.

He went through his pockets thoughtfully. Their contents were not
inspiring--five marbles, a piece of string, two broken slate pencils and
a red bandanna handkerchief slightly soiled. He cherished this
handkerchief specially because he had seen so many teamsters and
jockeys--his special admiration--carrying them. Further, he was the only
boy in school who had one.

He smoothed the handkerchief out carefully and looked at it. Finally he
folded it up into the smallest wad possible, tied it with the bit of
string, and reached under the desk touched Jane's arm. He pressed it
into her hand furtively when she looked around.

"'Tain't much," he said apologetically, "but maybe it'll do for your
doll."

Chicken Little walked on air going home from school that night. She
called Grace Dart clear across the street to come over and see. Grace
came and saw and bowed down. There was no need to ask who had given
Chicken Little the trophy. Only Johnny Carter possessed such a one--and
the handkerchief was undeniably big and masculine. But Jane's troubles
were not over yet. Grace had a good memory.

"I don't care if he did give it to you. I saw him chewing gum this
morning coming to school."

Chicken Little felt that having a beau was harder work than she had
bargained for. She privately resolved never never to have one again,
even if she never grew up to be like Rosamond Clifford. But she hated to
back down on any part of her program before Grace. She didn't like Grace
very well anyway.

But Johnny himself made things easier for her this time. He caught up
with her going home from school the next day and carelessly extended a
brand new paper of gum in passing.

"Oh, Johnny," she said, "I'd love it but Mother don't let
me--and--Johnny----"

Johnny looked expectant.

"I wish you wouldn't chew it either."

Johnny was surprised. He didn't reply for a moment then demanded:

"Why, gum's all right."

"No, it isn't--my Mother says it's a very bad habit."

Johnny pondered. He wasn't walking along with Jane, he was about two
steps ahead.

"Well, I don't mind quittin'--it's kind of girls' stuff anyway."

CHAPTER XIV

MAY BASKETS

It was a late spring and both the wild blossoms and the early garden
flowers were discouragingly scarce.

"I don't believe there is even a spring beauty or a dog-tooth violet out
yet," Mrs. Halford replied doubtfully when the little girls broached the
subject of May baskets.

"I don'