ry and
the rest are old goody-goody tattle-tales you wouldn't be caught dead
with! Guess they're 'fraid if they got a real live boy in a book he'd
bust the covers off!"

Ernest's disgust was so real it was painful. Jane sympathized acutely.

"The 'Elsie Books' aren't so bad only I guess Mother'd spank me if I
talked to her the way Elsie does to her father."

"Can't play with the boys--can't read--can't go for a tramp--can't even
get my lessons for tomorrow."

Ernest flung himself on the old haircloth sofa and groaned.

Chicken Little looked out of the window wistfully. It was a glorious
September day. The fragrance of ripening grapes from the long arbor
outside floated in temptingly; the maples were already showing gleams of
red and yellow and the soft air was fairly calling to a frolic. Beyond
the two high board fences that bounded the Alley separating their yard
from the Halford place, she knew her two small playmates were happy out
in the sunshine. Mrs. Halford's views on Sunday keeping were not so
rigid.

Chicken Little sighed, then suddenly brightened. "Katy and Gertie
haven't got a brother anyhow!" she said half aloud, balancing
advantages.

"Who you talking to?" Ernest raised himself on his elbow to find out.

"Nobody--I was just a thinking."

"Must be hard work. Say, Sis, I know something you don't know. No, I'm
not going to tell--it's a secret. Bet you'll be tickled to death when
you find out--here, look out!"

Ernest flung his arm up in defense as Jane threw herself joyfully upon
him.

"Ernest Morton, you mean thing--tell me this minute or I'll tickle you."

"Pooh, you couldn't tickle a fly. Think you're smart, don't you? I'm
going to tell you next Saturday and not one second sooner so you don't
need to tease."

"Next Saturday? Is it a picnic? Am I going?"

"Sha'n't tell you what it is, but you're going."

"Goody! Are Katy and Gertie going?"

Ernest saw that she was getting perilously near the facts and
considered.

"Tell you next Saturday," he replied tantalizingly.

"Please, Ernest, just tell me that."

"Nope, little girls shouldn't be so curious."

"Say, Ernest, if I'll get you a cooky will you?"

"You can't. Mother said if we didn't leave that cooky jar alone she'd
punish us--besides Alice hid them."

"I don't care. I've got six."

"Where in--how'd you get them?--hook them?"

"I did not, Ernest Morton. Mother says we can eat all we want when Alice
bakes, and I didn't want v