“I’ve got a lot more in my pockets,” he said as she started to thank him.
He had. The pockets appeared to be practically bottomless, as Pat hauled out handful after handful till the skirt of Jane’s neat little traveling dress began to sag dangerously with the weight.
“They aren’t much,” he said apologetically, “but I wanted to bring you something. Pete’s getting along fine. Mother likes him—she says he’ll be company for Maggie when she’s out washing. And Maggie’s that happy you wouldn’t believe it. We’re awful obliged.”
Pat’s desire to bring Chicken Little something seemed to be contagious. Grace Dart caught sight of them out at the fence and ran over bearing a parting gift.
“I want you to have it, Jane. I cracked the mirror and the lining of the box is torn a little but the rest’s most as good as new. And I truly think Victoria is the prettiest.”
She thrust the remains of the prize toilet set into Chicken Little’s hands with a beaming smile.
Chicken Little entirely forgot that she didn’t like Grace Dart.
“I’ll write to you soon as we get settled,” she promised.
Ernest came to fetch her to breakfast accompanied by Carol and Sherm, who had whistled for him before he was out of bed. These reinforcements soon lightened her load of plums and Grace Dart got her a paper bag for the rest.
Mrs. Halford’s fried chicken and hot biscuit and honey were a great bracer. Chicken Little’s teary mood slipped away and she revelled in the excitement of the good-byes. She promised everybody weekly letters for the remainder of her natural life.