Part 44 (1/2)

Jane waited round a while expectantly, studying over the wonderful possibility of moving but finally got tired and went to Halford's.

When she came home to dinner the sitting-room door was still closed and a steady murmur of voices could be heard.

Olga rang the bell for dinner twice before that closed door was opened.

Chicken Little eyed them curiously as they filed out. Her father looked eager and excited, but her mother's eyes were red as if she had been crying again.

Dr. Morton put his arm around Chicken Little as she pa.s.sed her and drew her tenderly to him.

”How would you like to go and live on a farm, Humbug, where you could have chickens and calves and ponies to play with? It would put more color into your face I'll be bound.”

”Could I have a pony, Father, all my own?”

Dr. Morton nodded.

”Gee, wouldn't that be fun?”

”Jane,” said Mrs. Morton severely, ”how often have I told you that little ladies do not use slang?

”You seem to be planning to let the children run wild when they get out to Kansas,” she added, turning to Dr. Morton, ”but I will have them use correct English.”

It did not take the news that the Mortons were moving to Kansas, long to spread in the small town. Visitors flocked in to sympathize with Mrs.

Morton over going to a new country, and Dr. Morton's friends and patients stopped him on the street to express their regret at losing him.

There were still many things to be arranged before they could set a date for their departure. Their chief concern was the home. Frank had been fortunate enough to sell his pretty cottage, but the old-fas.h.i.+oned gabled house with its wistaria vines and terraced lawns, was not so easy to dispose of. Dr. Morton hoped to rent it for a year or two until he could sell it. He was most anxious that they should all accompany Frank and Marian to the new home in September.

One afternoon as Chicken Little was coming leisurely up the walk with Katy and Gertie, Mrs. Morton called from the window:

”Hurry up, Chickabiddy, there is somebody here you would like to see.”

The little girls started to run, guessing eagerly as to who the visitor might be.

As Chicken Little crossed the threshold the mysterious someone pounced upon her and lifted her up bodily from the floor, exclaiming:

”Oh, Chicken Little, I've been homesick to see you in spite of the kitty! Dear me, how you have grown!”

It was Alice, laughing and crying and hugging her all in one instant.

Katy and Gertie came in for their share, too. Then they must all go into the parlor to meet Uncle Joseph, for he had come all the way from Cincinnati with Alice.

Jane edged rather shyly up to the dignified, gray-haired man who was talking to her mother. She hadn't forgotten the evening when she had written to him in fear and trembling beside the very window where he was sitting now. But Uncle Joseph rose to meet her with a broad smile making little kindly wrinkles around his eyes.

”So this is Chicken Little Jane,” he said, taking both her hands and looking down into her wondering brown eyes. ”Well, Chicken Little, I believe I should have known you anywhere. You look so exactly like yourself, big eyes and all.”

Uncle Joseph laughed at her mystified expression.

Alice came to the rescue.

”He means you look like my description of you, dear. I shall take great credit to myself.”

”You needn't,” said Uncle Joseph, ”for that's only partly what I mean.