Part 17 (1/2)
Chicken Little thought she could. d.i.c.k Harding gave her as explicit directions as he dared as to what she should say and what she should not say.
”Remember,” he added, ”not a word of this to anybody--especially to Alice.”
”I've probably got the youngster all mixed up with my fool directions, but I believe she might make an impression on the uncle, if she can only write as she talks. Bless her tender heart. Alice has one loyal friend if she is small,” he said to himself, unconsciously echoing Dr. Morton's words.
Jane left Alice's flowers in the entry while she delivered the letter to her mother, but she displayed her own tiny bouquet proudly.
”See what Mr. Harding gave me!”
”Mr. Harding is very kind. Was that what made you so late?”
”Yes, we stopped at the greenhouse to get them only I didn't know he was going to get them--he just asked me did I think you would mind if I went in there with him?”
”Well, that was very nice--run along--I want to read my letter.”
Chicken Little hurried away to take Alice her flowers.
”For me--really?” demanded Alice: ”Who sent them?”
”He asked me would I give them to you with d.i.c.k Harding's compliments.”
The telltale ”he” brought a flush to Alice's face and the ”d.i.c.k Harding”
deepened it. Alice buried her face in the fragrant posy to hide her embarra.s.sment.
”Did he say anything else, Jane?”
”Yes, he said a lot. He asked me how you were and how Mamma was and if we'd heard from Frank and Marian. He asked a lot about you----” Chicken Little caught herself just in time. ”I think he's just beautiful--don't you, Alice? He walked most home with me and carried my books just like I was grown up.”
Alice hugged her by way of reply.
”I told him how you always saved the cookies for us and how Ernest said you were a brick and he said Ernest evidently had good taste.”
Alice's face took on several expressions during this recital. When the child had finished, she said gravely:
”Jane, will you do me a favor?”
Chicken Little was all attention.
”Please don't say anything to the other children about what Mr. Harding said or about his sending me the flowers--will you?”
Chicken Little readily promised though she looked disappointed. Secrets certainly had their drawbacks.
She put her own flowers in water in one of her mother's best vases, a white hand holding a snowy tulip, and stood off to admire the effect.
Then she soberly hunted up a box of tiny, vivid pink note paper, a much treasured possession, and set to work on the fateful letter. She selected the front parlor as the most secluded spot she could find, the front parlor being reserved for visitors and holidays exclusively.
Its quiet this evening was almost oppressive. Jane stared about the room seeking inspiration in vain. The old mahogany chairs upholstered in hair cloth were s.h.i.+nily forbidding. The globes of wax flowers and fruit that adorned two small marble-topped tables, were equally cold. The silver water set suggested ice water, and the ”Death of Wesley” which monopolized one wall could hardly be considered cheering. Chicken Little s.h.i.+vered, and taking an ottoman, ensconced herself between the lace curtains at a west window where the late autumn suns.h.i.+ne was still streaming in.
She sucked the end of the lead pencil meditatively.
”Dear Mister Fletcher,” she wrote, then paused for ideas. Writing to Uncle Joseph she found was a very different matter from talking to d.i.c.k Harding. She was picturing Mr. Fletcher in her mind as a cross between a minister and a tame bear. But Jane had a bulldog grit that carried her over hard places, and she finally achieved a letter.
”I guess you'll be surprised to hear from me but I want you to know bout Alice. Katy says your too stuck up is why you wont do anything for Alice. But I thought mebbe you didn't know how bad she wants to go to school. Alice says if she could go to school for two years she could teach and pay you back. She wants to go to school so she can be like other people stead of being a hired girl. Shes an awful nice hired girl.