le to make myself
decent, and they don't, I don't see any reason why I should be expected
to pretend they're as good as I am."

Ernest was waxing wroth. The insistent equality of the Creek was on his
nerves.

"I don't care if people do think I'm stuck up--I'm going to try to
associate with the kind of people I like. It isn't money--it's just nice
living. If it wasn't for people like the Captain and one or two others
we'd forget what lady and gentleman meant. And that isn't saying that
there aren't lots of good kind people on the Creek, too. But they're so
dead satisfied with themselves the way they are--they don't seem to know
there is any better way to live."

Chicken Little was listening eagerly.

"I know what you mean. Lots of it's little things. I noticed that night
at the Jenkins'. Mamie's prettier than me and the boys like her better,
but I don't want to be like her all the same."

"I should think not, Chicken Little, and you needn't worry. You're
nothing but a kid yet, but by the time you're eighteen, Mamie Jenkins
won't hold a candle to you. And while I think of it, Sis, the less you
see of Mamie the better. And I don't want you playing any more kissing
games--you're too big."

"Humph, you just said I was nothing but a kid. You're as bad as Mother."

Ernest was not to be diverted. "None of your dodging. I want you to
promise me you won't."

Chicken Little considered.

"It isn't that I want to play them," she argued, "but if I don't, I'll
have to sit and look on and all the old folks'll ask me if I'm not well,
and the girls'll say I'm stuck up. It wasn't as easy as you seem to
think, Ernest Morton, but I'll promise, if you'll promise not to kiss
any girl while you're gone."

"Nonsense, Jane, you don't understand. It's different with a boy."

Chicken Little fixed her brown eyes upon Ernest's face musingly.

"How is it different?"

"Chicken Little Jane Morton, haven't you had any raising? You know as
well as I do it isn't nice for a girl to let boys kiss her."

Chicken Little considered. "You needn't be so toploftical; girls don't
want most boys to kiss 'em."

"Most?"

"That's what I said. I hated it when Grant kissed me at Mamie's party,
but I don't know that I'd mind if Sherm----"

She got no further. Ernest bristled with brotherly indignation.

"Has Sherm ever----"

"Of course not, Sherm wouldn't! I guess it's because I know he wouldn't,
that I shouldn't much mind if he did."

Chicken