Chicken Little Jane Part 26

"If he had to turn out just once would it help Mr. Harding?" demanded Jane.

Her own party were so intent upon the race that no one replied, but Pat, who had just skated up, answered her question himself when he found the others were ignoring it.

"It'd help--but sure Mr. Harding's too grand a gentleman to do that kind of dirty work!"

"Oh, I just wish we could make him turn out!"

No one heeded her but Pat and he replied only with a grin.

Chicken Little clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. The men had made their last turn and were heading swiftly toward them on the home stretch. Harding had gained a little on his antagonist and was scarcely three feet behind.

"He is gaining--if Sanders will only play fair!" said Frank tensely, his eyes glued on the two dark forms.

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Sanders made a feint to cross directly in front of his compet.i.tor and Harding lost a length in consequence.

"Confound him!" growled Frank, "the judges oughtn't to stand for that!"

Chicken Little stood fascinated, gazing at the advancing figures.

Her small fists clenched as she saw Harding drop the few paces behind.

Suddenly an idea popped into her head. Forgetful of her own uncertain feet, and both ignorant and reckless of any danger, she darted forward, a small red danger signal directly in front of Mr. Sanders as he came opposite. The annoyed racer swerved quickly to the right, but poor Jane once started could not stop, and would have fallen a scarlet heap in d.i.c.k Harding's path had not Pat, divining her intention, followed swiftly and grabbing her by the shoulder steered her in a sharp curve out of the way. She got a good scolding from both Frank and Marian when Pat brought her back to them.

"You might have been hurt--you almost spoiled the race--don't you ever do anything so foolhardy again, Jane." This from Marian.

Frank was still more severe. "I'm ashamed of you, Sis. Did you suppose d.i.c.k Harding would be willing to win the race by a trick--besides you nearly tripped him. If Pat hadn't been so quick there would have been a bad mix-up."

Chicken Little scarcely heeded at first because from the far end of the pond a shout went up, and looking with wide eyes, she saw the dark stranger and Mr. Harding slip over the line together--it was a tie!

Then Frank's words began to sink in. The idea that she might have hurt or disgraced her beloved Mr. Harding frightened her much more than the possible danger to herself. Her eyes filled with tears and though she tried valiantly to wink them away, they soon overflowed.

Katy and Gertie eyed her curiously, and Frank and Marian though they felt sorry for the child, felt that she needed a lesson. Ernest returning from the finish, felt called upon to rub it in still further.

"What in the d.i.c.kens were you trying to do, Jane Morton, were you crazy?"

Chicken Little answered never a word, but the tears dripped faster and an observing person would have noticed that the child was digging her finger nails into her palms to keep back the sobs. But her family was too disgusted with her to be either sympathetic or observing. They scarcely noticed that she was loitering behind.

She had no definite purpose till she saw they were about to pa.s.s d.i.c.k Harding who was the center of an admiring group. This was more than she could stand, and dropping a little farther behind, she slipped into the crowd and started off in the opposite direction. No one missed her for a time as they all stopped to congratulate d.i.c.k. It was not until he inquired what the child had been trying to do in her reckless dash, that her absence was discovered.

"Oh, Frank, I am afraid we were too hard on her!" exclaimed Marian.

Frank himself looked anxious for it was fast growing dusk. He scanned the thinning crowd on the pond sharply--no little red figure was to be seen.

"She can't have gone far!" he said now genuinely alarmed.

"Marian, you go on home with the children and I'll find her."

"Let me go with you--poor little girlie she was trying her small best to help me." Harding was scanning the pond narrowly as he spoke.

"I believe she must be behind that big tree across there. She could hardly have got completely out of sight any place else."

d.i.c.k Harding fastened on his skates and hurried across the pond to a big oak, which stood flanked by a clump of bushes close to the edge of the bank.

Sure enough, Chicken Little had flung herself down in the snow behind the tree, and was sobbing her heart out. He lifted her tenderly.

"Dear me, little friend, this won't do--where's my little champion who tried to help me win the race just now?"

Chicken Little hushed her sobs in astonishment.

"Frank said--he said--he----" the tears were coming again, "he said I'd disgraced you and I didn't think--you'd ever speak to me again!"

"Nonsense, Jane, listen to me. I am proud and happy that you wanted to help me--it wasn't the best way to do it, but you didn't know. Now come, dry your tears and let's hurry back to the others--they thought they'd lost you."

"And you aren't ashamed of me?"

"Ashamed of you? Bless your heart, I am proud to have such a staunch friend."

CHAPTER XI

CHICKEN LITTLE JANE'S BIRTHDAY

February was birthday month in the Morton family. Jane's came first on the thirteenth, Ernest's on the twenty-second, and Mrs. Morton came near having a birthday only once in four years, for hers was on the twenty-eighth.

"My, I'd hate to be born on the thirteenth. Cousin May says thirteen is awfully unlucky," said Katy impressively, when Chicken Little told her the fateful date.

"Yes, but you see I was born on Sunday, too, and Sunday's the very luckiest day there is to be born on."

"Yes, Jane, 'Blithe and bonny and good and gay, is the child who is born on the Sabbath day,'" chanted Marian, who was sitting by the window sewing. "You have something to live up to, little sister, if you are all that."

"I'm glad my birthday isn't coming on Sunday this year," said Jane thoughtfully. "It did one year and I couldn't have a party or nothing. I do think Sunday is the inconvenientest day--I wish G.o.d hadn't ever thought to make it!"

"But we need one day of rest," said Marian, struggling with a laugh.

"Ye--es, but I think we get enough rest sleeping nights; I think Sundays are awful tiring,--you have to work so hard remembering what you can't do."

"I like Sundays," said Gertie, "'cause Father's home and he reads to us Sunday afternoons."

"Father takes a nap, you can hear him all over the house--and Mother tells us to be quiet so we won't wake him. 'Sides your mother lets you do more things."

"I guess your folks are religiouser than ours," said Katy complacently.

"You think it is more religious to sleep Sunday afternoons, Katy?"

interposed Marian smiling.

"Well, you can't do anything bad when you are asleep," replied Katy a little confused, but bound to stick to her point.