Chicken Little commenced to fidget. It would not make her coming scolding any lighter, if her parents learned that the Captain had felt in duty bound to bring her home. But she did not wish to be rude and it was a long walk by the road. Captain Clarke saw she was disturbed and began to laugh. Her naïvete charmed him. "If my program doesn't suit you, won't you tell me what is wrong? I haven't enjoyed anything so much in years as your visit, my dear. I should like to pay my debt by doing whatever you would like." Jane was radiant by the time he had finished. "Didn't you truly mind my coming? You aren't just being polite?" "Mind? Child, if you ever come to be as lonesome and as old as I am, you will know what a comfort it has been to have anyone as young and sweet and fresh as you are, around. Just a moment, I want to show you one thing more." He went into his bedroom and returned with an old photograph. It was a likeness of a two-year-old child. She took a good look at it, then turned to her host. "It is the picture of the little boy I--I--lost. He was my only one. He--he would be seventeen now." "Why that's just Ernest's age!" "Your brother? The one who was here the other evening?" "Yes, he was seventeen his last birthday. I'm so sorry you lost your little boy." Chicken Little slipped her hand into his to express her sympathy. The Captain did not reply except with an answering pressure. She laid the picture down gently. "He was a beautiful baby--it almost seems to me I've seen someone who looks like him--especially the eyes. And that merry little twist to his mouth. I can't seem to think who it is." Jane puckered her forehead and the Captain observed her closely. "Was it some boy?" He seemed interested in this resemblance. "Yes, how silly of me not to remember. It's Sherman Dart, one of Ernest's old friends back in Centerville." "Centerville? That is in Illinois, is it not?" "Yes, where we used to live. And the eyes are exactly like Sherm's and Sherm always twisted his mouth crooked like that when he smiled." "This boy, he wasn't an orphan, was he?" "Oh no, Mr. and Mrs. Dart are both living though Mr. Dart's been sick a long time." The Captain seemed to have lost interest. "Well, my dear, am I to have the pleasure of driving you home--I'm afraid your parents will be distressed about you." Jane had a bright idea. "Captain Clarke," she spoke rather hesitatingly. "Yes?" "Would you mind--of course it sounds awful of me to ask you--but--it'd be so much easier for me with Mother if you'd just tell her, oh, what you said about my being a comfort and not bothering." Chicken Little was both ashamed and eager. The Captain threw back his head and laughed until the tears came into his eyes. "My dear, I'll make this call all right with your mother, never fear, for I want you to come again. I am going to ask her if you and Ernest can't both honor me by coming to dinner next Sunday."