238
The household was awakened in the middle of the night by peals of thunder and the rush of rain against the windows. Chicken Little was drenched before she could get the window down next their bed.
“I don’t care,” she said, as she hunted out a dry gown, “it’s raining and Ernest can go to college.”
They slept late the following morning. The rain was coming down in a steady, business-like way that gladdened the heart of every farmer on the creek. Dr. Morton was jubilant.
“This will save the corn and make thousands of dollars difference in the hay yield in the country,” he remarked at the breakfast table.
“That’s what I don’t like about farming,” said Ernest. “So much depends on things that you can’t239help. A man can work like a dog, and along comes a drouth or chinch bugs or too much rain during the haying season and, presto, all his fond hopes are knocked sky high.”
“Well,” replied his father, “I guess there are mighty few businesses or professions where you don’t have to take chances. By the way, Son, I’m beginning to be afraid your hopes of Annapolis may be disappointed. I don’t understand why Senator Pratt ignores my letter this way.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Father, Captain Clarke heard at the hotel yesterday that Senator Pratt has been seriously ill for several weeks, but they’ve been keeping it quiet. They say he’s just beginning to take up his affairs again.”
“We may hear then in a day or two. I believe I’ll go to town to-day–it’s too wet to do any work.”
The day dragged for the young people indoors. They tried dominoes and authors, but the boys soon found these tame and settled down by themselves to chess as more worthy of a masculine intellect.
The rain ceased and the sun came out about two o’clock. Gertie was in the midst of a letter home, but Katy and Chicken Little hurried outdoors into the moist, fresh air joyfully.
“Let’s go get some of those summer sweetings. I’m hungry for an apple. My, doesn’t the air taste good?” Chicken Little was taking deep breaths.
240They picked their way daintily to avoid the wet weeds and high grass. The sky once more serene, receded in deep bays above the arches of foliage. Every now and then a bird, startled by their coming, flew out from the branches overhead, sending down showers of drops on their hair and shoulders.
They found the sweeting tree and Chicken Little soon had an apron full. It was too wet to linger and they had started back, when Chicken Little stopped still and made a wry face. “Katy Halford, we haven’t fed those pigs!”
“No sir, we haven’t!”
“Say, this would be an awful good time to do it–everything’s so wet, we could loosen one of the stones easy. And I guess they’ll do the rest fast enough.”
“If we don’t give ’em much to eat they’ll want to get out worse.”
The days since Alice’s and Dick’s coming had been so full they had found no opportunity to carry out Jane’s scheme for ridding themselves gracefully of their burdensome boarders. Katy had explained the plan to Gertie, who heartily endorsed it. She went back to the house after her now, while Chicken Little began scouting to see if there were anyone about. The coast seemed clear. Jim Bart had gone to look after the pasture fences, and Marian told her that Ernest and Sherm had taken the wheelbarrow and started to the south field after a load of241watermelons. “They’ll be back in half an hour if you want them for anything, Jane.”
Jane didn’t want them for anything: she merely wanted them safely out of the way.
She sped back to the house. “Hurry, girls, everybody’s gone, and Marian’s putting Jilly to sleep in the bedroom on the other side of the cottage, so she won’t see us. I’ll go get the milk and those pea pods Annie saved.”
Katy and Gertie undertook the feeding, while Chicken Little went to the tool house for pick and spade. The log pig pen was merely one corner of the big hog corral, fenced off for the benefit of the new litters to protect them from the older hogs. Stones had been securely embedded underneath the lowest rail to keep the pigs from burrowing out beneath. Chicken Little went into the corral and inspected these, carefully trying one or two with the pick.
“Here’s one that isn’t very big and it’s loose at one corner. Let’s try it.”
The stone had been put there to stay and did not yield readily. Jane dug till she was tired, then Katy took a hand. Gertie had been posted as a sentinel where she could watch the road.
They strained and tugged, but the stone was obstinate. Jane was getting red in the face.
“The old hateful—I’ll get it out or bust!”
242“Perhaps I can help you, Chicken Little.”
The girls glanced up in dismay. Sherm stood there grinning. He had come back across lots.
“What you trying to do, anyhow? Have your pets been getting out?”
There was nothing to do but take Sherm into their confidence.
“Please promise you won’t tell, Sherm–they’d tease me to death if they know. But we’re sick of those pigs. I never want to lay eyes on a pig again. So we thought we’d just loosen a stone so they could get into the corral with the others and Father’d think they’d dug out themselves. Nobody can ever pick ’em out from the others. They are every bit as big as old Whity’s pigs and Father turned them in two weeks ago.”
Sherm chuckled. “Mum’s the word. Hand over the pick and we’ll do such an artistic job that the porkers themselves will think they are responsible for the whole business. I don’t blame you. That’s not girl’s work!”
The pigs rose to the occasion beautifully. The tiny opening called as loudly as a pile of corn. They continued the excavating so promptly and expeditiously that by the time Dr. Morton returned from town, every piglet had deserted its maternal ancestor and was joyously rooting for itself in the corral.
243“I don’t see how those pigs got out,” said Dr. Morton disgustedly. “I thought that small pen was secure.”
The girls listened attentively.
“They were there at four o’clock, I saw them,” Sherm remarked.
“Oh, I suppose the heavy rain loosened the earth and it was easy rooting.”
“Possibly,” said Sherm.
The incident might have awakened more interest if the Doctor had not returned, bringing a fateful letter. The long-expected letter from Senator Pratt had come. He would be most happy to give Ernest the appointment immediately, if he thought he could pass the mental examinations. An extra examination was to be held on the 30th at Annapolis. He was sending a catalogue and some special literature as to the ground to be covered, by the same mail. He would, however, recommend that Ernest go immediately to some reputable physician and see if he could pass the physical examination. They had a naval surgeon there in Topeka, if he cared to incur the expense of a visit to the Capital.
Ernest was so busy poring over the catalogue that he could hardly be induced to stop long enough to eat his supper.
“I’m more afraid of the mathematics than anything else. I wonder if I couldn’t get Prof. Smith244to coach me. I could study all week and go in Saturdays to recite.”
“The first thing to do is to get that doctor’s certificate. We’ll go to town to-morrow and have Dr. Hardy look you over, and if he doesn’t find anything suspicious, we’ll run down to Topeka to see the surgeon and call on the senator at the same time. I think I could go Monday.”
The entire family held its breath or at least tried to, for the next few days. Mrs. Morton quite forgot how badly she had wanted Ernest to have an education, when she learned that he could only come home once a year, and then only for a short month. She sighed so much and was so distraught, that the family were almost afraid to rejoice with Ernest, when he came home jubilantly waving his physician’s certificate.
“Never mind, Mother, that surgeon may send me packing. Don’t worry till you are sure I’m going. Even if I am vouched for as up to the scratch physically, I may flunk, alas! Wouldn’t that be nice after Father had put up a lot of money to send me on? You’d be ashamed of me, Mother, you wouldn’t want to see me come home.”
“I am not expecting you to fail, son,” said Dr. Morton, “though I wish we could have arranged matters sooner to give you more time for review. But with the exception of a little extra mathematics,245the requirements are certainly no worse than for college entrance exams. And you’ve tested yourself out twice on those. Aren’t you glad I insisted on more geometry?”
“He doesn’t need to come home if he does fail. He can visit some of our friends in Centerville till college opens. It would only be a few days,” Frank consoled him. “However, I am not expecting you to fail, old boy. I have always flattered myself that the Morton family are not lacking in brains, and you know how to study.”
“I most wish he would fail so he could come to see us. Mother would love to have him spend the Christmas vacations with us,” put in Katy naïvely.
“Thank you, Katy, I’d enjoy nothing better, but I’ve kinder set my heart on showing this naval outfit that a wild and woolly Kansan can measure up with some of those down-easters.”
The naval surgeon confirmed Dr. Hardy’s judgment. The senator had been cordial, and after some questioning, said he would send Ernest’s name to the department immediately. He also gave him some helpful suggestions as to what subjects to put the emphasis on.
Two weeks seemed a pretty short time for preparation. Ernest thanked his lucky star that he had done a little studying through the summer in preparation for his college entrance, and was not rusty.246The entire family waited on him and followed him round till Frank declared they would ruin the boy, if he didn’t get off soon. Chicken Little sadly neglected her guests whenever it was possible to hang round Ernest. But Ernest was so busy, she seldom had a word alone with him. The two were very dear to each other despite their occasional bickering, and Chicken Little was almost jealous of every one who came near him during those last few days.
“Ernest,” said his father the Saturday before his departure, “will you take one farewell turn at herding to-morrow? Jim Bart wants to get off for the day and I’d like to have the cattle clean off that stubble field. I think I will plow early and put it in winter wheat this year. I have promised to drive Mother and the girls to town to church in the morning. We are to have dinner with the parson and won’t be home until evening.”
That evening Ernest overtook Chicken Little coming up from the spring with the butter and cream.
“Say, Sis, don’t you want to stay home and help me herd to-morrow? The girls wouldn’t mind this once.”
“Oh, I’d love it. We just haven’t had a good talk for ages–but I don’t know what Mother’ll say.”
“I’ll fix Mother,” he answered confidently.
Later, he whispered: “It’s all O. K.”
“Gee, I guess Mother’d give you the moon if she247could, she feels so bad about having you go so far away.”
“Poor Mother, it’s mighty rough on her out here on the ranch. Say, Sis, I don’t mind if you want to wear some of my old truck to-day–we’ll just be down in the field and your riding skirt will be a nuisance in among the cattle.”
This was a mighty concession for Ernest, who had a considerable share of his mother’s respect for the conventions. Chicken Little appreciated it.
She reached up and gave him a big hug.
“It’s going to be awful hard to have you go, Ernest.”
Ernest didn’t say anything in reply, but he squeezed his young sister tight, as if he were realizing himself that he was about to miss something precious from his life.
The two were up early the next morning and off with the herd before the rest of the family were fairly through breakfast. Sherm was going in with the others to church. Annie had put up a lunch for Ernest and Jane; they did not expect to get back to the house until late afternoon.
The day was an August masterpiece, warm, but not too warm, with a fresh breeze blowing and shreds of blue haze lingering over the timber along the creek.
“It has almost a fall feel,” said Chicken Little.
248A brisk half-hour’s work, in which Huz and Buz took an active part, hindering rather more than helping in the cattle driving, was sufficient to transfer the herd from the pasture to the stubble field. Chicken Little was thankful she had discarded her skirt, for they had many a chase after refractory animals through the timber and underbrush. Calico and Caliph, being mustangs, seemed to enjoy the sport as much as their riders.
“Cricky, Caliph is almost human when it comes to heading off a steer, and he’s never done much cattle driving either. He must have inherited the range instinct.”
“Humph, what about Calico?” retorted Jane. “He turned that roan Father always says is so mean, three times.”
The cattle scattered over the stubble eagerly. Ernest picketed the ponies so they could graze after their good work and he and Chicken Little threw themselves down under a red bud tree near the edge of the field to rest.
“They won’t stray much till they get their stomachs full,” said Ernest, “and that won’t be before afternoon. I brought a book along–Cooper’s ‘Naval History.’ It’s great, though Father says it’s better romance than history. Do you mind if I read you a bit?”
Chicken Little backed up against a tree and settled249herself comfortably and they were soon fighting with Paul Jones, so utterly absorbed that the herd had drifted down to the farther end of the field before they realized it. A half dozen adventurous beasts were already disappearing into the timber, apparently headed for the Captain’s cornfield, which lay just beyond the creek.
“The pesky brutes! Why can’t they be content with a good square meal at home?” Ernest hated to be interrupted.
“Perhaps they like to go visiting as much as we do. Besides, they don’t often have a chance at green corn.”
It took some time to recover the truants. By the time they were settled once more under the tree, the sun was nearing the zenith and they were growing hungry.
“It’s only half past eleven, but I’m starved. Let’s eat now.” Ernest eyed the packet of luncheon hungrily.
“All right, go fill the water jug, and I’ll get it out.”
After lunch they read for awhile, but, presently, the sun seemed to grow hotter and they commenced to feel drowsy. They decided to take turns watching the cattle and napping. The cattle also seemed to feel the heat and were hunting patches of shade, lying down to chew their cuds contentedly. The250air seemed palpitating with the incessant humming and whirring of insects. Bees, and white and yellow butterflies flittered in a mat of weeds and wild blackberry vines, which had entirely covered an angle of the old rail fence near them.
Ernest’s nap was a long one. The boy had been studying hard for his examinations and was thoroughly tired. He was lying on his side, his face resting on his hand, and his old straw hat drawn over his face to keep off the flies. But the nagging insects soon discovered his neck and hands. Chicken Little fished his bandanna out of his pocket to protect his neck, covering the hand that lay on the grass with her own handkerchief.
He woke at length with a start, smiling up at Chicken Little when he discovered the handkerchiefs.
“Thank you, Sis. Whew, I must have slept for keeps,” he added, glancing at the sun. “It’s four o’clock. The folks will be along about six.”
He sat up and took a survey of the field. The cattle were all quiet. Chicken Little was braiding little baskets with a handful of cat tail leaves she had brought from the slough. Ernest reached over and patted the busy fingers.
“Sis, I’m mighty fond of you–do you know it?”
Chicken Little looked up at him affectionately. “I suspected it, Ernest,” she answered demurely.
251The boy was going on with his own thoughts. “I’m mighty glad to get away from the ranch. I don’t believe I’m cut out for this sort of thing. Guess, maybe, I’m not democratic enough–you remember that party at Jenkins’? Well, I’ve been thinking about it a good deal since. I guess Sherm sort of set me to thinking with his fuss about the kissing games. At any rate, I’ve made up my mind I don’t intend to be like any of the boys on this creek, and I don’t propose that you shall be like any of the girls if I can help it. It isn’t that they aren’t smart enough and good enough. The people round here are mighty touchy about one person’s being just as good as another. Maybe one person is born just as good as anybody else, but, thank goodness, they don’t all stay alike. I mayn’t be any better than the Craft boys, but I know I’m a sight cleaner, and I don’t murder the king’s English quite every other word, and I know enough to be polite to a lady. And if I take the trouble to make myself decent, and they don’t, I don’t see any reason why I should be expected to pretend they’re as good as I am.”
Ernest was waxing wroth. The insistent equality of the Creek was on his nerves.
“I don’t care if people do think I’m stuck up–I’m going to try to associate with the kind of people I like. It isn’t money–it’s just nice living. If it wasn’t for people like the Captain and one or two252others we’d forget what lady and gentleman meant. And that isn’t saying that there aren’t lots of good kind people on the Creek, too. But they’re so dead satisfied with themselves the way they are–they don’t seem to know there is any better way to live.”
Chicken Little was listening eagerly.
“I know what you mean. Lots of it’s little things. I noticed that night at the Jenkins’. Mamie’s prettier than me and the boys like her better, but I don’t want to be like her all the same.”
“I should think not, Chicken Little, and you needn’t worry. You’re nothing but a kid yet, but by the time you’re eighteen, Mamie Jenkins won’t hold a candle to you. And while I think of it, Sis, the less you see of Mamie the better. And I don’t want you playing any more kissing games–you’re too big.”
“Humph, you just said I was nothing but a kid. You’re as bad as Mother.”
Ernest was not to be diverted. “None of your dodging. I want you to promise me you won’t.”
Chicken Little considered.
“It isn’t that I want to play them,” she argued, “but if I don’t, I’ll have to sit and look on and all the old folks’ll ask me if I’m not well, and the girls’ll say I’m stuck up. It wasn’t as easy as you seem to think, Ernest Morton, but I’ll promise, if you’ll promise not to kiss any girl while you’re gone.”
253“Nonsense, Jane, you don’t understand. It’s different with a boy.”
Chicken Little fixed her brown eyes upon Ernest’s face musingly.
“How is it different?”
“Chicken Little Jane Morton, haven’t you had any raising? You know as well as I do it isn’t nice for a girl to let boys kiss her.”
Chicken Little considered. “You needn’t be so toploftical; girls don’t want most boys to kiss ’em.”
“Most?”
“That’s what I said. I hated it when Grant kissed me at Mamie’s party, but I don’t know that I’d mind if Sherm—”
She got no further. Ernest bristled with brotherly indignation.
“Has Sherm ever—”
“Of course not, Sherm wouldn’t! I guess it’s because I know he wouldn’t, that I shouldn’t much mind if he did.”
Chicken Little said this soberly, but her face grew a little red.
Ernest’s brotherly eyes were observant.
“Oh, Sherm’s all right, but Sis, I want that promise.”
“I told you I’d promise if you would.” Chicken Little drew her lips together in a firm way.
“But I can’t–it would be silly–I might look254ridiculous sometime if I refused. The fellows would guy me if they knew I made such a promise.”
“Well, I just told you they’d guy me if I refused to do what the others do.”
“But, Chicken Little, it isn’t nice.”
“I guess I know that as well as you do. And I don’t know that I shall ever play that kind of games again, but I’m not going to promise if you won’t. Boys don’t need to think they can do everything they want to, just because they’re boys. You don’t want anybody to kiss me, but I’d like to know how you are going to kiss a girl without making somebody else’s sister do something that isn’t nice, Ernest Morton.”
The discussion ended there. Ernest was not very worldly wise himself, and Chicken Little’s reasoning was certainly logical.
They had but little time to talk after that. The cattle began to roam restlessly once more and they were in the saddle pretty constantly for the remainder of the afternoon.
Ernest took the trouble to lift her down from Calico when they reached the stable that evening, an unusual attention. He also gave her a shy kiss on the cheek and whispered: “I’ll promise, Sis. I don’t know but you are about half right.”
255
“Golly, I sha’n’t have any fingers left by the time I finish this needle case! King’s excuse, Katy, you needn’t mind. I know I said it, but if you tried to push a needle through this awful leather and pricked yourself every other stitch you’d say Golly, too.” Chicken Little edged off as she saw Katy approaching.
Katy was not to be deterred. “You said to pinch you every single time, Jane Morton, and you’ve said it twice. Besides, your mother said she hoped I could cure you.” Katy gave Chicken Little’s arm two vigorous pinches to emphasize this statement.
Chicken Little did not take this kindly office in the spirit in which it was intended. She hated to sew and she had been toiling all morning on a little bronze leather case to hold needles, buttons, and pins–a parting gift to Ernest.
256“Katy Halford, I told you not to! I think you are real mean to do it when I’m having such a hard time. I’ll thank you not to any more, if I do say it.”
“You don’t need to go and get mad! You told me to.”
“Yes, and I just now told you not to!”
“I guess you’d say King’s excuse every time if I’d let you. A lot of good it’s going to do, if you sneak out of it whenever you want to.”
“I don’t sneak out of it–this is the very first time, and you know it!”
“I don’t know any such thing, but I don’t think it’s very good manners to be telling your guests they’re saying something that isn’t so! The day before they’re going home, too!” Katy forgot the dignity of her fifteen years.
“Well, I think it’s quite as good manners as to tell your friends they’re sneaks!” Jane’s tone was icy.
Gertie came between the belligerents. “Please don’t quarrel, girls. It’d be dreadful the very last day, after we have had such a beautiful summer. I never did have such a good time in all my life. I most wish I could live on a ranch always.”
“I shouldn’t like to live on a ranch, but we have had a jolly time, Chicken Little,” Katy recovered herself enough to say graciously.
257Chicken Little was not to be outdone. “I suppose I was ugly, Katy. It always makes me cross to sew. I wish nobody had ever invented needles. O dear, I shall be as lonesome as pie when you are gone. It isn’t much fun being the only girl on the ranch, I tell you. Sometimes, I don’t even see another girl for weeks.”
“But your school begins soon, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, and I’ll have Sherm. I just don’t believe I could bear to have Ernest go if Sherm wasn’t going to stay.”
“I’m awful glad Mr. Lenox put off coming for another day so we can go on the same train with Ernest.” Katy had been exulting over this for the past twenty-four hours.
“Ernest will be on the train for three days. I feel as if he would be as far away as if he were going to China.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Morton’s entrance.
“Would you rather have chocolate or cocoanut cake for your lunch, girls? Annie has killed three chickens, and I thought you could take a basket of those big yellow peaches; I only wish I could send some to your mother. And I’ll put in cheese and cold-boiled ham and a glass of current jelly. Mr. Lenox may want to get a meal or two at the stations, but you are so hurried at these–and it’s always well258to have plenty of lunch in traveling. Dr. Morton told Ernest that he’d better get all his breakfasts at the eating houses to have something hot. And by the third day his lunch will be too stale–even if there is any left.”
Ernest was creepy with excitement between joy at going and his haunting fear that he might disgrace the family by failing to pass the examinations.
“Buck up, old chap,” Frank admonished, “you’ve got facts enough in your head if you can only get them out at the right time. My advice is to forget all about exams and enjoy your trip. One doesn’t go to Washington and Baltimore every day. You ought to have several hours in St. Louis if your train is on time. Be sure to eat three square meals every day and keep yourself as fresh as you can and I’ll back you to pass any fair test.”
“If you have time in St. Louis I want you to be sure to go and see Shaw’s Gardens. They used to be wonderful and they must have been greatly improved since I saw them,” said Mrs. Morton.
Each individual member of the Morton family, except Jilly and Huz and Buz, took Ernest aside for a parting chat with advice and remembrances. Jilly and the dogs secured their share by getting in the way as often as possible.
Chicken Little had her turn first. She tendered the needle case doubtfully.
259“Mother said you would have to sew on your own buttons at the Academy and that you’d find this mighty handy, but I’d loathe to have anybody give me such a present. And, Ernest, here’s the five dollars I got last birthday. You take it and buy something you really want.”
Ernest demurred about accepting the money, but Jane insisted.
“Little Sis, you’re sure a dear—” Ernest found himself choking up most unaccountably. He gave her a good old-fashioned hug in conclusion to save himself the embarrassment of words.
Dr. Morton took his son into the parlor and closed the door immediately after dinner. They stayed an hour, during which time the Doctor gave Ernest much practical advice about his conduct and sundry warnings not to be extravagant or careless in handling his money. No sooner had they emerged, Ernest looking important and rather dazed, when his mother laid her hand upon his arm, saying: “My son, I also wish to have a little talk with you. We shall be hurried in the morning so perhaps we would better have it now.”
Ernest returned to the parlor with his mother. Chicken Little lay in wait outside in the hall. She and Katy had a beautiful plan for a last boat ride that afternoon. She knew Ernest would be going over to say good-bye to the Captain anyway.
260Chicken Little waited and yawned and waited and squirmed for a solid hour and a quarter. The steady hum of her mother’s voice was interrupted occasionally by brief replies from Ernest. At last, Chicken Little heard a movement and roused herself joyously. But her mother began to speak again–this time with reverent solemnity. Chicken Little forgot herself and listened a moment.
“Umn, I guess she’s praying–they must be most through. Golly, I bet Ernest’s tired!”
When the door opened a moment later there were tears on Mrs. Morton’s lashes and Ernest looked sober. He held a handsome Oxford bible in his hand. Mrs. Morton glanced at Jane suspiciously, but passed on into the sitting room.
Chicken Little surveyed her brother wickedly.
“Did Mother give you a new bible?”
“Yep.”
“I thought you had one.”
“Got two–Mother forgot, I s’pose.”
“Bet you’d rather have had a new satchel–that bible must have cost a lot.”
“Yes, I would, but don’t you dare let on to Mother. I wouldn’t hurt her feelings for a farm! She’s awful good, but she doesn’t understand how a fellow feels about things. I’d rather be licked any day than prayed over. I guess if I attended all the ‘means of grace’ she wants me to, I wouldn’t have261any time left for lessons. I’m going to try all-fired hard not to do anything to hurt Mother or make her ashamed of me, but I’m not calculating to wear out the pews at prayer meetings–not so you’d notice it.” Ernest grinned at Chicken Little defiantly.
Jane replied soberly:
“A prayer meeting’s a real treat to Mother. She hasn’t had a chance to go to one for so long she is just pining for the privilege, but I bet she didn’t feel that way when she was young! But she thinks she did, so there’s no use fussing.”
Marian’s admonition to Ernest was brief and to the point. She stood him up against the wall and looked him so squarely in the eyes that she could see her own reflection in the pupils. Ernest’s six feet of vigorous youth was good to look at. His hazel eyes gazed back at her steadfastly. Marian smiled up at him.
“Ernest Morton, I’m downright proud to be your sister, and if you can look me in the eye as fearlessly and unashamed when you come home, I shall be still prouder. I want to tell you something I overheard in a store the other day about Father. Some men were evidently discussing him in connection with a business deal, and one remarked emphatically: ‘Old man Morton may have his weaknesses like the rest of us humans, but his word’s as good as his bond any day, and there’s precious few men you can say262that of.’ It’s worth while to have that sort of a father, Ernest, but it makes the Morton name somewhat of a responsibility to live up to, doesn’t it?”
Marian gave him a pat and pulled his head down to kiss him.
Katy and Gertie had been busy all day with their own preparations for departure. Marian was helping them with their packing, because Mrs. Morton had her hands full with the lunch and Ernest’s clothes and trunk. Chicken Little vibrated between the two centers of interest. Jilly also assisted, contributing articles of her own when she caught the spirit of packing. Her mother rescued a cake of soap and one of her shoes, but after Katy and Gertie arrived at home, they discovered one of Jilly’s nighties reposing on top of their Sunday hats and her rag doll neatly wedged in a corner of their trunk. Ernest was not overlooked either. When he unpacked at Annapolis, his recently acquired New York roommate was decidedly amazed to see him draw forth a small, pink stocking from the upper tray and a little later, a soiled woolly sheep along with his shirts. Ernest found his explanations about a baby niece received rather incredulously until a choice packet containing half a doughnut, a much-mutilated peach, two green apples, and a mud pie appeared. Jilly had evidently prepared a lunch for her uncle. They both went off into rumbles of mirth over this remarkable263exhibit and began a friendship which was destined to be enduring.
Jane’s boat ride scheme found favor, but Mrs. Morton declared they must put it off till after supper. They drove over and found the Captain smoking contentedly on the veranda.
“I was hoping you young people would come to-night,” he said, “though I intended going to the train to see you off in any event. I shall miss these young ladies sadly, and Ernest seems to belong to me a little, now that he has decided to be a sailor, too.”
“If I get in, I shall owe it to you, for I should never have thought of Annapolis if you hadn’t suggested it,” Ernest replied.
“Well, I trust I have not influenced you to a decision you will some day regret. You seem to me to have many of the qualifications for a naval officer.”
“Do you think he is sufficiently qualified to row theChicken Little, Captain Clarke?” asked Jane suggestively.
The Captain’s eyes twinkled. “If he isn’t, I think Sherm is. We might let the one who gets there first prove his skill.”
The boys were not slow in acting upon this hint. They sprinted their best without waiting for a starter, and reached the skiff so exactly together that the question of precedence was still unsettled. The264boys did not wait for an umpire. Ernest untied the boat and both attempted to fling themselves in with disastrous results. TheChicken Littlehad not been built for wrestling purposes. She tipped sufficiently to spill both boys into the creek. The water was shallow, but Sherm was wet well up to the waist, and Ernest, who had been pitched still farther out, was soaked from head to foot. They appeared ludicrously surprised and sheepish.
The girls and the Captain laughed most unfeelingly. But Chicken Little immediately began to consider the consequences.
“Poor Mother, she’ll have to dry that suit out and press it before it can be packed. It’s a blessed thing you didn’t wear your new suit as you wanted to, Ernest Morton.”
“My, but you are wet!” exclaimed Katy. “Oughtn’t you to go right home and change?”
“Come with me into the house, boys. I think Wing and I can fix you up.” The Captain cut a laugh in the middle to offer aid.
The lads were so ludicrously crestfallen; they were doubly comical.
Wing, fortunately, had a good fire in the kitchen and soon had their wet garments steaming before it, while the Captain hunted out dry clothes for them. Some spirit of mischief prompted him to array Ernest in an old uniform of his own, with amazing265results, for Ernest was considerably slimmer than the older man, and fully two inches taller. The ample blue coat with its gold braid hung on him as on a clothes rack. The sleeves were so short they left a generous expanse of wrist in view, and the trousers struck him well above the ankle.
The Captain saluted him ceremoniously, chuckling at the boy’s absurd appearance. The girls were openly hilarious.
Chicken Little struck an attitude. “Behold the future admiral! Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce Admiral Morton, of whose distinguished exploits you have often heard. His recent feat of capsizing the enemy’s frigate single-handed, has never been equalled in the annals of our glorious navy.”
She was not permitted to finish this speech undisturbed. Ernest had chased her half way round the house before she got the last words out.
He clapped his hand firmly over her mouth to restrain her from further eloquence.
Jane struggled helplessly. “Katy–say, Katy, come–help—”
Katy, nothing loath, flung herself on Ernest from the rear and the three had a joyous tussle, with honors on the side of the future admiral, till Sherm, who had been a little slower in dressing than Ernest, came out the front door.
266Jane called to him despite the restraining hand and her shortening breath: “Sherm, he’s choking me—”
“Choking nothing–it’s Katy who is choking me–just wait till I get hold of you, Miss Halford!”
Katy had both hands gripped fairly on his coat collar and was tugging Ernest backward with all her might, while Chicken Little struggled to get away.
“Come help,–Sherm, please!” Chicken Little loosened herself from the gagging hand enough to plead again.
“Keep out, Sherm. Three against one is no fair.”
Sherm watched the fray a moment, undecided.
“You may have bigger odds than that, Ernest,” laughed the Captain. “You might as well be getting your hand in.”
Sherm sauntered leisurely over and helped Chicken Little wrench loose, then, whispering something hastily, took her by the hand and they both made for the creek.
Ernest, relieved of his sister, swung quickly round, catching Katy by the shoulders before she could save herself.
“I’ve a mind to—” At this moment he detected Sherm’s game. “No, you don’t, smarties!”
Katy likewise saw and acted even more quickly than Ernest. She was very light and swift, and she267darted past Sherm and Chicken Little like a flash, reaching the boat twenty seconds ahead.
“Come on, Ernest!” She slipped the rope deftly from the post, not waiting to untie it, and, pushing off, leaped lightly into the row boat.
Ernest needed no second invitation. Katy motioned to him to run farther along the bank and paddled the skiff in close enough for him to climb on board. Sherm and Chicken Little, dazed by the suddenness of this maneuver, were still some feet away.
“Katy Halford, you’re a pretty one to go back on your own side that way,” Jane scolded.
“Katy, I didn’t think it of you–after asking me to come and help you, too!” Sherm was also reproachful.
“I didn’t ask you, Sherman Dart. It was Chicken Little.”
“Of course,” Ernest encouraged. “Katy’s been on my side all the time. Haven’t you, Katy?”
Katy nodded, laughing.
The Captain, who had followed the young people at a more sober gait, smiled at this outcome of the skirmish.
“When a woman will she will, you may depend upon it,” he quoted. “The trouble is to find out what she wills.”
Ernest, secure in the rower’s seat, could afford to268be generous. He brought the boat in and took them all on board. Gertie had been a quiet spectator of the frolic. She had little taste for boisterous fun.
Captain Clarke handed her in with a flourish. “Gertie is my partner.”
Sherm had his revenge. Ernest rowed energetically–so energetically that he was tired enough to be willing to resign the oars before a half hour had gone by. Under the circumstances he did not quite like to ask Sherm to relieve him. Sherm seemed to be oblivious to the fact that it required energy to propel the boat. He was strumming an imaginary banjo as an accompaniment to the familiar melodies the girls were softly singing, occasionally joining in himself. Katy did not fail to observe that Ernest dropped one of his oars to regard a blister ruefully, and she did her best to help.
“Say, Ernest, let me try one oar. I believe I could row with you if you would take shorter strokes.”
Ernest hadn’t much faith in Katy’s skill, but the experiment gave him an excuse to rest a minute. He moved over and handed her the oar with a little smile of gratitude.
“You’re a trump, Katy,” he whispered.
Darkness dropped softly in the timber. They heard a distant splash where a muskrat had taken to the water. Every one wished solemnly by the evening star. And two of the wishes came true in record269time. The Captain wished that he might find the son so long lost to him. Katy wished–she didn’t quite put the wish into words–but she did want Ernest to have what he wanted. One by one the other stars twinkled forth and the darkness deepened till their faces were dim, white blurs, and the girls’ pink-and-blue dresses faded into patches of dusk in the blackness. Fireflies winked in the gloom. At the Captain’s suggestion, Katy and Ernest rested on their oars. They stopped singing and listened to the night’s silences–silences broken by rustling movements from a thicket on the farther bank or by eery creakings of the branches overhead. The little group felt vaguely the bigness of things, though no one but the Captain knew exactly why.
It was ten o’clock before they went back to the house. Wing had performed a miracle in the meantime; the boy’s suits were not only dried, but neatly pressed.
Mrs. Morton let them all sleep late the next morning in view of the long journey ahead for Ernest and the girls.
Poor Sherm found this last day trying. His father’s health was not improving and a fear lay close in his heart that he should never see him again. It was almost more than he could bear to hear the girls talk about going home. He eased the ache by keeping at work. Dr. Morton had already initiated270him into Ernest’s duties. The others were too busy to think much about Sherm but Chicken Little, who sat beside him at the table, noticed that he scarcely tasted his dinner. She started to remark about it, but a glance at Sherm’s drawn face warned her in time.
Presently, she had a gracious thought. “Sherm, let’s ride Caliph and Calico in to the train, then the others won’t be so crowded and Marian and Jilly can go, too.”
Sherm somehow felt better immediately. The brisk gallop they took at starting helped still more. Sunflowers and golden rod lined the roadside for miles; brown cat tails nodded above the swales. A bobolink, swaying on a weed stalk near by, answered Sherm’s chirrup to the ponies with a volley of golden notes.
“Chicken Little,” he remarked, apropos of nothing, after they had ridden a few miles, “you are a mighty comfortable person to have ’round.”
“Maybe you won’t think so in a day or two. I shall be so lonesome I may be tempted to follow you about like Huz and Buz.”
“You can’t scare me that way, Chicken Little, I think the ranch is going to be a pretty loose fit for all of us for a few days. But your school begins about the middle of September, doesn’t it? That will help.”
271“Yes, I wish you were going to school, too. Say, Sherm, why couldn’t you arrange to take one or two special studies under the new teacher? They say he only lacks one year of graduating from college and knows a lot. He’s teaching to save the money for his last year. Perhaps you might take some of your freshman work.”
“I wish I could–I hate to get behind the rest of the boys. But your father is hiring me to work, not to study.”
“I know, but when winter comes you won’t need to work all the time, and you’ll have all your evenings–Jim Bart does.”
“If I could only keep up my mathematics and Latin, I wouldn’t be losing so much.” Sherm was considering.
The nine-mile ride to town seemed shorter than usual to most of the party that afternoon. Ernest, in spite of his joy in actually going away to school, found home and home folk unexpectedly dear now that he was leaving them for many months. Poor Mrs. Morton could hardly tear her eyes from the son who was taking his first step away from her. Chicken Little was feeling disturbingly sober; no Ernest, no Katy, no Gertie–how could she ever stand it?
“Sherm, if I start to cry, just wink, will you–that funny way you do sometimes. Ernest bet I272would–and I won’t, but I know I’m going to want to dreadfully.”
Chicken Little was as good as her word. She didn’t–that is, as long as Ernest could see her. She kissed him good-bye and gave him a playful box on the ear. She threw kisses, smiling as the group at the car window slid by, then the lump in her throat grew startlingly bigger.
“Race you to the horses, Chicken Little,” said Sherm. “If it’s all right with you, Mrs. Morton, we’ll go straight home.”
Chicken Little raced with Sherm and with her tears. She beat Sherm but the tears won out. She could hardly see to untie Calico’s rein. Sherm took the strap out of her hand, fastened it, and swung her up.
“Shut your eyes and open your mouth,” he commanded, as soon as she was securely seated.
Jane obeyed meekly and Sherm popped a big chocolate drop in.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, smiling through the trickling tears, “was that what you stopped down town for? My, what a baby you must think me!”
Sherm reached over and patted her hand. “I think you are several pumpkins and some squash, Chicken Little. Have another?”