Chicken Little got even by hurling a big cluster
of cherries at him. She aimed them at his lap, but they struck him full
in the face to her great glee.

"Well now, them Jane birds ain't so bad." Mr. Benton remarked eating the
fruit with a relish.

The morning sped by briskly. Jilly created a diversion by getting her
small self into trouble. Marian noticed that she was picking something
off the tree trunk and putting it into the pocket of her little ruffled
apron.

"What's Jilly getting there? Can you see, Chicken Little?"

Chicken Little twisted and peered until she could take a good look.

"Why--Marian, I do believe it's ants! The silly baby--they'll bite her!"

Marian hurried down the tree to rescue her offspring, but not before
Jilly set up a wail of anguish.

"Naughty sings bite Jilly!" she moaned, as her Mother picked the small
tormentors off her arms and bare legs. But Jilly was a sunny child, and
as soon as the pain eased, found a smile and remarked complacently:
"Ants bite Jilly, too bad, too bad!"

Jane braced herself firmly in a crotch where the red fruit was thickest
and picked mechanically while she unburdened her mind of the previous
day's doings. She chattered about her adventures till Marian could have
repeated every word of her conversation with the Captain off by heart,
and might have given a pretty accurate inventory of his possessions, or
at least the portion of them that Jane had seen.

Marian was genuinely interested and liked to hear Chicken Little tell it
all, but she wondered what Mrs. Morton had thought about the junketing.

"But what did your Mother say, dear?" she asked finally.

"She didn't like it."

"You didn't suppose she would, did you?"

"N-o-o, but----"

"Yes?"

"I'd never have got to go if I'd waited for permission. And, Marian,"
Chicken Little thought it was time to change the subject, "how do you
make yourself be sorry, when you ought to be and aren't?"

Marian wanted to laugh but she saw her young sister had not intended to
be funny. She half guessed the situation.

"Why Jane, I hardly know, the old monks used to set themselves penances
to atone for their sins."

"Did it make them really sorry? Do you think?"

"Well, yes, I should think it must have or they would never have had the
courage to persist in them. Some of their penances were terribly severe
such as beating themselves with knotted ropes, but I shouldn't advise
anything of that kind for you. You mig