Mrs. Morton looked perplexed for a moment, then straightened herself resolutely.
“No, daughter, you have been a very rebellious little girl. I can’t encourage such conduct. But if you will practice your hour faithfully, I’ll let you put off the sewing till two o’clock this afternoon—on condition that you promise to sit down without making any fuss and finish that square today. Bring it here and let me see if you are doing it right.”
Jane fidgeted and looked at her mother uneasily.
“I don’t know ’zackly where it is,” she objected.
“Go hunt it.”
Chicken Little went slowly, evidently oppressed by thought.
She returned in about three minutes with three much mussed pieces of silk sewn together, from which dangled a needle by a remarkably long and dirty silk thread.
Her mother examined it with disfavor.
“Where are your other pieces?” she inquired sternly.
Chicken Little answered in a most ladylike small voice.