OFF TO THE RANCH
"Mother, there's a whole pile of my clothes up here you forgot to pack."
Chicken Little's voice floated plaintively down the staircase.
"No, that is all right, dear. They are things you have outgrown and I am
going to give them to Maggie Casey. Pat is coming for them this morning.
By the way, if I am not here when he comes, just get them for him, will
you, please?"
Pat was late and Mrs. Morton had gone over to Marian's before he
arrived. Chicken Little gathered up the bundle and soberly presented it
to him. Pat thanked her but lingered cap in hand, shifting his weight
from one foot to the other uneasily.
"I am sorry you're after going away," he said finally, conquering his
embarrassment. "You'll be coming back I hope."
Chicken Little was at a loss for the proper reply. She smiled and asked
him if he would like to see Pete.
To her surprise the parrot walked over to Pat at his first chirrup and
climbed up on the hand he held out and on up to his shoulder.
"Why, I never saw Pete do that with a stranger before. He must like
you."
"We got acquainted that day I brought him home. Didn't we, Pete?" Pat
stroked his feathers caressingly and Pete sidled up nearer to his face.
Jane watched them silently. She was thinking.
"I just know he'd be good to him," she said to herself. "And Pete likes
him and I don't s'pose Pat's got any pet--but I would miss Pete
awfully."
"Have you got a cat at your house, Pat?" she asked presently.
"No, Mother doesn't like cats very well."
Chicken Little studied about two minutes longer then shut her eyes and
made the leap.
"Pat, would you like to have Pete,--for your very own?"
"Cricky, I should say, but you're not after leaving him behind, are
you?"
"I hate to, but Mother says I'll have lots of pets anyhow at the ranch
and Frank says he'll be a nuisance on the train. You'd be awful good to
him, wouldn't you, Pat?"
Pat nodded eagerly.
"He calls me when he's hungry. You won't ever forget to feed him or let
any of the boys tease him?"
"I'll take the best care I know and Maggie'd love him. She's always
wanted a bird."
"I'll get the cage," said Chicken Little, turning away to hide the tears
that would come.
But they came in spite of her when she gave Pete a parting squeeze.
"He'll never come to any harm if I can help it," vowed Pat, trying to
reassure her, "but I wouldn't be wanting you to give him to me if you
feel so bad."
"Yes, I want to--take him away quick, Pat." She shoved the handle of the
cage into Pat's hand and flew upstairs to have her weep in private.
"It isn't as much fun going away as I thought it would be," she mourned.
That afternoon saw the last dray load of boxes and furniture taken down
to be loaded into the freight car. The trunks were all packed and
strapped and placed by the front door ready to be taken to the station
on the morrow.
Dr. and Mrs. Morton with Ernest and Jane were to spend their last night
with the Halfords. Chicken Little was to sleep in the trundle bed with
Katy and Gertie. It was most exciting to see Mrs. Halford pull it out
from under the big four-poster. It stood about a foot from the floor
and was covered with a blue and white woven coverlid, which Mrs. Halford
said her mother had made for her when she was married.
"I like a trundle bed," said Katy, "because if you roll out, you don't
bump so hard."
"Katy is such a restless child she falls out of bed about once a week,"
laughed Mrs. Halford. "She sleeps all over Gertie. If she tries to take
her third on your side just give her a punch, Jane. I am sorry I have to
crowd you all in together, but I guess you little girls will sleep even
if you are thick."
It seemed doubtful, however, if they would sleep themselves or permit
anyone else to sleep that night. They whispered and tittered far into
the night in spite of warning hushes from Mrs. Halford and sundry raps
on the wall from Dr. Morton's side.
Neighbors and friends had flocked in that evening to say good-by to Dr.
and Mrs. Morton. And the children, though banished upstairs, had kept
tab on the gathering below by dashing to the head of the stairs,
regardless of nighties, every time the bell rang.
When Dick Harding appeared they ducked down modestly behind the
bannisters and yelled at him.
"I thought you were coming to the station tomorrow," Chicken Little
reproached him.
"I am, Miss Morton, wild horses couldn't keep me away, but I wanted to
have a little visit with your father and mother tonight. I will see you
off tomorrow."
Chicken Little was awake early the next morning in spite of their late
hours. The child had been wakeful, partly because she was unused to
sleeping with anyone, partly because the unknown life ahead was
beginning to oppress her vaguely.
Katy and Gertie were still sleeping peacefully so she wriggled out
quietly and dressing herself, slipped over into the dear old yard she
was so soon to leave for good. She took a last swing under the old apple
trees, digging the tips of her toes into the worn place in the sod and
listening to the birds in the branches overhead. There was a little
choke in her throat as she stared at the alley fence, and the fence
corner by the street where the remains of her last play house were still
strewn about. She didn't like this new feeling, and getting out of the
swing, she went over among the flower beds to cheer herself up. There a
riot of autumn blossoms sparkled with dew drops in the early morning
sunshine.
"I'll pick some pansies and mignonette for Mother," she said half aloud,
"she loves them so."
She picked till her hands were full of the purple and yellow and white
flower faces and the fragrant green spikes. Then she laid her cluster
down in the shade and fell to making morning-glory ladies with larkspur
hats to match their gowns. A whistle from the fence disturbed her. She
looked up and saw Pat Casey waving to her.
"I've got something for you."
She went to the fence.
"Hold your skirt," Pat commanded. She did so and Pat dropped in a
handful of big yellow plums.
"I've got a lot more in my pockets," he said as she started to thank
him.
He had. The pockets appeared to be practically bottomless, as Pat hauled
out handful after handful till the skirt of Jane's neat little traveling
dress began to sag dangerously with the weight.
"They aren't much," he said apologetically, "but I wanted to bring you
something. Pete's getting along fine. Mother likes him--she says he'll
be company for Maggie when she's out washing. And Maggie's that happy
you wouldn't believe it. We're awful obliged."
Pat's desire to bring Chicken Little something seemed to be contagious.
Grace Dart caught sight of them out at the fence and ran over bearing a
parting gift.
"I want you to have it, Jane. I cracked the mirror and the lining of the
box is torn a little but the rest's most as good as new. And I truly
think Victoria is the prettiest."
She thrust the remains of the prize toilet set into Chicken Little's
hands with a beaming smile.
Chicken Little entirely forgot that she didn't like Grace Dart.
"I'll write to you soon as we get settled," she promised.
Ernest came to fetch her to breakfast accompanied by Carol and Sherm,
who had whistled for him before he was out of bed. These reinforcements
soon lightened her load of plums and Grace Dart got her a paper bag for
the rest.
Mrs. Halford's fried chicken and hot biscuit and honey were a great
bracer. Chicken Little's teary mood slipped away and she revelled in the
excitement of the good-byes. She promised everybody weekly letters for
the remainder of her natural life.
"You must write to us the very first ones, Jane," Katy demanded.
"I see you young ones are fixing to break me up buying postage stamps,"
remonstrated Dr. Morton, trying to tease them.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Morton about an hour after breakfast, "has
anyone fed Pete. I entirely forgot him last night and this morning. How
could I be so careless?"
"Sure enough, where is Pete?" asked the doctor.
"He--he isn't here," replied Chicken Little. "I gave him away."
"That was nice--Katy and Gertie will take good care of him I know."
"I didn't give him to Katy and Gertie."
"Why--who?" Mrs. Morton looked puzzled.
"I gave him to Pat--when he came for the things."
"Well, I declare," ejaculated Mrs. Morton. "You certainly are the
queerest child! Well, I suppose if you wanted to give your pet to a
little Irish boy instead of to your best friends it's all right."
Katy looked reproachfully at Jane, but Mrs. Halford understood.
"I told you Chicken Little wouldn't give you Pete when you teased him. I
am glad you gave him to Pat, dear. He is a kind boy and the parrot will
mean far more to him than to my little spoiled girls."
"Here comes the expressman for the trunks," said Dr. Morton. "You had
better get your things on, Mother, the bus will soon be here."
Chicken Little danced up and down as the big yellow omnibus backed up to
the front gate and Dick Harding swung off the top, where he had been
sitting beside the driver.
"How many passengers for Kansas?" he demanded.
"We're all going as far as the station if there's room," Mrs. Halford
replied.
It was a merry group that gathered outside the car window. But tears
were close to the smiles, for Marian was leaving father and mother and
Mrs. Morton looked forward with anxiety to the new country and the new
home.
Chicken Little felt blissfully important. Dick Harding had brought her a
box of chocolate creams and gum drops to match Pat's bag of plums. She
waved one in each hand as the train pulled out.
"Good-by, Mr. Harding. Good-by, Katy. Good-by, Gertie."
"Good-by, Chicken Little."
The rattle of the car wheels and the shriek of the engine drowned out
their voices, but Chicken Little watched from the window until they were
all a blur.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's Chicken Little Jane, by Lily Munsell Ritchie