crusaders were proof
against this onslaught, and the visitors speedily retreated homewards
while their crestfallen host and hostess went to bed to think over their
sins. Chicken Little indeed started to say something about Alice having
let them, but stopped suddenly, warned by a dig in the ribs from
Ernest's elbow.
While the more favored members of the family were at supper that night,
and Ernest was tossing restlessly and wondering if they were having
apple dumplings, a small, warm hand reached up beside the bed and
touched him.
"Hush, here's your book, Ern, and here's two slices of bread and jam,
and some cheese and apple pie."
"Where in the Dickens did you----"
"Somebody poked a plate with it on inside my door a minute ago. We'd
better eat it quick."
Ernest needed no urging.
"Do you suppose Frank brought it?"
"No," replied Chicken Little between mouthfuls, "I s'pose Alice."