Jane hesitated, got red in the face and tried to pretend not to know anything about it, but sharp little Katy had it all out of her in no time, and the deed once done Jane joyfully volunteered a few facts on her own account.
“I’m going, and I’m going to have some white shoes and a pale blue silk poplin dress with lots of little ruffles all up and down in hills—you know,” and Jane danced about on her tip-toes boastfully to be recalled promptly to earth by Katy.
“Your mother didn’t want you to tell, did she? Gee, I bet she’ll be mad!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Chicken Little conscience-stricken, “you mustn’t ever tell!”
“Well, I just guess I knew it before you told me, Jane Morton, and I guess I didn’t promise anybody I wouldn’t tell. ’Sides, everybody that’s got eyes knows it. I’ve seen your brother out riding with her heaps of times.”
“She’s got be-utiful clothes,” said Gertie, “and her sister May says her hair reaches most down to her knees and it’s just as thick as——”
“Yes,” interrupted Katy, “and I guess you’ll have to like Jennie Gates whether you want to or not ’cause she’ll be a kind of a sister, too.”
“She won’t either!” denied Chicken Little hotly. “Mother said just Marian, and she’s lovely—so there!”
“Isn’t it funny her name will be Marian Morton now instead of Marian Gates,” replied Katy, satisfied with the commotion she had caused and wishing to give a new turn to the conversation.
This was a new thought to Chicken Little and she paused to ponder over it. Of course her mother’s name was Morton the same as her father’s, but then she supposed it had always been Morton. That night when she went home she astounded her mother by asking why Frank’s name wouldn’t be Frank Gates if Marian was to be Marian Morton. She also made her big brother’s face flush by asking if Marian’s red hair really truly came below her knees.