Chicken Little found team work with him very delightful and could scarcely believe the noon hour was over, when he pulled out his watch and announced that he must call school. She turned a radiant face up to him. "Oh, it's such fun to have you play--I wish you would often." "Thank you, it's fine exercise, isn't it?" Mamie began her Cæsar the next day, requiring much help from "Teacher." She also came to school in her best dress. Mamie had faith in first impressions. Chicken Little had been tempted the night before to betray Mamie's schemes to Sherm, but she stopped with the words on the tip of her tongue. She couldn't exactly have explained the scruple that would not let her "give Mamie away," as she phrased it. "Is the teacher any good?" Sherm had asked, meeting her at the ford on her way home, and taking lunch basket and books with an air of possession, which was the one trick of Sherm's that annoyed Chicken Little. He never asked leave or offered to relieve her of burdens; he merely reached over and took them. She minded this more than usual to-day; Mr. Clay's manner had been so delightful. She couldn't even thank Sherm. They trudged along in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Sherm asked dryly: "Left your tongue at school, Miss Morton?--you're not very sociable." Chicken Little responded by making a face at him, which brought an ominous sparkle into the boy's eyes. Things hadn't gone very well with him that day and he had waited for Jane for a little companioning. "Well," he demanded gruffly, "what's the matter? Did Mr. Clay stand you in a corner the first day or did the handsome Grant neglect you for Mamie?" The last thrust put fire in Chicken Little's eye. She turned and looked at him squarely. "Sherm, if I slapped you some day would you be surprised?" she demanded unexpectedly. Sherm flashed a sidelong glance at her. "Not as surprised as you'll be, if you ever try it." Chicken Little considered this remark. Just what did he mean? Sherm's face was flushed a trifle angrily. He looked as if he might mean most anything. She replied demurely with a provoking shrug of her shoulders. "I didn't say I should--but I wanted to dreadfully a minute ago." The tall lad beside her seemed genuinely surprised at this statement. "I suppose you know what you are talking about, Chicken Little, but I'm blamed if I do." "It's the way you take my books and----" "Yes?" Sherm was still more surprised. Then an idea popping into his mind, "Oh, I presume you'd like to have me take off my hat and make you a profound reverence as your favorite heroes do in novels. What in thunder you girls find to like in those trashy novels is more than I can see!"