“Keep the basket and I’ll put kitty in my pocket and dispose of her some way.”
“No, indeed, I’ll manage somehow—bless the child. This must be the kitty Grace Dart promised her. If they’ll only let me keep it at Uncle Joseph’s I believe it will be a real comfort.”
Dick Harding lifted Jane up for a parting wave to Alice through the car window as the train pulled out. Alice held up a pert maltese kitten and made it wave its paw in return.
“Why—where did she get that kitten?” gasped Mrs. Morton, a sudden suspicion entering her mind. “Chicken Little Jane was that what you had in that basket?”
Chicken Little looked abashed, but Dick Harding came to the rescue.
“Mrs. Morton, may Jane walk up with me—I’ll take good care of her?”
After a moment’s hesitation Mrs. Morton consented. Dick handed her into the omnibus and Chicken Little trotted joyfully along beside him. Dick Harding seemed to enjoy having the warm little hand tucked confidingly into his own.
It was an ideal winter day, clear and crisp and gorgeously white.
They walked along in silence for a few minutes before Jane burst out with the idea that was occupying her small brain.
“Why does it make people nicer to go to school a lot? I don’t think Alice could be any nicer, do you, Mr. Harding? Our teacher’s gone to school, oh, most always, I guess, and I don’t think she’s near as nice as Alice.”