the street.

Two boys stood there chuckling, apparently staring straight at the
little girls.

The three little girls stopped for an instant indignant.

"Oh, come on," said Chicken Little, "it's the Howard twins and they're
awful mean. Just pretend we don't see them."

But the boys had started toward them.

The little girls had half a mind to run when one of the boys called:
"Where did you get your bodyguard?"

They looked hastily behind them--there was no one in sight.

Katy was provoked.

"You think you're awful smart, don't you?" she called back.

The boys were shaking with laughter and were now half-way across the
street. The larger one began chanting: "Mary had a little lamb," and the
other added quickly: "His fleece was green as grass----"

The children stopped and looked around again. This time Gertie spied a
small green body hovering close to Jane's white shoes.

"Poor Pete," it remarked plaintively.

"Why Pete--you naughty bird--how did you come to follow me? What can I
do? Get down, Pete--you'll spoil my dress."

Pete was trying to climb Jane's skirts. He did not like the looks of the
strange boys.

"Dear me, we'll have to take him back home," said Gertie.

"We'll take him for you. Can he talk?"

Before Chicken Little could reply something leaped into the midst of the
little group and Pete gave a heart-rending squawk. The children jumped
and screamed but before they fairly understood what had happened, Pete
and a big gray cat were in mortal combat. Fur and feathers flew for
several awful seconds accompanied by wails from the little girls and
shouts from the boys who wanted to save the parrot but hated to spoil
the fight.

The Howard boys made one or two ineffectual efforts to grab Pete
getting nips and scratches for their pains. Chicken Little, terrified
for Pete's life, tried to seize the cat and received a vicious scratch
on the arm. The others pulled her away.

A crowd was quickly gathering. Rescue came opportunely in the shape of
Pat Casey who had the good sense to arm himself with a stick. A few
smart blows loosened the cat's grip and it slunk away. Pete, much
disheveled and shorn of some of his gayest feathers, stood blinking
dazedly for a minute. Then, catching sight of Chicken Little, he hopped
feebly toward her, croaking hoarsely: "Bust my buttons."

The children set up a shout.

"I guess the cat pretty nearly did bust 'em," remarked Pat laughing.

Poor Pete was cuddled and