to erase
every line, then rubbed it in by guiding her hand to make her write the
names of the opposition candidates. Despite all Chicken Little's
struggles, he persisted until the hated names were finished in writing
that decidedly resembled crow tracks, but could be read by anyone having
sufficient patience.

Chicken Little was furious but helpless. Mr. Clay had gone home early in
order to drive into town that evening. Grant treated her anger as a good
joke. She finally wrenched her hand loose and gave him a resounding
smack across the cheek, that made her tormentor's face tingle.

It was Grant's turn to be vexed now. He caught her arm and twisted it
till she winced. "Say you're sorry!"

"I won't!"

Grant turned the supple wrist a twist farther. "Now, will you?"

"No sir, not if you twist till you break it--I won't! I'm not going to
be bullied!"

Grant began to be afraid she meant what she said. But his pride would
not let him give in to a girl. "All right, little stubborn, I'll kiss
you till you do."

As Grant loosened his hold on her wrist, Jane jerked away and fled
toward the door in a panic. She was more than half afraid of Grant in
this humor--and then her promise to Ernest.

"Oh, dear, I knew better than to do that, but he made me so mad!" she
mourned.

Grant was close upon her. She fairly hurled herself out the door and
most unexpectedly bumped into Sherm, who caught her in time to save her
catapulting down the steps.

"Save the pieces, Chicken Little, what's your hurry?"

"O Sherm,--oh, I'm so glad you came--I----"

Before she could finish Grant reached the door, stopping short on seeing
Sherm.

Jane clutched Sherm's arm tight. "Don't let him, please don't let him!"

Her words were not entirely clear, but Sherm promptly shoved her behind
him and confronted Grant angrily.

"Big business you're in, frightening girls--you bully!"

Sherm had taken a dislike to Grant that evening at Mamie's and exulted
in this opportunity to pick a quarrel. Grant was equally ready. He
scorned explanations and replied by pulling off his coat. Sherm swiftly
peeled his also. Chicken Little was alarmed by these warlike
preparations.

"Don't, boys, don't! I guess it was part my fault, Sherm. Grant didn't
mean any harm. We were scrapping over the election and----"

"I don't care whether it was your fault or not, Jane. If Grant doesn't
know enough to be a gentleman, it's time he learned."

Sherm sprang forward an