"King William was King James's son" was in full swing. The young folks made places for the two girls in the ring and promptly drew in Ernest and Sherm as soon as they entered. The lilting tune was sung lustily while the supposed victim in the center, a handsome lad of sixteen with bold, black eyes and dark curls, surveyed the girls, big and little, with an evident enjoyment of his privileges. Several of the older boys interrupted their singing to give him advice. "Take the city girl, Grant, buck up and show your manners." "Bet you knew who you'd choose before you left home." "Don't let on that you don't know which girl you want--Mamie's biting her lips already to wash off that kiss." The boy returned or ignored this badinage as he saw fit. Mamie, however, was indignantly protesting that he needn't try to kiss her. Grant looked in her direction and smiled as the fateful instant arrived. Indeed, he started toward her, then mischievously whirled around and seizing Chicken Little, who was whispering to Katy that Grant was Mamie's beau, kissed her with a resounding smack. Chicken Little was taken so unawares that she had time neither to blush nor to protest or struggle, as was considered etiquette on such occasions. She didn't even try to rub it off, as was also customary. She just looked at him with such a funny mixture of surprise and dismay that everybody roared, including Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins and some of the older neighbors who had come in to see the fun. "Here, Chicken Little, you need practice," and "Chicken Little acts as if she didn't know what kisses were. You'll have to have a rehearsal beforehand next time, Grant!" "Why, Grant? What's the matter with the rest of us?" These comments were open and noisy. Ernest took all this coarse bantering at his young sister's expense good-naturedly. He knew no offence was intended. He had been present at a number of these rural frolics. But Sherm, town-bred and unaccustomed to this form of amusement, was distinctly displeased both at the kiss and the talk. He got Chicken Little off to one side as soon as he could. "Say, Chicken Little, don't let the boys kiss you." Chicken Little looked concerned. "I don't like them to, Sherm, but I can't help it if I play--and they'd think I was awfully stuck up and rude if I refused." "Does your mother know they have this sort of games?" Chicken Little made a little grimace. "Don't go and be grown-up and horrid, Sherm. Everybody does it here. They'll stop this pretty soon and play clap in and clap out or forfeits." Her big brown eyes were lifted so innocently and sweetly that Sherm couldn't say any more, but he felt a curious desire to fight every time a big boy so much as stared at Jane. "She's such a kid!" he explained the feeling to himself, "and Ernest isn't looking after her at all."