“That’s just why we want to have them, Mother. The Creek thinks the Morton family is entirely too 346grown up and stiff. They’ll be good-natured, never fear.”
That evening Chicken Little and Sherm put their heads together.
“We just must find some way to fool Frank–I sha’n’t be happy if we don’t.” Chicken Little bit her lips and studied. “Can’t you think of something, Sherm?”
“Not right off the bat, but if we keep our eyes open, we’ll find a way. It would be jolly if we could do it before the crowd. They would so love to see Frank have to take his own medicine. Say, this party is going to be a Jim dandy!”
It had been decided to have the gathering at the cottage, as the big sitting room and the bedroom adjoining would hold more people than Mrs. Morton’s parlor, sitting room, and dining-room all three. Further, the parlor, being separated from the other rooms by a short hallway, was of use only for some little group who wished to be by themselves. Sherm and Chicken Little were busy all day trimming up the pictures and the windows with evergreen and bitter sweet berries, mixed with trailers from the Japanese honeysuckle, which still showed green underneath where it had escaped the hardest freezes. Marian flitted in occasionally with suggestions, but the two did most of the work alone. Chicken Little began by giving Sherm precise directions as to how 347he was to arrange each branch and spray, but, presently, he began to try little effects of his own so much more charming than hers, that she called Marian in to see.
“You certainly have a knack for decoration, Sherm. I never dreamed you were artistic. Why didn’t you tell us? That spray against the curtain is exquisite. Have you ever taken drawing lessons?” Marian was both surprised and interested to discover this unexpected talent in the self-contained lad.
“No, I have never taken real drawing–I used to copy little geometrical designs at school along with the rest.”
“Well, you surely ought to have lessons. I shouldn’t wonder if you had the making of an artist in you.” Marian hurried back to her custards.
Chicken Little went on tying evergreen into ropes, but Marian had put several new ideas into her head.
“Do you want to be an artist, Sherm?”