Dr. and Mrs. Morton got home about four o’clock. The girls had studied some time as to whether they should make a clean breast of the morning’s doings, but Ernest, urged on by Sherm, had discouraged them.
“You needn’t be afraid I’ll peach, Sis. You’re an awful good rider for a girl and I don’t mind your taking Caliph so long as you didn’t get hurt. And I guess it was sensible of you not to try him with skirts. But you’d better be careful. You’re getting most too big for such tom boy business.”
“It wasn’t anything really wrong,” argued Chicken Little.
“I know my mother wouldn’t have cared way off out here in the country.” Katy added her mite to the whitewashing.
216“I don’t think it was wrong, but I guess your mother wouldn’t be pleased to hear about it,” observed Gertie sagely.
“She isn’t going to,” said Chicken Little with decision. “I shall tell Father instead.”
Father only laughed. Mrs. Morton did not learn of it until the girls had gone home to Centerville, when Chicken Little, wishing to convince her that she could ride Caliph safely, let it out, and received the long-delayed scolding.
Two days after the riding school, a letter came from Dick and Alice, saying they would arrive Sunday and must leave for Centerville the following Saturday. The same mail brought a letter for Sherm from his mother, and another from Mrs. Dart to Dr. Morton. The doctor did not mention the contents of his until the boy had finished reading his own. Then he stepped over to his side and laid his hand gently upon his head. Sherm was looking pretty sober. “Can you be content to be our boy this winter, Sherm?”
“Thank you, you’re mighty good to want me. I–I guess there’s no college for me this winter. Father’s no better. I wish–excuse me.” Sherm finished abruptly and bolted out of the house.
Chicken Little looked after him with some concern. She turned inquiringly to her father.