nd shook a nickel out of her bank which she
invested in candy hearts the next morning, going downtown on her way to
school--a thing strictly forbidden in the Morton household.

She didn't have a chance to look at them till she got home at noon, and
then, alas, none of the mottoes seemed suitable. She couldn't make up
her mind to give him "You're my girl," or "I love you," or "Sweetheart
mine," which appeared oftenest in flaming red letters on their tombstone
surfaces.

She decided to try again. That night she took another nickel out of her
bank and bought more hearts the following morning. This time she found
two she thought might do. She wavered quite a while between "Be my
friend," and "I like you," at length deciding on the latter.

She wrapped it up carefully in a bit of white paper, then waiting her
opportunity took the rest of the bag of hearts and dumped them in the
grate. She was sick of them. Her mother coming in soon after wondered
what made such an odor of burned sugar.

But the act of putting the fateful heart on Johnny's desk wasn't as
simple as she had fancied beforehand. If Miss Brown wasn't looking,
Grace Dart was. It seemed to her that Grace didn't study a single bit
that whole afternoon. Twice when the coast was clear, she actually
turned around with the heart in her hand, but some way her courage
failed her. One look into Johnny's impish eyes paralyzed her hand.
Finally she decided to put it on his desk when he went to the board. She
would wait till he was almost back to his seat so nobody could get it,
and, then lay it down real quick.

The deed was done and Chicken Little turned back to bury her burning
face in her Geography and await results. She listened to the rustling of
paper as Johnny unwrapped the heart. There was a long silence. She
wondered if he would eat it. But Johnny evidently didn't eat it. She
couldn't detect the tiniest crunch. She began to grow more and more
uncomfortable. Suppose he should show it to some of the other
children--or to teacher.

But Johnny wasn't thinking of doing anything of the kind. He was
furtively contemplating the tip of a very red ear and a strip of cheek,
which were about all he could see of Chicken Little's face. Johnny had
secretly admired Chicken Little ever since she had got even with him so
artistically. He was considerably overcome by this unlooked-for mark of
her favor. But he couldn't think off-hand of any suitable way of
returning the courtesy