least, and might be expected to yield a few trout. He made her
comfortable on the spreading roots of an elm growing upward with
difficulty from a steep bank. Grant smiled at her as he handed her the
rod and tossed the baited hook into the stillest part of the pool.
"There, you ought to get a bite soon. This is one of the best places on
the creek for catfish. Say, what did you girls do to yourselves that you
are so used up to-day? You didn't take a five-mile walk or anything
after we left, did you?"
Jane laughed. "Don't you wish you knew?"
"Oh, I'll find out, but I wish you'd tell me." Grant looked at her from
under his long black lashes. His tone was distinctly wheedling.
Chicken Little laughed again and shook her head.
Grant threw his own line in, seating himself a little lower down on the
bank; and quiet reigned for several minutes.
But the boy was determined to get the secret from her. After a tedious
silence, he began in a low tone so that he would not disturb the fish:
"You know, Chicken Little, I always did think you were the prettiest
girl in school, but you were such a kid you never took the trouble to
look at a fellow. Seems to me you might be nice now and tell me what you
did."
He neglected to mention the fact that he had bet Mamie a silk
handkerchief against a plate of taffy that he would find out what they
had been up to before night. He received no response.
"Oh, come now, be a trump and tell a fellow."
He glanced around this time with a tenderly reproachful look. This
tenderness speedily vanished. Jane was peacefully asleep, her head
supported against the tree trunk.
The boy's face flushed wrathfully for an instant, but he had a saving
sense of humor. "Serves me right for trying to get the best of a kid, I
guess," he said to himself. He let her sleep on undisturbed until the
sound of voices announced the approach of some of the others, when he
hastily wakened her. He did not intend to be laughed at for the rest of
the day.
Chicken Little found it hard to wake up and was heavy-eyed and stupid
the remainder of the afternoon. Fortunately for her and Katy, Ernest had
orders from his mother to be home by dark.
Patient Gertie was waiting expectantly to hear about the good times, but
she could hardly extract three words from either of the revellers.
Parties and boys and finery were all stale, but their neatly made bed
looked like heaven.
Chapter IX
BREAD AND POLLIWOGS
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