Jane’s face grew hot, but she looked at him mutely.
“I thought it was only rough boys who smashed in people’s noses and made them bleed. I didn’t suppose my gentle little sister would do such a thing.”
Chicken Little swallowed hard but still kept silent and Frank pressed harder.
“I have always believed my little sister was a lady. I am afraid Mother will be grieved to hear what her daughter has been doing.”
Words came to Chicken Little at last in a burst of sobs:
“I don’t care—he took my candy—I had to stand—on—on the floor—and it wasn’t fair—you can just go and tell Mother if you want to!”
Frank took her hand and patted it.
“Out with the whole story, Sis. I suspected there was something more to it than I heard—you aren’t usually warlike.”
So Chicken Little sobbed out the woeful tale. Brother Frank smiled broadly above the bent head over the ludicrous incident, but he controlled himself sufficiently to admonish soberly.
“Well, Johnny seems to have deserved all he got. At the same time, Jane, I don’t think I’d do such a thing again, if I were you.”