“For me to know and you to find out,” she said with dignity.
“Bet you can’t do it,” retorted Grace, nettled. “Johnny Carter likes that red-headed girl who goes to our Sunday School better than you anyhow. I saw him talking to her. I guess it doesn’t make a boy your beau, just wanting him to be!” And Grace departed with her nose in the air after this parting thrust.
It made Chicken Little feel a trifle uncomfortable. She wished she hadn’t been so hasty about claiming Johnny’s affections. She wished this still more when she went over to Halford’s that evening for Katy called to her before she got inside the gate.
“Somebody’s got a beau!—somebody’s got a beau!” and Katy pointed the finger of scorn at her vigorously.
Chicken Little tried to appear unconcerned.
“Pooh, that’s nothing—all the girls have.”
Katy ignored this remark and returned to the charge.
“Jane Morton’s got a beau! Johnny Carter is Jane’s beau!”
Chicken Little began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. She did wish Katy wouldn’t sing it out so loud.
But Katy was thoroughly enjoying herself. She had discovered Ernest and Carol coming along the walk and she saw her chance to make a hit. She took up the refrain again with embellishments.