TLE PAYS A VISIT

Mrs. Morton was sitting at her desk writing a letter. Jane hovered
about inquisitively. She was almost sure it was to Mrs. Halford. And if
so, she must surely be inviting Katie and Gertie. If she could only be
sure. She tried in vain to get a glimpse of the heading, but her
mother's hand rested on the paper in such a way as to effectually
conceal it. Mrs. Morton did not believe in encouraging curious young
daughters. But opportunity was kind; some one called her mother away.
She left the letter lying there partly finished. Chicken Little started
joyfully across the room, but before she had reached the desk, something
held her back. She had been most carefully trained as to what was
honorable; sneaking was not tolerated in the Morton family.

"No," she said to herself regretfully, "I mustn't peep behind her back!
I couldn't look anybody in the face if I did."

She slowly turned away. When her mother returned, she glanced sharply at
Chicken Little quietly reading on the opposite side of the room. The
girl did not realize that her face proved her innocence. It was so sober
that her mother felt sure she had not meddled with the letter. Jane had
not learned to conceal her emotions.

Dr. and Mrs. Morton were both going to town that day. Mrs. Morton drove
away without satisfying Chicken Little's curiosity, which was probably
largely responsible for what happened. Jane felt injured. She thought
her mother might tell her whether she could have the girls or not. Ten
days was enough time for anybody to make up her mind.

Frank and Ernest were out in the fields harrowing; Marian, busy sewing.
Chicken Little soon finished the few tasks her mother had left for her
and time began to hang heavy on her hands. She couldn't seem to fix her
thought on a book because she kept wondering every minute if that letter
was to Mrs. Halford. She wandered out into the June sunshine and wished
she could have gone to town, too. Presently she began to feel aggrieved
because her parents hadn't taken her with them.

Across the fields she could see the men at work and could occasionally
hear them calling to the horses. She wished she had a horse to ride. The
pony that was called hers by courtesy was the mainstay for the herding
and she could seldom use him at this season. Finally, after digging her
heels into some loose earth beside the path, she had an inspiration. She
debated it a moment with herself, then slipped back into the