ie?"

The last thrust put fire in Chicken Little's eye. She turned and looked
at him squarely.

"Sherm, if I slapped you some day would you be surprised?" she demanded
unexpectedly.

Sherm flashed a sidelong glance at her. "Not as surprised as you'll be,
if you ever try it."

Chicken Little considered this remark. Just what did he mean?

Sherm's face was flushed a trifle angrily. He looked as if he might mean
most anything. She replied demurely with a provoking shrug of her
shoulders.

"I didn't say I should--but I wanted to dreadfully a minute ago."

The tall lad beside her seemed genuinely surprised at this statement.

"I suppose you know what you are talking about, Chicken Little, but I'm
blamed if I do."

"It's the way you take my books and----"

"Yes?" Sherm was still more surprised. Then an idea popping into his
mind, "Oh, I presume you'd like to have me take off my hat and make you
a profound reverence as your favorite heroes do in novels. What in
thunder you girls find to like in those trashy novels is more than I can
see!"

Chicken Little bristled. "Hm-n, Walter Scott and Washington Irving,
trashy! Shows how much you know, if you have graduated from High School,
Sherman Dart! Besides, I didn't mean any such thing. Only, you sort of
take my things without asking--as if--as if----" She was getting into
rather deeper water than she had anticipated.

"Yes, as if what?"

"Oh, I don't suppose you mean it that way--but you act as if I was only
a silly little girl--and didn't count!"

Chicken Little was decidedly red in the face by the time she finished.

Sherm didn't say anything for a moment, but he continued to look at her.
He looked at her as if he had found something about her he hadn't
noticed before.

"Who put that idea into your head?--Mamie?"

She shook her head indignantly.

"Grant Stowe?"

"Nobody, thank you, I guess I have a mind of my own."

"New teacher start in by giving you a lecture on deportment?"

Chicken Little stamped her foot. "You're perfectful hateful--and I
sha'n't walk another step with you!"

They were near the gate leading from the lane into the orchard and she
suited the action to the word, by darting through it and running off
under the trees.

Sherm looked after her a moment, undecided whether to stand on his
dignity or to pursue. He had considered Jane a little girl--most of the
time. Some way she was alluringly different to-day. He suddenly resolved
that