ive a long way
off in Cincinnati, but they're so stuck up they won't do anything for
Alice."

"Well, never mind now, I'll investigate this some other time," Mrs.
Morton replied absently, still fussing with her lace. Tiny beads of
perspiration were standing out on her flushed face--she kept dabbing
them away with her handkerchief.

It was a hot day for late September and Mrs. Morton found tight corsets
and a close-fitting silk dress trials to Christian fortitude. But she
was a resolute, dignified lady who knew her duty to her church and to
society and did it, regardless of her own comfort or her family's.

"But, Mother, aren't you sorry for Alice?"

"My dear, I didn't call you in to talk about Alice. I want you to play
quietly with your dolls this afternoon like little ladies. Remember to
keep your dress clean, Chicken Little, you have to wear it again
tomorrow afternoon. I don't want to come home and find it all stained
and torn off the belt as I did yesterday. And don't forget to be polite
to your guests. Kiss me good-by now, and run along."

The children, a little disappointed over the meager effect of their
sensation, obediently filed out.

They collected the dolls and ensconced themselves under a spreading
maple in the fence corner to play house, but dolls somehow seemed tame.

"I thought she'd be more s'prised," ventured Katy after a few moments,
as the trio watched Mrs. Morton sweep down the front walk to the gate,
the shimmering folds of her gray silk dragging behind her.

"My, I wish I had such a grand dress," said Gertie, changing the
subject.

"Your mother's got a lot of dresses, hasn't she?"

"Yes, heaps, but I don't want any old silk dresses. I hate to be dressed
up, you can't climb trees or nothing, and your mother always tells you
to be a little lady. Bet I won't be a little lady when I grow up."

"Why, Chicken Little _Jane_, you'll have to be!"

"Sha'n't either--Mother says I'm the worst tomboy she ever saw and I'll
disgrace my family if I don't look out. I don't care if I do--I think
it's fun to be something different. Maybe I'll be a circus-rider." Jane
swung her unfortunate doll about by one arm to emphasize her decision,
and smiled defiantly.

Katy refused to be impressed.

"Pooh, you never saw a circus-rider--you said yesterday your mother'd
never let you go to a circus. I've been to six, counting the one Uncle
Sim took us to in the evening."

"I don't care, I've been to see the an