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diff --git a/26232-h/26232-h.htm b/26232-h/26232-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7af2251 --- /dev/null +++ b/26232-h/26232-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5327 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Sunny Boy in the Country, by Ramy Allison White. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + .figleft {padding: .5em .5em 0 0; float: left;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em} + hr.full {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + hr.mini {width: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .caption {font-size:.8em} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + .blockquot {margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.minor {width: 35%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Sunny Boy in the Country, by Ramy Allison White + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sunny Boy in the Country + +Author: Ramy Allison White + +Illustrator: Charles L. Wrenn + +Release Date: August 8, 2008 [EBook #26232] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY BOY IN THE COUNTRY *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +<img src='images/sunny-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 361px; height: 500px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 361px;'> +Indeed there were all kinds of goodies in those boxes. (<i>See Page 207</i>)<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:2em;'>SUNNY BOY</p> +<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>IN THE COUNTRY</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>BY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:3em;'>RAMY ALLISON WHITE</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em; font-style:italic;'>ILLUSTRATED BY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em; font-style:italic;'>CHARLES L. WRENN</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/sunny-emb.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 90px; height: 65px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>BARSE & HOPKINS</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em;'>PUBLISHERS</p> +<p style=' font-size:1em; margin-bottom:2em;'>NEW YORK, N.Y. NEWARK, N.J.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'> +<p>Copyright, 1920</p> +<p>By</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Barse & Hopkins</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class='mini' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' margin-bottom:1em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sunny Boy in the Country</span></p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Contents</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Mended Drum</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_MENDED_DRUM'>9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Spreading The News</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_SPREADING_THE_NEWS'>22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Packing The Trunk</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_PACKING_THE_TRUNK'>35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Off For Brookside</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_OFF_FOR_BROOKSIDE'>49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>On The Train</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_ON_THE_TRAIN'>61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Brookside</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_BROOKSIDE'>73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Adventures Begin</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_ADVENTURES_BEGIN'>86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Letter From Daddy</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_A_LETTER_FROM_DADDY'>98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sunny Boy Forgets</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_SUNNY_BOY_FORGETS'>110</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Going Fishing</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_GOING_FISHING'>124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Hay Slide</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_THE_HAY_SLIDE'>136</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Apple Pies</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_APPLE_PIES'>152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>More Mischief</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_MORE_MISCHIEF'>169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Another Hunt</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_ANOTHER_HUNT'>185</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sunny’s Good Luck</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_SUNNY_S_GOOD_LUCK'>201</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>ILLUSTRATIONS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto'> +<col style='width:80%;' /> +<col style='width:20%;' /> +<tr> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Indeed there were all kinds of goodies in those boxes.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>And tucked the clock away down deep in one of the corner holes Aunt Bessie had left in the trunk.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>He lifted one of the baby rabbits and placed it in Sunny’s hands.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>With a crash a frightened little boy fell into the flour barrel.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>167</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-top:2em;'>SUNNY BOY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>IN THE COUNTRY</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_THE_MENDED_DRUM' id='I_THE_MENDED_DRUM'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE MENDED DRUM</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Rub-a-dub, dub! Bang! Rub-a-dub-dub—Bang! +Bang!” Sunny Boy thumped his drum vigorously.</p> +<p>Usually when he made such a racket some +one would come out and ask him what in the +world was he making a noise like that for, +but this morning every one seemed to be very +busy. For several minutes now Sunny Boy +had been trying to attract Harriet’s attention. +She was doing something to the front +door.</p> +<p>“I spect she needs me,” said Sunny Boy +to himself.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span></div> +<p>There were any number of interesting +things going on around the front door this +morning, but he was chiefly interested in +Harriet, because as a rule he had to help her +Saturday mornings by going with her to the +grocery store at the corner. He liked to +stand in her clean, comfortable kitchen and +drum for her until she was ready to start.</p> +<p>This particular morning Harriet’s mind +seemed to be far away from music. She was +rubbing briskly as Sunny Boy watched her, +polishing—that was it: she was shining the +brass numbers on the door—266. Sunny +Boy knew them, and how careful Harriet +was to keep them always bright.</p> +<p>“Just think,” she would say, as they might +be coming up the steps; “suppose the postman +had a letter for 266 Glenn Avenue, and +the numbers were so dull and streaked he +couldn’t read them! Think how we’d feel +if that should happen to us!”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was sure such a thing could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +never happen, not with Harriet rubbing +away at the numbers morning after morning.</p> +<p>From his post at the head of the stairs he +could see a man on a step-ladder, working +and whistling. He was hammering in nails +over the door. Dimly Sunny Boy made out +another pair of doors standing in the hall.</p> +<p>“Goodness, Sunny Boy, I nearly fell over +you!” Aunt Bessie kissed him on the back +of his neck before he could turn round. +That was a trick Aunt Bessie had, and Sunny +Boy was used to it. “Are you watching +them put up the screens and awnings?”</p> +<p>“Are they?” asked Sunny interestedly. +“Could I hold the awning? Maybe the man +would like my tool-chest—it’s all there but +the hammer. I lost that in the park. Can +I help, Auntie?”</p> +<p>Aunt Bessie was going downtown, and +she was in a hurry. “If you don’t get in the +way, I daresay they’ll be glad to have you,” +she said kindly, and brushed by him, on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +down the stairs. She stopped to speak to +some one in the parlor, and then Sunny Boy +saw her go out and down the steps.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy sat down on the top stair and +took his drum in his lap. Presently he +would go down and help the awning man, +but it was very pleasant where he was. The +softest little May breeze came wandering +through the open door up to him, and the +canary in the dining room was singing his +cheerful loudest. Sunny Boy leaned his +curly head against the bannister to listen.</p> +<p>His real name, of course, was not Sunny +Boy—oh, no, he was named for his grandpa, +and when the postman brought him an invitation +to a birthday party you might see it +written out—Arthur Bradford Horton.</p> +<p>But birthday parties happen only once in +a while, and Daddy and Mother called him +Sunny Boy because he was nearly always +cheerful. As Mother explained, you can’t +depend on a party happening to cheer you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +up, so to know a little boy who is sure to +smile every day—well, that is worth while. +And often Sunny forgot that he had any +other name.</p> +<p>Bump—bang—bumpty, bang! Down +the stairs suddenly rolled the drum, making +a fearful racket on the steps as it bounded +from side to side. Down the stairs it rolled, +across the narrow strip of hall, past Harriet, +now on her knees scrubbing the green +and white tiles, under the ladder of the +awning man, down the steps, and right out +into the street! After it scrambled Sunny +Boy, as fast as his tan sandals would take +him. He was just in time to see his drum +roll to the middle of the street and stop in +the center of the heavy traffic. A big furniture +van, drawn by three horses, was +headed right for it.</p> +<p>“It’ll be smashed! Oh, oh!” Sunny Boy +wailed, hopping up and down on the curb, +but remembering even in his excitement that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +he had promised not to go off the pavement +when alone. “They’ll ride right over my +drum!”</p> +<p>“I guess not!” cried a tall man, and darted +out from behind Sunny. He rushed to +where the drum lay and snatched it up, +almost from under the horses’ feet.</p> +<p>The colored man driving the furniture +van grinned.</p> +<p>“Most busted dat drum for sure!” he +shouted. “If this off horse, Billy, ever put +his foot through it, good-by drum!”</p> +<p>“And there you are!” The tall man gave +Sunny Boy back his drum with a flourish. +“Just as good as new, except for a little hole +that I’m willing to bet a cookie your mother +can mend for you. Isn’t she waving for you +to come in? I thought so. You run along +now, and see if she doesn’t mend it.”</p> +<p>Mother was on the front steps watching +for him. Sunny thanked the tall man, who +said that it was nothing, nothing at all: he’d +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +never rescued a drum before, but he was glad +to have the experience, and that things always +turned out well for small boys who +stayed on the sidewalks and didn’t dash out +into the streets to get run over. Then +Sunny climbed up the steps and held out his +drum for Mother to see.</p> +<p>“The man said you could mend it,” he +said wistfully. “Can you, Mother? +’Cause when things break, I miss ’em.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton managed to hug her son, +drum and all, though there really wasn’t +much space where they stood. She was +under the awning man’s ladder, and he was +shaking and moving the large awning about. +Inside the door stood Harriet and her brush +and bucket.</p> +<p>“So, ’twas the drum!” smiled Harriet. +“I couldn’t see what it was went rolling by +me like lightning, and Sunny Boy tearing +after it. All I heard was a noise like +thunder.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p> +<p>“We’ll go up to my room and mend the +drum,” declared Mrs. Horton. “Tell Mr. +Bray I’ll telephone him about the slip-covers, +please, Harriet. I left him in the +parlor when I ran out to see what was happening +to Sunny Boy.”</p> +<p>“What,” demanded Sunny Boy, carrying +his drum upstairs—and you may be sure that +he gripped it tightly this time—“What are +slip-covers, Mother?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton laughed.</p> +<p>“Why, slip-covers are—” She thought +a minute. “They are covers for the chairs +and sofas to wear in summer,” she explained. +“Nice, cool, linen covers, you +know, for the furniture, just as you have +summer suits.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy understood. He usually did +when Mother answered his questions. And +he was very sure that she could mend his +drum.</p> +<p>“Do you know,” said Mrs. Horton, when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +she had looked at the hole, “I think, Sunny +Boy, we can mend this nicely with court-plaster?”</p> +<p>“Court-plaster?” echoed Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“I have some in the medicine closet in the +bathroom,” went on Mrs. Horton, drawing +the edges of the hole together as she talked. +“I’ll get it, dear.”</p> +<p>“It’s like mending fingers, isn’t it, +Mother?” Sunny Boy was so anxious to +watch how Mother mended the drum that +he nearly put his own pink nose in the hole. +“When Daddy cut his finger he put court-plaster +on it. He said the skin would grow +together, and it did—when he took it off, +there wasn’t any cut there. Just nothing. +Will my drum be like that?”</p> +<p>“No, precious,” answered Mother, snipping +around the edges of the court-plaster +with the fascinating sharp shears Sunny Boy +was forbidden to touch. “A drum, you +know, isn’t like a person’s skin. It can’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +grow. But I think that if you remember to +be careful the drum will last a long time. +There you are. My goodness! it makes as +much noise as ever, doesn’t it?” and Mrs. +Horton covered her ears and laughed as +Sunny Boy beat merrily on his mended +drum.</p> +<p>“Letters!” he cried a minute later as a +shrill whistle sounded. “I’ll get ’em for +you, Mother,” and downstairs again he +tumbled. Only he left the drum safely on +Mother’s bed.</p> +<p>“Two—three—ever so many,” he announced +proudly when he came back. “Are +there any for me, Mother?”</p> +<p>Like some other little folk, Sunny Boy +was always expecting letters, though he +almost never wrote any. But he meant to +write a great many as soon as he learned to +write with ink, and he was even now learning +to print nicely.</p> +<p>“None for you,” answered Mrs. Horton, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +glancing at the envelopes. “However, +here is one with something in it for you, I +suspect. Grandpa Horton has written to +us.”</p> +<p>As Mother opened this letter, a little note +fell out. That was from Grandpa Horton +to Sunny Boy. He liked to put a little +letter inside his large one, just for his grandson. +Sunny waited quietly while Mother +read her letter. When she had read it +through, she folded it and put it back in the +envelope.</p> +<p>“Sunny Boy,” she said, and her voice +made him think of the “laughing piece” she +sometimes played for him on the piano. He +looked at her and her eyes were dancing. +“Sunny Boy,” she said again, “what do you +think? We’re going to visit Grandpa +Horton on his farm—going to make him a +nice long visit and see the real country.”</p> +<p>“Oh, goody!” cried Sunny Boy. “Is +Daddy going?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p> +<p>“He’ll come to see us,” promised Mother. +“Let me read you what Grandpa has written +you, dear.”</p> +<p>Grandpa Horton’s note to Sunny told him +he was depending on him to help him with +the early haying.</p> +<p>“Wasn’t it lucky Harriet rubbed the numbers +on the front door this morning?” +chuckled Sunny Boy. “S’posing we didn’t +get this letter? Where’s Brookside, +Mother?”</p> +<p>Brookside was the name of Grandpa’s +farm. Mrs. Horton explained that it was +many miles away from the city, and that it +would take them nearly a day on the train to +get there.</p> +<p>“And if Daddy cannot go with us, you’ll +have to take care of me,” she said seriously.</p> +<p>“All right, I will,” promised Sunny Boy. +“I’ll have to go and tell Harriet an’ show her +my letter. I’ll tell the awning man, too. I +was going to help him, but I don’t feel helping, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +somehow. I feel wiggled up, you +know, Mother.”</p> +<p>“You’re excited,” said Mrs. Horton. +“Well, we don’t go for two weeks, dear, so +you’ll have plenty of time to talk about it. +I must write to Grandpa as soon as Daddy +comes home.”</p> +<p>Dashing out of the room went Sunny Boy, +crying the good news at the top of his lungs—“We’re +going to the country! We’re going +to my Grandpa’s farm! Hurrah!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_SPREADING_THE_NEWS' id='II_SPREADING_THE_NEWS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>SPREADING THE NEWS</h3> +</div> + +<p>“So you’re going off to the country?” +said Daddy, as he came whistling +down to the dining room, where Mother and +Sunny Boy were waiting for him. “Well, +I see that I’ll have to come up and teach you +how to catch a brook trout.”</p> +<p>“Did Mother tell you?” asked Sunny +Boy, as Daddy swung him into his chair and +Harriet brought in the soup to Mrs. Horton. +“When did you find out, Daddy? I was +watching for you so’s I could tell.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t see any little chap in the hall, so +I went right upstairs and found Mother. +She said you were going to Brookside, and +that the awnings were up, and the screens in, +and she hoped to go downtown to-morrow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +and buy your best shoes,” and Daddy looked +at Mother and laughed.</p> +<p>“Daddy is teasing me,” smiled Mrs. +Horton. “We have to tell him our news all +in one breath because we see so little of him, +don’t we, Sunny Boy? I do hope, Harry, +that you’ll be able to come up this summer +and spend a real vacation at your father’s.”</p> +<p>Mr. Horton was making a little well in +the mashed potato on Sunny’s plate, and +flooding it with the rich brown gravy. That +was the way <i>his</i> father had fixed his mashed +potato for him when he was a little boy, and +Sunny Boy liked his that way, too.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ll come up,” promised Mr. Horton, +passing the potato to Sunny Boy. “I’ll +have to come and show you both where I had +my garden and teach Sunny how to fool the +wise fish.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy put down his fork. He had to +wait a minute because his mouth was full +and Mother had her own opinion of a little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +boy who spoke without chewing his food +properly and swallowing it. Having +swallowed his potato, Sunny Boy was ready +to speak.</p> +<p>“Oh, Daddy!” he began eagerly, “were +you ever at Brookside? Where was your +garden? Could I drive horses?”</p> +<p>Then Daddy and Mother said the same +thing together, both at once, just as if they +were thinking the same thing, as they probably +were:</p> +<p>“Why, Sunny Boy!” said Daddy and +Mother.</p> +<p>“You can’t have forgotten,” urged Mrs. +Horton, then. “Brookside, you know, dear, +is where Daddy lived when he was a little +boy. When he was just as old as you are +now he used to play there were Indians in +the woods. I’ve told you ever so many +times, and now you are going to see the place +yourself where Daddy was a little lad like +you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></p> +<p>“Oh!” said Sunny Boy again.</p> +<p>All during the rest of the dinner he was +very busy, thinking. He had forgotten that +Daddy had lived at Brookside, or, to be more +exact, he had not understood that Grandpa’s +farm was the same farm on which Daddy had +been a little boy. Sunny Boy was only five +years old, and he had already moved three +times. One lived a long time on a farm it +seemed.</p> +<p>Soon after dinner came bed for Sunny +Boy, and he dreamed that he had fallen +head-first into his drum and that it was very +hot and dark inside. He was kicking madly +to get out, when Mother came in and found +him all wrapped up in the bed-clothes with +his head buried in the pillows. When she +drew down the covers he woke up, and after +she had tucked him in smoothly again and +brought him a drink of cool water, he went +to sleep. And the next thing that happened +was the morning. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>After breakfast, Sunny Boy went out into +the back yard to play. It wasn’t a very +large back yard, but it was pretty. There +were ferns along one side, and gay spring +flowers on the other. At one end were +Sunny Boy’s swing and sand-box, and the +center was in thick, green grass. Mondays +the grass belonged to Harriet, who used it +to walk on when she hung out the clean +clothes, but other days Sunny had the whole +yard pretty much to himself.</p> +<p>There was a little gate cut in the fence on +one side of the yard. Daddy Horton had +made the gate for Sunny Boy and Nelson +and Ruth. Nelson and Ruth were a little +boy and girl who lived next door, at least +Ruth was a little girl—she was only four +years old—but Nelson was seven and went +to school. Their last name was Baker, and +they and Sunny Boy had very good times +playing together.</p> +<p>As soon as Sunny Boy came out into his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +yard this morning, the little gate opened, +and in came Ruth, dragging Paulina, her +largest doll, by one arm.</p> +<p>“Don’t be cross,” begged Sunny Boy. “I +want to tell you something.”</p> +<p>“I’m not cross,” said Ruth with dignity. +“What made you think I was going to be?”</p> +<p>“’Cause you’re dragging Paulina and you +always treat her like that when you’re cross,” +answered Sunny more frankly than tactfully. +“Listen, Ruth—we’re going to the +country to see Grandpa Horton, and I’m going +to drive horses and go fishing, an’ help +hay, and oh, everything!”</p> +<p>Ruth was interested.</p> +<p>“Can I go fishing?” she wanted to know.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was troubled. Evidently +Ruth thought she was going to the country, +too, and it surely wouldn’t be very kind to +tell her plainly that Grandpa Horton hadn’t +invited her. To his relief Mrs. Baker called +Ruth just then and she went into her own +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +yard, still dragging the unfortunate Paulina +by one arm.</p> +<p>“Sunny Boy,” called his own mother from +an upstairs window, “Harriet is going to the +store for me—wouldn’t you like to go with +her?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy liked to go with Harriet, and +he hurried indoors to get his hat and roller +skates. Now Sunny Boy was just learning +to skate, and if he didn’t have Harriet to +hold on to he never could be quite sure what +was going to happen to him. He could go +much faster on his own two feet, but, as he +explained to Harriet, it was most important +that he should learn how to skate because +when he could skate well he would be able +to go to the store much more quickly than he +could walk. And Harriet said yes, she +understood, and that everybody had to learn +how to skate before they could become really +expert.</p> +<p>“Did you ever live on a farm, Harriet?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +asked Sunny Boy, as they started for the +store. His mind was full of the coming +visit.</p> +<p>“No,” admitted Harriet. “I never lived +on a farm. But I’ve often visited people +who did. You’ll like it. There’ll be +brooks to wade in, and little calves and +lambs to play with, and chickens and ducks. +And you can play outdoors all day long.”</p> +<p>“When it rains?” asked Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“When it rains there’ll be the barn and +the haymow,” answered Harriet. “And +now here’s Mr. Gray’s. You’d better wait +out here for me and not try to clatter in with +those skates.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy saw a basket of apples in the +window.</p> +<p>“Will you bring me an apple, Harriet?” +he teased. “Mother won’t mind. Apples +don’t hurt you.”</p> +<p>Harriet was half way through the door, +but she turned. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></p> +<p>“It’s too early for good apples yet,” she +said. “You wait till you get to Brookside, +Sunny. You’ll have more apples then than +you can possibly eat.”</p> +<p>“Millions and dozens?” called Sunny +Boy after Harriet.</p> +<p>“Yes, ‘millions and dozens,’” she echoed, +laughing, and closed the grocery store door.</p> +<p>The grocer’s boy was coming down the +steps, and he laughed, too.</p> +<p>“Millions and dozens of what?” he demanded, +stopping before Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“Apples, at my grandpa’s farm.”</p> +<p>The grocer boy had a basket on his arm +and he wore a white coat. He looked very +clean and cheerful. Sunny Boy had a sudden +idea.</p> +<p>“If you’re going up to our house, could I +hang on back of your wheel?” he said. “I +can skate pretty well if I have some one to +steer with.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think Harriet would like it,” was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +the grocer boy’s reply. He knew Sunny +Boy and Harriet because he often came to +their house to bring good things to eat. +“I’ll tell you, Sunny Boy—you wait till you +come back from this visit, and then I’ll take +you. Or perhaps after you’ve eaten the +millions and dozens of apples you won’t +have to hang on to any one—you’ll be big +and strong and able to skate by yourself.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy watched him ride merrily off +on his bicycle. Still Harriet didn’t come. +Sunny suspected there must be a good many +people waiting in the store. He might +skate down to the corner and back before she +had bought all the things on Mother’s list.</p> +<p>It was all very well for the first few yards, +because there was a convenient iron railing +to cling to, and Sunny Boy found himself +skating very easily. But the iron railing +ended in a stone stoop, and after that there +seemed to be nothing but miles and miles +of pavement without even a friendly tree to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +cling to. Sunny Boy’s feet began to behave +queerly. One went much faster than the +other and in an entirely different direction, +and he had an idea he’d have to wear those +skates the rest of his life because he didn’t +see how he was ever going to stop to take +them off.</p> +<p>Suddenly he found himself headed for an +area-way and a flight of stone steps. He +clutched desperately at the cellar window, +shot past, and down the steps—bing! into a +huge basket of clothes a fat colored woman +was bringing up. She was as wide as the +basket and the basket took up about all the +area-way.</p> +<p>“Land sakes, chile!” she said, as Sunny +Boy landed on top of her basket. “Where +you goin’?”</p> +<p>“Skating,” said Sunny Boy concisely, glad +to find that he wasn’t hurt.</p> +<p>The colored woman laughed, a deep, rich, +happy laugh. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span></p> +<p>“You doan seem to be jest sure,” she told +him. “Stay where you is an’ I’ll carry you +on up.”</p> +<p>She did, too, and started him on his uncertain +way down the street. In a few +minutes his feet began to act strangely again, +this time sending him in the general direction +of the gutter.</p> +<p>“I spect I’d better go back,” said Sunny +Boy to himself. But he couldn’t turn +around.</p> +<p>Then up the street came a familiar gray-uniformed +figure. It was the postman, the +same merry, kind postman who brought +letters to Sunny Boy’s house and for whom +Harriet was careful to have the number on +the front door bright and shining.</p> +<p>“Stop me!” cried Sunny Boy, wobbling +more wildly.</p> +<p>“Right—O!” agreed the postman, and +proceeded to stop him by letting Sunny Boy +skate right into him and his mail bag. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span></p> +<p>“And that’s all right,” said the cheerful +postman, blowing his whistle and slipping +some letters into a mail-box in a doorway as +if nothing had happened. “Don’t you want +to skate back with me?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy, seated on a handy doorstep, +was unbuckling the skate straps. He +looked up and smiled.</p> +<p>“Thank you very much, but Harriet’s +waiting for me,” he answered politely. +“An’ I have to carry my skates, ’cause she +won’t let me hold the eggs ’less I walk.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_PACKING_THE_TRUNK' id='III_PACKING_THE_TRUNK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>PACKING THE TRUNK</h3> +</div> + +<p>Aunt Bessie sat on the floor of +Mother’s room, with pencil and paper +in her lap. She was Mrs. Horton’s sister, +and though she did not live with them, +Sunny Boy and Mother saw her nearly every +day.</p> +<p>“I wonder if you will need that extra +coat?” Aunt Bessie was saying, as Sunny +Boy came into the room.</p> +<p>For the two weeks were nearly gone and it +was time to get ready to go to see Grandpa +Horton. Early that morning Daddy had +brought down the big trunk from the storeroom, +and ever since breakfast Mother and +Aunt Bessie had been busy packing clothes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +into it. Aunt Bessie kept a list of the things +they put in so that Mother would be able to +tell when the trunk was full whether she had +left out anything she needed.</p> +<p>“I’ll go and get my things,” announced +Sunny Boy, and Aunt Bessie blew him a kiss +and went on with her work.</p> +<p>Upstairs Sunny Boy looked a long time +at his toys before he could decide what to +do about them. He couldn’t leave his +kiddie-car, that was certain. And there was +the woolly black dog he took to bed with him +at night, and a Teddy Bear that he was +almost too old to play with, but not quite, +and the wooden blocks. Then he would be +sure to need his fire-engine and the roller +skates. He must take all those with him. +He made three trips down to Mother’s door +with the toys, and then, going down for the +third time, he remembered the wind-mill out +in the sand-box and ran out after that and +brought it in. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></p> +<p>“Bless the child, what is all this?” cried +Aunt Bessie, as he came into Mother’s room, +bringing as many of the treasures as he +could carry at one time.</p> +<p>“I’m helping,” explained Sunny Boy. +“There’s more out in the hall.”</p> +<p>He put down his load and ran out to bring +in the rest.</p> +<p>“But, precious,” said Mrs. Horton, looking +from the kiddie-car to her little son, +“we can’t take all these things with us. +Why, Mother wouldn’t have a place to put +your socks and blouses, to say nothing of the +cunning bathing-suit we bought yesterday.”</p> +<p>“You won’t need them, you know,” urged +Aunt Bessie. “You’ll be so busy playing +with the new things you’ll find up at Grandpa +Horton’s that you’ll probably never remember +the toys at home. Then when you +come back they will seem like new ones.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was disappointed. His kiddie-car +was the hardest to give up. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +woolly dog, too, was very dear to him. Mrs. +Horton understood, and she sat down in her +low rocking chair and took her little boy on +her lap.</p> +<p>“The kiddie-car wouldn’t be any fun in +the country,” she said. “There are no stone +pavements, you see, dear, and it wouldn’t +run on the grass. As for the woolly dog, +why you will have a real dog to play with—a +collie dog that will run after sticks and +bring them to you and take walks with you. +That will be fun, won’t it?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy slid to the floor and stood up. +He was excited.</p> +<p>“I am simply crazy to have a real dog,” he +declared.</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton stared at him, but Aunt +Bessie, bending over the trunk, sat down on +the edge and laughed.</p> +<p>“Where in the world did you hear that, +Sunny Boy?” asked Mother. “Who talks +like that?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>Aunt Bessie swooped down upon her +nephew.</p> +<p>“I do,” she told her sister. “But I’ll have +to be more careful when little pitchers with +big ears are about. Why don’t you copy the +nice things I say, Sunny?”</p> +<p>“Isn’t that nice?” puzzled Sunny. +“Shouldn’t I say it? Why not, Mother?”</p> +<p>“It isn’t wrong, dear,” Mrs. Horton +assured him. “Aunt Bessie only means +that speaking that way is rather a bad habit +to get into. We call it exaggeration. Let +me see, how shall I make you understand? +Well, if I say ‘I’m starving to death,’ when +I mean that I am hungrier than usual for +dinner, that’s exaggeration. I couldn’t be +starving, unless I had had nothing to eat for +several days.”</p> +<p>“And though some people think I’m crazy, +I’m really not,” concluded Aunt Bessie +gayly. “You think I’m rather nice, don’t +you, Sunny? And now I wonder if there’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +a young man about who would be kind +enough to take this skirt down to Harriet +and ask her to please press the hem?”</p> +<p>“I will,” offered Sunny Boy. “And then +I’ll come back and put my things away.”</p> +<p>“While you are down in the kitchen, I +wish you’d ask Harriet if the oven is ready +for me to make some biscuits for lunch,” said +Mrs. Horton. “And tell her I said you +might have a glass of milk and one of the +sponge cakes without any pink icing.”</p> +<p>Harriet pressed the skirt while Sunny Boy +sat at one end of the ironing board and +watched her and ate his sponge cake—which +was almost as good as the kind with pink +icing which were only for dessert—and +drank his milk. Then Harriet gave him the +skirt to carry back to Aunt Bessie and he +remembered to ask about the oven. Harriet +said to tell Mother that it was just right for +baking biscuits.</p> +<p>“That means I must go down right away,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +said Mrs. Horton, when Sunny Boy told her. +“We’ve about finished anyway, haven’t we, +Bessie? The man is to come at three this +afternoon for the trunk.”</p> +<p>“I’ve left a few chinks and corners, in case +you want to tuck in some little trifles at the +last minute,” replied Aunt Bessie, “but +otherwise it’s ready to be strapped and +locked.”</p> +<p>“Let me lock it,” said Sunny Boy eagerly. +“I can stand on the top, too. I did for +Cousin Lola when hers wouldn’t shut.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton was tying on a nice clean +white apron.</p> +<p>“Thank you, dearest,” she said. “Mother +isn’t quite ready to have the trunk locked. +If we’ve packed it so full it won’t close, why +of course I’ll call on you to stand on the top +and make it shut.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy hoped the trunk wouldn’t +close, for he wanted to dance on the top. +Then Mrs. Horton went down to Harriet’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +kitchen to make puffy white biscuits for lunch +and Aunt Bessie went off to give a music +lesson.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy, left to put away his toys, explained +matters to the woolly dog as he +carried him upstairs.</p> +<p>“There will be a real dog for me to play +with at Grandpa’s,” he said. “And little +calves and lambs—Harriet said so. Maybe +you might get broken in the trunk, anyway. +But I won’t like the real dog one bit more +than I do you, and when we come back you +can sleep with me every single night.”</p> +<p>The woolly dog seemed to think this was +all right, and he took it so cheerfully that +Sunny Boy felt better immediately.</p> +<p>Mr. Horton came home to lunch, which +was unusual, and after lunch he and Mrs. +Horton had to go downtown to see about the +tickets and the parlor car seats for the trip +the next day. Sunny Boy was to take his +nap and be wide awake again by three +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +o’clock, when the man was coming to take +their trunk to the station.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy did not see how they were to +find the trunk again if they once let it go, +for surely no trunk could go all alone to +Brookside. He resolved to ask Daddy. +While he was wondering if there would be +a piano in the parlor car—and he rather +hoped there would and that he might be allowed +to play on it—Sunny Boy fell asleep. +Harriet, coming upstairs with a pile of clean +clothes, woke him.</p> +<p>“Is it three o’clock?” he asked, afraid that +he had missed the trunk man.</p> +<p>“Only half-past two,” answered Harriet. +“Your mother will be back any minute now +to lock the trunk. You can dress yourself, +can’t you? I’ve another tablecloth to iron +yet.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy could dress himself, of course. +Wandering into Mother’s room to borrow +her hairbrush, he saw the little nickel alarm +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +clock on the table. Mother must have +meant to pack that, and in her hurry had forgotten. +Sunny Boy remembered that +Daddy had told him all country folk “rose +with the chickens,” and upon inquiry he had +learned that the chickens rose very early +indeed—almost as soon as the sun. Sunny +Boy thought it would be dreadful if he and +Mother should oversleep their first morning +at the farm and come downstairs to find the +chickens up and the farmer people laughing +at them. Yes, the alarm clock certainly +must go.</p> +<p>He had not a very clear idea of how one +went about it to set an alarm clock, but +Daddy, he remembered, always wound the +little pegs in the back. So Sunny Boy +trustingly wound all the pegs he saw, as +tight as they would turn, and tucked the +clock away down deep in one of the corner +holes Aunt Bessie had left in the trunk.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +<img src='images/sunny-045.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 334px; height: 500px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 334px;'> +And tucked the clock away down deep in one of the corner holes Aunt Bessie had left in the trunk.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></div> +<p>He had hardly packed it in when Mother +came running breathlessly up the stairs crying +that the express wagon was at the door. +Hurriedly she put down the trunk lid, +locked it, and tied on the tag that Daddy had +written for her.</p> +<p>“That tells the train folks what to do with +it,” explained the trunk man to Sunny, +swinging the heavy trunk to his shoulder as +though it weighed no more than the kiddie-car +and trotting downstairs with it.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy watched him put it in the +wagon and drive away.</p> +<p>“Now we’re almost ready,” said Mrs. +Horton smilingly. “We have to pack our +bag and go to bed early, and then, in the +morning, we really will be on our way to +Grandpa Horton’s.”</p> +<p>“But there’s the canary,” Sunny Boy reminded +her hesitatingly. “Can I carry +him?”</p> +<p>“The train would frighten him so he +might never sing any more,” said Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +Horton. “No, Aunt Bessie is going to keep +him for us till we come back.”</p> +<p>“Well, let’s go now,” urged Sunny. +“Why can’t we go this minute? Let’s, +Mother.”</p> +<p>“And have Daddy come home to dinner +to-night and find us gone?” said Mother reproachfully. +“Why, Sunny!”</p> +<p>“Well—then perhaps we’d better wait,” +admitted Sunny Boy. “But one whole +night’s an awful long time, isn’t it?”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_OFF_FOR_BROOKSIDE' id='IV_OFF_FOR_BROOKSIDE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>OFF FOR BROOKSIDE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Perhaps the most fun of going on a +journey is the fun of starting.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy began to get excited the +moment he opened his eyes the next morning, +and if he had had his way, they wouldn’t +have bothered with such an every-day affair +as breakfast. One could eat breakfast any +morning, but a trip on the train to one’s +grandfather’s farm was much more important.</p> +<p>However, Daddy explained that all experienced +travelers ate a good breakfast before +they set out, and as Sunny Boy wanted +above all things to do as real travelers did, +he consented to sit down and be interested +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +for a few moments in his blue oatmeal bowl +and its contents.</p> +<p>“You look so nice, Mother,” he told Mrs. +Horton suddenly.</p> +<p>“So do you,” she assured him, smiling. +“I think it must be because we are both wearing +our new blue serge suits.”</p> +<p>“Remember, you’re going to take care of +my girl,” warned Daddy. “Don’t let her +get too tired, and try to make her comfortable, +and don’t let any one or anything +bother her.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy gravely promised to look after +Mother. He felt very proud that Daddy +trusted him to take care of her on their first +long journey together, and he resolved to +wait on her all he could and to save her every +possible step.</p> +<p>Harriet, who was not going with them, +but who was going to help Aunt Bessie keep +house until they came back, was bustling +about, pulling down shades and closing and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +locking doors. The canary had gone, and +Sunny Boy had a funny feeling that their +house was going on a journey, too. In his +trotting around after Harriet, while Mother +was telephoning a last good-by to some +friend, he found a square white box on the +parlor table, neatly tied with red string—one +of that mysterious kind that makes your +fingers fairly itch to untie the string and +look inside. Sunny Boy went in search of +Mother.</p> +<p>“Could I open it?” he asked coaxingly. +“I’ll tie it right up again, Mother. Maybe +you have forgotten what is in it.”</p> +<p>“’Deed I haven’t!” laughed Mrs. Horton. +“Give it to me, dear. It’s a surprise for you—we’ll +open it on the train.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy obediently handed her the +package, and in a few minutes he had forgotten +all about it.</p> +<p>At last the house was ready to leave, and +Harriet kissed him and said good-by. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +Sunny Boy watched her down the street until +she turned the corner. He had a little ache +in his throat, but he was too big a boy to cry.</p> +<p>“Precious,” said Mother who knew perhaps +how he was feeling, “I’m afraid I’ve +left my little coin purse on my bureau. +Would you mind going up and getting it +for me?”</p> +<p>The house upstairs was very still and hot. +Sunny Boy tiptoed softly as he hurried into +Mother’s room. There on the bureau lay +the little silver purse and a clean handkerchief +that smelled like a bunch of violets.</p> +<p>“You left your hanky, Mother,” he cried, +running downstairs. “And you said folks +should never, never, begin to go anywhere +without a clean hanky, you know.”</p> +<p>Mr. Horton, standing on the front step, +opened the screen door and put in his head.</p> +<p>“Taxi’s coming!” he announced. +“Ready, Olive? I have the bag right here. +Come, son.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>Sunny Boy was thrilled at the thought of +riding in that orange dragon of an automobile. +Mother and Daddy had friends +who often took them motoring pleasant +afternoons, and sometimes Sunny Boy went +with them. But every one knows that is +different from having a gay colored car roll +up to your front door and wait especially for +you.</p> +<p>The young man who drove the car opened +the door with a flourish and helped Mrs. +Horton in. Then he turned to lift Sunny +Boy, but that young person hung back.</p> +<p>“I could ride with you—up front,” he +suggested.</p> +<p>“Oh, you might tumble out, going around +the corner,” cried Mrs. Horton.</p> +<p>Daddy, who had been locking the front +door, came down to them, carrying the black +leather bag that was to go with Sunny Boy +and Mother.</p> +<p>“Do you know,” said Daddy slowly, “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +think the bag will have to go in the front +seat, Sunny? I wouldn’t like to put it +down on Mother’s pretty new patent leather +pumps. Sometime when we have no baggage +you shall ride with the chauffeur.”</p> +<p>So Sunny Boy climbed in and sat between +Mother and Daddy, and the chauffeur just +touched his wheel and they shot off up the +street. Indeed they started so suddenly +that Sunny Boy went over backward and +laughed so hard that he quite forgot to be +disappointed because he could not sit on the +front seat.</p> +<p>“What’s in the bag, Mother?” he asked, +as they rolled along through the streets.</p> +<p>“Hair-brushes and combs and towels and +soap, and your tooth-brush and mine, and +the tooth-paste,” answered Mrs. Horton. +“And pajamas for you and a nightie for me, +in case we can’t get the trunk to-night.”</p> +<p>“But it is going on the train just like us,” +urged Sunny Boy. “Daddy said so.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></p> +<p>“But it will be nearly night before we +reach Brookside,” explained Mrs. Horton, +“and Grandpa will meet us with a horse and +surrey most likely. We will have to leave +the trunk at the station till some one can go +and get it for us in the morning. I have a +play suit in the bag for you, though, so trunk +or no trunk, you can be real country boy.”</p> +<p>Presently the taxi rolled up under a stone +arch, and Mr. Horton said they were at the +station. They all got out and went into +a great space filled with people. Porters +were rushing about with suitcases and bags, +crowds of men and women were going in +several directions at once, and a man running +for his train nearly ran right over +Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“I’ll get the trunk checked and then give +you the tickets,” Mr. Horton said to his wife. +“You sit down over there by the door where +I can find you, and I’ll be back in five +minutes. We have plenty of time.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p> +<p>Sunny Boy and Mother sat down by the +door and watched the people. Opposite +them sat a short, fat woman with a baby in +her arms and five little children, two girls +and three boys, in the seats nearest her. +They were each sucking a lolly-pop and took +turns giving the baby a taste. Although +they were very sticky and not exactly tidy, +they seemed to love one another very much +and to be having a very good time.</p> +<p>“Where do you suppose they’re going?” +Sunny Boy asked.</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton did not know. Perhaps, if +they watched them, they might see them take +the train.</p> +<p>Then Sunny Boy wanted to know where +they kept the trains. He could hear them, +and nearly every minute a man with a big +trumpet—which Mother said was a megaphone—would +call out something, and +from all over the station people would come +rushing to get on the train. But though +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +Sunny Boy watched carefully, he could not +see a single smokestack.</p> +<p>“The trains are downstairs—you’ll see +when we go out,” said Mrs. Horton. “I +wonder what can be keeping your father? +He has been gone almost fifteen minutes.”</p> +<p>“Will there be a piano in the parlor +car?” Sunny Boy wanted to know next.</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton laughed merrily.</p> +<p>“A parlor car is like the rest of the cars in +a train, except that the seats are more comfortable,” +she explained. “Anyway, we +have to go in an ordinary coach, because +Daddy and I couldn’t get a single parlor car +seat yesterday. They had all been taken. +I don’t see what can have happened to +Daddy!”</p> +<p>Just then Mr. Horton came up to them. +There was a baggage man with him and they +both looked rather excited.</p> +<p>“I guess you’ll have to come over to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +baggage room, Olive,” said Mr. Horton in +a low voice, “and see what you can do about +straightening out this mess. They want to +know what you’ve packed in the trunk.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy clung tightly to Mother’s hand +while they walked over to a low, broad window +on one side of the station wall. This +opened into the baggage room, and a perfect +ocean of trunks was being tossed about in +there. The pink came into Mother’s cheeks +as she saw the crowd gathered about the +window.</p> +<p>“You see, Ma’am,” said the big, tall man +at the window in a gruff voice that was somehow +kind and friendly, too, “it’s like this—we +figure out something blew up in that +trunk of yours about ten o’clock last night, +and naturally we want to know something +about it. In fact, we can’t check the trunk +for you until we do. A dozen men heard +it, and—”</p> +<p>“But I don’t understand,” protested Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +Horton. “I packed nothing that could possibly +blow up, as you say. My sister and I +put everything in with our own hands. I +even have a list. I can show you that—” +she fumbled in her velvet handbag with +fingers that trembled.</p> +<p>“Probably an infernal machine,” declared +a shrill voice in the crowd that was now +growing too large for comfort. “With the +country in the unsettled state it is now, you +can look for anything.”</p> +<p>“What’s a ’fernal ’chine?” asked Sunny +Boy boldly.</p> +<p>“Like a bomb—it goes off with a whang,” +answered a freckle-faced boy standing near. +He reminded Sunny of his friend, the +grocery boy.</p> +<p>The words, “Goes off with a whang,” reminded +Sunny Boy of something, though. +He looked up into the friendly blue eyes of +the baggage-window man.</p> +<p>“Maybe—” began Sunny Boy, “Maybe, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +I guess it was the alarm clock I packed!” he +finished bravely.</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll be hanged!” said the baggage-window +man. His blue eyes crinkled.</p> +<p>The crowd had heard, and a ripple of +laughter ran through them. As suddenly as +they had gathered, they melted away.</p> +<p>“Let me have your tickets,” said the baggage-window +man. “I guess you can still +make the ten-forty-five.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_ON_THE_TRAIN' id='V_ON_THE_TRAIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>ON THE TRAIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Well, though, as Mr. Horton expressed +it, they “had to hustle,” +they did make the ten-forty-five. They +went down in an elevator to board the train +and the ticket man at the gate would not let +Mr. Horton through.</p> +<p>Daddy hugged his little boy tight before +he let him go, and Mother had diamonds in +her pretty brown eyes as she turned from +saying good-by to him. But when they +looked back to wave to him, there was Daddy +smiling gayly at them and waving his hat.</p> +<p>“Have a fine time,” he called. “Take +care of Mother, Sunny Boy. And look for +me exactly three weeks from to-day.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p> +<p>Sunny Boy and Mother found a seat after +they had walked through a number of cars +that were filled, and, though it was rather +dark, Sunny Boy could make out the people +near them.</p> +<p>“Look, Mother,” he whispered, “there’s +the woman with the baby and the other +children we saw in the station. Isn’t it +funny they took our train?”</p> +<p>Sure enough, there they were, a little +further down the aisle on the other side of +the car, lolly-pops and all.</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton took off her hat and Sunny +Boy’s and put them in a large paper bag she +took from her bag.</p> +<p>“That will keep them clean,” she said, +“and we shall be cooler and more comfortable +without them. We may have to shut +the window when we get out of the tunnel, +but we need the air now. Now we’re off! +Hear the conductor calling?”</p> +<p>“All a-bo-ard,” Sunny Boy heard some one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +crying. “All a-bo-ard!” and soon the train +began to move.</p> +<p>Slowly they rumbled out of the dark gray +of the train shed, past so many snorting, +sniffing black iron engines that Sunny Boy +did not see why they did not run into each +other, past a crew of men working on the +railroad tracks, past red and green lights, +into a tunnel without a roof, but walled high +on either side with smooth concrete walls. +Just as Sunny Boy grew tired of looking at +this wall, it stopped, and the train was +merrily rushing along through open streets. +Sunny Boy looked at Mother and smiled.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it fun?” she said.</p> +<p>For a long time Sunny Boy amused himself +by watching the country through which +they were riding. They passed one or two +little stations without stopping, and at the +crossings Sunny Boy saw children waving to +the train. He waved to them and hoped +that they saw him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></p> +<p>“Tickets!” The conductor had reached +their car.</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton took a ticket from her bag +and gave it to her son. He held it out and +the conductor punched it and passed on.</p> +<p>“Do you want me to keep it?” he asked.</p> +<p>“I’ll put it in my purse so it can’t be lost,” +Mother answered. “But when the conductor +asks for it again you may give it to +him. He won’t come again for ever so +long.”</p> +<p>As Sunny Boy was watching an automobile +racing with the train on a road that +ran alongside the tracks, a white-aproned +colored man came into their car.</p> +<p>“First call for lunch!” he shouted. +“First call for lunch!”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy felt suddenly hungry. Down +the aisle the woman with all the children had +opened a pasteboard box and they were having +a picnic right there. Other people were +eating sandwiches. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></p> +<p>“We’ll go and get our lunch,” decided +Mrs. Horton. “Be careful going down the +aisle, dear, and don’t bump into people any +more than you can help.”</p> +<p>They had to go through a parlor car to +reach the dining car, and Sunny Boy saw for +himself that there was no piano, nothing but +chairs on either side of the aisle. A colored +waiter helped him into his seat at a little +table in the dining car, and he thought it +great fun to eat chicken broth while looking +out of the window at the telegraph poles galloping +by. The poles seemed to be moving +instead of the train, but Sunny Boy knew +the train really moved.</p> +<p>“Will there be another call for lunch?” he +asked, remembering what the man had +shouted, as he ate his mashed potato and +peas.</p> +<p>“Oh yes, but we won’t come,” said Mrs. +Horton. “That will be for the people who +weren’t hungry when we were.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></p> +<p>A man at the table across from theirs +picked up the menu card.</p> +<p>“Now what on earth shall I order for +dessert?” he frowned. “If the doctor won’t +let me have meat, I suppose I have to eat +something.”</p> +<p>“Chocolate ice-cream,” suggested Sunny +Boy helpfully, feeling sorry for any one who +did not know that it was the finest dessert in +the world.</p> +<p>The frown slid away from the man’s face +and he grinned cheerfully at the small +boy.</p> +<p>“Is that what you are going to have?” he +demanded. “All right then, I will, too.”</p> +<p>And when it came, a neat little mountain +of it, he and Sunny smiled again at each +other before they buried their silver spoons +in the beautiful dark iciness of it.</p> +<p>Back in their seat in their car, Sunny was +restless. To Mother’s suggestion that he +take a nap, he said that he didn’t feel sleepy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +He wished he had something to do—he was +tired of looking at trees and things.</p> +<p>“I hoped you would take a little nap, but +I suppose there is too much excitement,” +said Mrs. Horton. “Well, then, how would +you like to see the surprise now?”</p> +<p>“The surprise?” repeated Sunny Boy. +“Oh, Mother—is that the box?”</p> +<p>For answer Mrs. Horton opened the +leather bag and took out the box neatly +wrapped in white paper that Sunny Boy had +seen on the parlor table at home. She put +it in his lap and then took up the magazine +she was reading.</p> +<p>“Oh my!” said Sunny Boy, when he had +pulled off string and paper and lifted the lid.</p> +<p>Inside the box were six little packages, +each wrapped in white paper and tied with +pink string. It was like Christmas. Sunny +Boy unwrapped them all, one after another, +and underneath he found two long thin +boxes, also wrapped and tied. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></p> +<p>In the first package he found a box of +colored crayons; in another, a little pad of +drawing paper; another held an envelope +stamped and addressed and a sheet of writing +paper. In another was a lead pencil; +the fifth was a cake of sweet chocolate, and +the sixth package was a little lump of modeling +wax. The two long thin packages +proved to be boxes of animal crackers.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was chiefly interested in the +envelope, because he could not read the writing +on it.</p> +<p>“Who’s it to, Mother?” he urged. +“Your writing runs into letters so I can’t +read it.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton explained that the envelope +was addressed to Daddy, and that she +thought she and Sunny Boy might write a +little note to him and that he would have +it in the morning.</p> +<p>“Is there a mail-box on the train?” asked +Sunny, in surprise. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span></p> +<p>“No, dear. But we will give it to the +conductor and he will see that it is mailed at +the next station where we stop. You print +on one side of the sheet, and I will write a +little message on the other.”</p> +<p>So, taking great pains and holding the +pencil very tightly because the motion of the +train made it wobble in his fingers, Sunny +Boy printed this:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>DEER DADDY: I LOV YOU.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>WE ARE HAVING A NICE TIME</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>ON THE TRANE. I AM TAKING</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>CARE OF MOTHER. YOUR</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>LOVING SUN, SUNNY BOY.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Then Mother wrote her note, and they +folded it up and sealed the letter and Sunny +gave it to the conductor when he next came +through.</p> +<p>After that he drew pictures and colored +them with the crayons and nibbled at his +chocolate and modeled dogs and cats and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +horses with the wax. He opened the cracker +boxes, too, and played Noah’s ark with them. +The children down the aisle watched him +and nudged each other. Their mother +would not let them out into the aisle, or very +likely they would have come closer to see +what that boy was doing with so many nice +things.</p> +<p>“I’d like, Mother,” announced Sunny Boy +suddenly, “to pass my crackers to the little +boy with the green tie—he looks like Nelson +Baker. Would that be all right?”</p> +<p>“Why, of course,” agreed Mrs. Horton. +“Ask their mother if she is willing for them +to have some, and give some to each child, +dear. And don’t stay too long, because I +shall miss you.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy went down the aisle to the +seats where the children were. The lolly-pops +had disappeared long ago, and so had +the picnic sandwiches. They were all +stickier than ever, were those children. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +heavy baby was asleep in his mother’s lap, +and she smiled when Sunny asked her if she +were willing he should pass his crackers.</p> +<p>“Thank you, they’d like ’em first-rate,” +she said, speaking low so as not to wake the +baby. “Mamie, Ellen, Jamie, Fred, George—say +thank you, and don’t grab.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy stayed a little while, talking +to them all, and they told him they were going +to another state far away. They would +be all night on the train. Sunny Boy was a +bit disappointed that he must get off at +Cloverways, the nearest station to Grandpa’s +farm, for he had never stayed all night +on a train in his life. He hurried back to +Mother to tell her of the fortunate family +who were to spend the night on the train.</p> +<p>“That poor woman!” Mother, to his +astonishment, exclaimed. “She’ll be worn +out before she gets all those children safely +somewhere. Think of sitting up all night +with that fretful baby! I’ll tell you, Sunny +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +Boy—we get off in about half an hour now; +wouldn’t you like to leave your surprise +package to amuse those children who are going +farther than we are? I’ll help you tie +them up again, and I have two more cakes +of chocolate in the bag. You are so careful +with your things they are not hurt at all, and +it will keep them busy for an hour or two, +playing with them.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy thought this a fine plan, and +he hardly had all the packages tied up and in +the box again when Mrs. Horton pinned on +her hat and gave him his, saying that the +next station was theirs. She went down the +aisle with him and they gave the surprise box +to the five youngsters who were delighted to +have something new to look at. And then +the train stopped, and the brakeman lifted +Sunny Boy down, and he found an old +gentleman was kissing Mother.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_BROOKSIDE' id='VI_BROOKSIDE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>BROOKSIDE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Sunny Boy found himself looking +into two dark eyes so much like +Daddy’s that he almost jumped. But the +rest of the old gentleman was not like +Daddy—no indeed. He was short and +round instead of tall, and he had the curliest +white hair and beard Sunny Boy had ever +seen. Sunny Boy knew this must be +Grandpa Horton, and when he was lifted up +in a pair of strong arms and given a tremendous +hug before being gently set down, +he decided that he loved him very much.</p> +<p>“Grandma couldn’t come,” explained +Grandpa, leading the way to an old-fashioned +carriage and pair of horses drawn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +up at the other end of the station. “There’s +only Araminta to help her with the supper, +and Grandma’s heart was set on having the +biscuits just right. In you go, Olive. +Wait a minute, though, what about your +trunk?”</p> +<p>“I have the check, Father,” Mrs. Horton +answered. “I thought Jimmie would be +coming down in the morning to the creamery. +He can get it then.”</p> +<p>“An’ Mother brought her nightie in the +bag an’ my pajamas,” contributed Sunny +Boy, waiting while Mother and the bag were +stowed away on the back seat.</p> +<p>“Want to ride up with me and help +drive?” said Grandpa, turning to him suddenly.</p> +<p>Poor Sunny Boy was sorely tempted, but +he decided quickly.</p> +<p>“I have to take care of Mother,” he said. +“She might be lonesome all alone in the +back.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p> +<p>“No, indeed,” cried Mother instantly. +“You ride up there with Grandpa, precious. +You were so good not to tease about the +taxi. I’ll lean over the seat and talk to you +both.”</p> +<p>So Sunny Boy and Grandpa got into the +front seat, and Sunny learned that the +horses’ names were Paul and Peter, and that +they were not afraid of automobiles, and +that he could drive them whenever some +older person was with him. Paul and +Peter trotted briskly along, and Grandpa +said they knew they were going home to supper.</p> +<p>They drove through the town, and Sunny +Boy thought it looked very cool, and clean, +and pretty, after the warm and dusty train. +The grass was bright green, and, as Sunny +Boy wrote Harriet, “millions and dozens” of +robins were singing among the trees. A +great red sun was going to bed back of a high +dark hill, and Sunny Boy, sitting beside +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +Grandpa and holding the reins while Paul +and Peter trotted steadily, thought that the +country was the nicest place he had ever +been in.</p> +<p>Then, where the road divided, Grandpa +took the reins and turned the team to the +left. They entered a lane with white-washed +fences on either side and tall waving trees +like soldiers, which Mrs. Horton said were +elms.</p> +<p>“Now, Sunny Boy,” she told him softly, +“here’s Brookside.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy saw an old red brick house with +a great white porch across the front and a +green lawn all about it. A white picket +fence went all around the lawn, and as +Grandpa stopped the horses before the gate, +three people came out. There was a tall, +thin young man who went to the horses’ +heads, a little girl with flaming red hair who +looked about fourteen years old, and a tall, +thin old lady with hair as white and curly as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +Grandpa’s, who came out to the carriage and +took Mother and Sunny Boy both in her +arms at once.</p> +<p>“You’re Grandma,” said Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>It was Grandma Horton, and she remembered +Sunny Boy without a bit of trouble; +though, as he had been only two weeks old +the last time she had seen him, he could not +be expected to remember her.</p> +<p>“And this is Araminta,” said Grandma, +drawing the little red-haired girl forward. +“She is my right hand in the house. You +recall Jimmie, Olive?”</p> +<p>Jimmie was the young man holding the +horses. He came and shook hands with +Mrs. Horton, blushing a little, and chucked +Sunny under the chin. Then he took the +team away to the barn, and Mother and +Sunny Boy and Grandpa and Grandma +Horton and Araminta went in to supper.</p> +<p>They had wonderful fresh foamy milk to +drink, and hot biscuits and cold ham for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +grown-ups. Sunny Boy was not expected +to eat those—not at night. There were +baked apples, too, and honey and cookies. +Sunny, seated before a bowl of bread and +milk, held a cookie in his hand and wondered +what was the matter with the hanging lamp +with the pretty red shade. It swung up and +down like a train lantern.</p> +<p>“He’s sleepy,” he heard some one say. It +sounded like Araminta.</p> +<p>He opened his eyes as wide as he could +make them go, tried to take another bite of +cookie and made one last desperate effort to +smile. The smile ran into a yawn, and +Sunny Boy gave up and tumbled, a tired +little ball of weariness, into Mother’s lap.</p> +<p>He never knew who carried him upstairs, +or when he was undressed. So, waking in +the morning to find the sun shining in four +windows at once, and Mother in her blue +dressing gown brushing her hair, he was a bit +surprised. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p> +<p>“Hello!” said Mother gayly. “How do +you think you are going to like the country?”</p> +<p>“Are the chickens up?” asked Sunny +Boy.</p> +<p>“Hours ago. Mr. Rooster crowing under +our window woke me up at five o’clock,” replied +Mrs. Horton. “I heard Jimmie bring +in the milk a few minutes before you sat up. +And if you want to ride into town with him +after the trunk—”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy jumped out of bed and fairly +galloped with his dressing. He insisted on +using the wash bowl and pitcher, though +there was a nice white bathroom down the +hall, because a wash bowl and pitcher were +new to him. Just as he had finished brushing +his hair, Araminta rapped at the door to +tell them breakfast was ready.</p> +<p>In the dining room Sunny Boy met +another member of the family. Lying on a +rug in the corner was a shaggy brown and +white collie that rose as they came in and, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +coming over to Mrs. Horton, laid a beautiful +pointed nose in her lap.</p> +<p>“We shut him in the barn last night, because +we thought you’d be too tired to stand +his barking,” said Grandma. “His name is +Bruce, and he is very gentle. Don’t be +afraid of him, Sunny Boy.”</p> +<p>The collie went back to his rug while they +were at breakfast, but when Jimmie and +Sunny Boy started for the door he got up +to follow them.</p> +<p>“Is he going, too?” asked Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“He never goes off the farm,” answered +Jimmie. “He’ll follow us to the end of the +lane and then go back. Hop in lively, now, +for we’re late as it is.”</p> +<p>Jimmie had harnessed Peter to a wagon +that had only one high seat. In back of this +were two cans of milk which Jimmie explained, +in answer to Sunny’s questions, +would be made into butter at the creamery +in Cloverways. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p> +<p>“Is Araminta your sister?” Sunny Boy +asked him as they jogged along.</p> +<p>“No, she’s the tenant farmer’s daughter—the +man who does the farming for your +Grandpa, you know. I work Spring and +Summer for him and in Winter I go to +the agricultural school. That’s where they +teach you to be a farmer.”</p> +<p>After they left the milk at the creamery +they drove down to the station and got the +trunk. Sunny Boy told Jimmie about the +alarm clock, and he laughed. Then, after +stopping at a yellow store with high white +steps, where Jimmie bought some groceries +for Grandma, they turned Peter’s head +toward home.</p> +<p>“What are you going to do first?” asked +Jimmie, smiling down at his small companion.</p> +<p>“I don’t know—what are you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I have work to do—have to weed the +garden this morning. But you have the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +whole farm to get acquainted with. I’ll tell +you—if I were you, I’d go down to the brook +and play.”</p> +<p>“I guess I will,” decided Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton wanted to unpack the trunk, +and when Grandma assured her that the +brook was not deep and Sunny Boy promised +not to go wading until she should be there, +she kissed him and told him to run along and +have a good time.</p> +<p>On his way to the brook, Sunny Boy +passed Grandpa and Jimmie in wide straw +hats working in the garden. Grandpa +pointed out the brook to him. It ran +through a meadow that came right up to the +garden.</p> +<p>“I’ll be down and play with you myself +as soon as we get this lettuce transplanted,” +said Grandpa.</p> +<p>Sunny had never had a brook to play in +before, and he thought it fine. It was not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +a very wide brook, but it was very clear, and +Sunny Boy could see the pebbles on the +bottom. Little darting fish went in and out, +hiding under the long grasses that leaned +over the edge. Bruce came panting down +as Sunny Boy looked at the water, and took +a long drink. Then he lay down in the +grass, his brown doggie eyes fixed watchfully +on his new friend.</p> +<p>“Wonder what that is?” said Sunny Boy +to himself.</p> +<p>“That” was a wooden wheel that turned +in the water with slow, even jerks, sending +out a little spray of rainbow drops that fell +back into the water. Sunny Boy got down +on his knees to watch it. Quite suddenly, +without warning, the wheel stopped turning.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy waited, but it did not turn +again. He blew on it gently, and still it did +not move. Then he ran over to the big tree +nearest him and picked up a stick. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></p> +<p>“I’ll fix it,” he said aloud. “Grandpa’ll +be surprised if I get it mended ’fore he +comes.”</p> +<p>Well, as it turned out, Grandpa was surprised, +but not as much as Sunny Boy. He +leaned over, and jabbed the obstinate wheel +with his stick; the dry end of the stake +snapped, and Sunny Boy, stick and all, +tumbled head-first into the water. In after +him leaped a flash of brown and white—good +old Bruce!</p> +<p>The water was very cold, and when Sunny +had swallowed some of it and shaken some +from his eyes, he scrambled to his feet crying +bitterly. He thought he was freezing to +death. Bruce pulled at his coat and tried to +drag him back, and it was his frantic barking +that attracted Jimmie’s notice. He came +tearing across the meadow, followed by +Grandpa.</p> +<p>“There—there—you’re all right,” said +Jimmie, as he pulled the little boy out in a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +jiffy. “Don’t cry so, Brother, you’re only +frightened. How’d it happen?”</p> +<p>“The wheel stopped!” sobbed Sunny Boy. +“An’ I tried to fix it. I was going to s’prise +Grandpa.”</p> +<p>“So you did,” admitted Jimmie, while +Bruce circled around them, barking madly. +“Now we’ll have to look out that you don’t +surprise us more by catching cold from this +ducking.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_ADVENTURES_BEGIN' id='VII_ADVENTURES_BEGIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>ADVENTURES BEGIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Grandpa hurried up to them, his +kind face filled with anxiety.</p> +<p>“I brought my coat,” he gasped, for he was +out of breath from running. “Wrap him in +that, Jimmie. Then hustle for the house.”</p> +<p>Jimmie carrying Sunny Boy and Grandpa +and Bruce following made quite a little procession. +Mrs. Horton, who was down at +the gate with Grandma inspecting the garden, +was startled.</p> +<p>“Sunny Boy!” she cried, and came running +toward them. “What happened? +Are you hurt?”</p> +<p>“He’s all right,” Grandpa assured her +cheerfully. “Just fell into the brook and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +got a little damp, that’s all. Mercy, Olive, +don’t look like that—brooks were made for +boys to fall into. Why I’d dragged Harry +out a dozen times before he was Arthur’s +age.”</p> +<p>Of course Mother and Grandma were relieved +and thankful to find it was nothing +more serious than a ducking. But they decided +that it was safer to rub Sunny Boy +briskly with towels and put him to bed to +rest.</p> +<p>“You might take cold and be sick a long +time, precious,” explained Mrs. Horton, as +she popped him between the sheets. “You +would miss all the Summer fun then. Now +close your eyes and Mother will read to +you.”</p> +<p>And while listening to the adventures of +a little Italian boy, Sunny’s blue eyes grew +heavier and heavier, till he went to sleep.</p> +<p>When he awoke, Mrs. Horton had gone, +and the room was empty and quiet. Sunny +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +Boy lay for a time, studying the walls and +furniture, for he had been asleep when put +to bed the night before and had dressed for +breakfast in such a hurry that he had not +noticed much of anything. It was a very +different room from his blue and white bedroom +at home, but a very pleasant, pretty +room, too. The wall-paper had gay little +pink roses scattered thickly over it, and the +furniture was all very large and dark and +brightly polished. Sunny Boy did not +know it, but the four-posted bed in which +he was lying had belonged to his great-grandmother, +and would be his own some +day.</p> +<p>Presently Sunny Boy tired of lying still +and began to be conscious of a funny sensation +somewhere down in his ribs. At least +he thought it must be his ribs. He remembered +that he had had no lunch. Did +his grandma expect him to starve at her +house? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p> +<p>Sunny Boy got up and found his slippers. +The ‘’fernal ’chine’ of an alarm clock was +ticking steadily away on the bureau where +Mrs. Horton had placed it after unpacking, +and with a great deal of trouble and much +tracing with a wet forefinger, he made out +that it was three o’clock—or was it five +o’clock? Three o’clock in the afternoon +and no lunch! Sunny Boy felt so sorry for +himself that he sat down on the floor and +wept a little. He was not quite awake yet, +you see, and our troubles often look rather +large when we first wake up. In just a minute +Sunny Boy stopped crying—he had +thought what to do.</p> +<p>Naturally his grandmother would not +wish him to go without eating all day, so +why not go down and try to find a little +chocolate cake, or some of those cookies left +from last night’s supper? Sunny Boy had +not the slightest idea where the pantry was, +but he was sure there must be one—every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +house had a pantry with a cake box in it. +So, in his slippers and pink pajamas, he crept +out into the hall intent on locating the +pantry in Grandma Horton’s house.</p> +<p>He met no one on his way downstairs, and +the first floor of the house seemed deserted, +too. He couldn’t know that his mother and +Grandma had peeped in at him several times +and found him fast asleep, or that now they +were on the side porch entertaining a caller. +Jimmie and Grandpa were working in the +garden again, and Araminta had gone home +until it should be time to start supper. This +was why Sunny Boy found no one on his +path to the pantry. He found it without +great trouble, because he kept going until he +came to the kitchen, and a kitchen and the +pantry are never very far apart.</p> +<p>Grandma’s pantry was a beautiful place, +shelves and walls and floor a snowy white, +and boxes and jars in apple-pie order. +There was a large window with a table under +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +it, and there Grandma rolled her cookies and +made her pies, but Sunny Boy did not know +that yet. He spied a round box that, to his +experienced eyes, looked as though it might +hold cake.</p> +<p>“I’ll get a chair,” he said aloud, talking to +himself, as he often did. “An’ I won’t take +only a little piece. I wish I was bigger.”</p> +<p>He meant taller.</p> +<p>He carried in a kitchen chair and scrambled +up on it. His eyes were on a level with +the shelf, and there sat two beautiful brown +pies beside the cake box. Sunny poked a +small, fat finger into the nearest one to taste +it. It was very good, though he did not “remember” +the taste. My, how soury it was! +Grandma had baked two rhubarb pies. But +no pie could hold Sunny’s attention very +long—his heart was set on cake. Standing +on his tiptoes, he managed to lift the tin lid +of the box when a voice at the door startled +him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></p> +<p>“My land of Goshen!” ejaculated Araminta.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy’s hand slipped, the lid came +down sharply on his fingers, and his other +hand swept across the shelf to knock over a +brown bowl from which some sticky yellow +stuff began to stream.</p> +<p>“Now you’ve done it!” Araminta told +him. “That’s the custard pudding for to-morrow’s +dinner. What in the world are +you trying to do, anyway?”</p> +<p>Araminta was not accustomed to finding +small boys in pale pink pajamas standing +on chairs in her pantry, so no wonder she was +surprised. But she was kind, was Araminta, +and she helped Sunny Boy down, and did +not scold. She got a basin of clean water +and a clean cloth and wiped up the pudding +and washed Sunny’s hands for him.</p> +<p>“I came back an hour earlier than I had +to,” she told him, “’cause I thought maybe +you’d be up and might like to see the chicken +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +yard. No wonder you’re hungry if you +didn’t have any lunch. Your Grandma has +some saved for you on a big plate. I guess +they don’t know you’re up. You go and get +dressed, and I’ll warm it up for you. And +don’t say anything about knocking over the +custard—let ’em think it was the cat.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was washed and dressed by the +time Mother came up again to see if he was +awake. She helped him a bit with his hair +and straightened his collar and kissed him +three or four times and then went down with +him to see him eat. Grandma did not call +it lunch—they had dinner and supper on the +farm.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy had a queer little feeling all +the while he was eating and he was so quiet +that his mother thought perhaps he was still +tired from his tumble into the brook. He +went out with Araminta afterward to see the +chicken yard, and he almost, but not quite, +forgot the queer feeling in watching the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +hundreds of white chickens and white ducks +busily scratching in the yard and drinking +water “upside down,” as he told Grandpa +that night. A chicken, you know, doesn’t +drink water as you do, but differently. Araminta +gave Sunny Boy a handful of cracked +corn to throw to the biddies, and they came +flocking about his feet, pushing and scrambling +so that he was glad when Araminta +shooed them away from him. She showed +him the nests, too, and in many of them were +pretty white eggs. He could gather them +some morning, all himself, Araminta told +him.</p> +<p>Coming out of the chicken yard they met +Jimmie, whistling merrily. He was glad to +find Sunny Boy all right after his wetting, +and asked him if he did not want to come +out to the stable to see Peter and Paul and +“the prettiest little fellows you ever saw.” +Sunny Boy went gladly, but the queer little +feeling went, too. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></p> +<p>Peter and Paul, it seemed, lived in a house +that was called a barn, and were very comfortable. +They had each a little room, “box +stalls” Jimmie called them, and all the hay +they could eat. For breakfast and dinner +and supper they usually had corn and now +and then some oats. The barn was a delightful +place, and Jimmie pointed out the +hay mow when Sunny Boy mentioned that +Harriet had said that was the place to play +on rainy days.</p> +<p>“Not much hay in it now,” announced +Jimmie, leading the way into another little +room. “We start cutting this year’s crop +next week. Ever seen any one hay?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy had not, but he forgot to say +so, because he found himself looking down +on a gentle-eyed collie dog mother with three +of the dearest little blind baby puppies you +could wish to see. Jimmie explained that +Lassie was Mrs. Bruce, and that the puppies +would have their eyes open in a day or two. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p> +<p>“And one of them’s to be yours—your +Grandpa said so,” Jimmie went on.</p> +<p>And in spite of that—and what child +would not be pleased to have a puppy for his +very own?—the queer little feeling still +stayed with Sunny Boy. It was like a small +lump of lead right down at the end of his +throat.</p> +<p>“I’m going up to the house now for the +milk pails,” announced Jimmie, when they +had finished looking at the puppies. “You +can come out and watch me milk if you want +to.”</p> +<p>In the kitchen they found Mother and +Grandma.</p> +<p>“Don’t let Topaz in,” said Grandma, as +Jimmie opened the door. “That wretched +cat has eaten half my egg custard, and I +won’t have him in the house again to-night.”</p> +<p>Araminta was setting the table in the +dining room and did not hear. Sunny Boy +gulped a little, but spoke up bravely. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span></p> +<p>“’Twasn’t Topaz, Grandma. I knocked +the custard over, looking for cake. I didn’t +mean to, but my hand slipped.”</p> +<p>Then how he did cry!</p> +<p>But when the whole story had come out, +and Grandma had hugged him, and had said +not to mind, that she could make another +pudding in a minute; after Mother had +whispered to him that while it was naughty +to help oneself to cake without asking, it was +much worse to let the kitty-cat be blamed, +and had kissed him and assured him she was +sure he would not do it again; after Araminta +had given him a pink peppermint—after +all this, and Sunny Boy was on his way +to the barn with Jimmie to watch the milking, +do you know, that queer little feeling +had entirely disappeared!</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_A_LETTER_FROM_DADDY' id='VIII_A_LETTER_FROM_DADDY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>A LETTER FROM DADDY</h3> +</div> + +<p>“My land of Goshen!”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy sat on the fence post +waiting for the postman. He was great +friends now with the postman who came to +the farm, almost as great friends as with the +cheerful, gray-uniformed letter-carrier in the +city, the one who brought letters to the house +with the shining numbers that Harriet +faithfully polished.</p> +<p>This postman in the country did not wear +a uniform, and he came in a little red automobile +that one could hear chug-chugging +half a mile away. He did not whistle +either, as the city postman did, but he put +the letters and parcels into a tin box nailed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +to a post; then he turned up a little tin flag +to say that he had been there, and the farm +folk came down to the end of the lane and +got the mail. The country postman came +only once a day, instead of the three times +Sunny Boy was used to seeing the city postman, +but that really made it more exciting.</p> +<p>“My land of Goshen!” said Sunny Boy +again. He was rather proud of that expression, +and used it as often as he could.</p> +<p>“I don’t think you ought to say that,” +Araminta had reproved him the first time she +heard him.</p> +<p>“But you say it,” argued Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“Well, that’s no reason why you should,” +retorted Araminta, who, like many grown-ups, +did not always practice what she +preached. “Anyway, I’m going to stop saying +it when I’m fifteen.”</p> +<p>“Maybe I will, too,” promised Sunny Boy +blithely. And that was the best Araminta +could hope from him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></p> +<p>“My land—” began Sunny for the third +time, but the red automobile of the postman +came to a sliding stop beside the box, and +fortunately interrupted him.</p> +<p>“Hello Blue Jeans!” called the postman, +who found a new name for Sunny Boy every +day. “How do you like farming now? +Am I to give the mail to you, or put it in the +box?”</p> +<p>This was an every day question. The +postman pretended to be very much surprised +when Sunny Boy said he would take +the mail, and he always handed it out a piece +at a time, so that Sunny never knew how +much was coming.</p> +<p>“There’s two for your grandfather,” +counted the postman, handing them to his +small friend standing on the running board. +“And that’s for your grandmother. Here’s +the Cloverways’ weekly paper for the whole +family. My, my, one—two—three—five +seven letters, all for your mother. And a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +box, too. Is that all? Yep, guess that’s +all to-day.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy got down from the running +board and the postman started his car +slowly.</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Corntassel!” the postman called +suddenly. “Here’s another. I declare, I +must be getting old, or need glasses, or something. +If there isn’t a letter addressed to +you and I came within one of taking it back +to the post-office with me!”</p> +<p>He gave Sunny Boy another letter, and +this time drove off without stopping.</p> +<p>“My land of Goshen!” said Sunny Boy, +who was using Araminta’s pet expression far +more often than she did. “Such a heap of +letters. Maybe mine’s from Daddy.”</p> +<p>He found Mrs. Horton in the porch +swing, sewing. She had to kiss the seven +new freckles on his nose before she could +read her mail, and then Sunny Boy had to +trudge about and find Grandpa and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +Grandma and deliver their letters to them. +He felt quite like a postman himself, +though it is doubtful if real postmen have +sugar cookies and peppermints paid to them +for each letter they bring. So by the time +Sunny Boy got around to having his own +letter read to him, Mother had finished hers +and had opened her box.</p> +<p>“See what Daddy sent us,” she said, holding +up the package for him to see. In the +box were two balls of pink wool and four of +dark blue.</p> +<p>“Now I can make you a sweater,” explained +Mrs. Horton. “The pink is for a +scarf I am finishing for Aunt Bessie. By +the way, I had a letter from her, dear, and +she sends her love, and so does Harriet.”</p> +<p>“All right,” agreed Sunny Boy briefly. +“Could you read this now, Mother?”</p> +<p>“Why, it’s from Daddy!” cried Mother, +taking the crumpled envelope Sunny Boy +drew from his pocket. “Did you wait till +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +you gave every one else his mail, precious? +Well, listen—”</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“Dear Sunny Boy,” said Daddy’s letter. +“So you fell into the brook! Don’t tell +Jimmie, but I did the same when I was just +about as tall as you are. Grandma fished +me out—only she wasn’t Grandma then.</p> +<p>“Don’t go fishing till I come up, for you +might catch them all and leave none for me. +One week from the day you’re reading this +I’ll be at Brookside. Hope you and Jimmie +and Peter and Paul will come to meet me. +Mother, too, if she likes, and Grandpa and +Grandma and Araminta and Bruce, if +they’re going to be real glad to see me. You +seem to have a lot of friends. Brookside +always was a mighty fine place for small +boys—like you and me.</p> +<p>“Can’t write more now because a man +wants to talk to me—at least he is ringing +my telephone bell and won’t stop. Love to +you and Mother from—<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Daddy</span>.”</p> +</div> +<p>Whenever Sunny Boy was pleased he +made a little song to sing. He did so now, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +skipping out to the garden where Grandpa +was generally to be found.</p> +<p>“Daddy’s coming! Daddy’s coming! +Next week! Pretty soon,” sang Sunny Boy +to a tune of his own. “Jimmie, where’s +Grandpa? Daddy’s coming next week, +pretty soon!”</p> +<p>“Well don’t walk all over the cabbage +plants if he is,” said Jimmie, who was busy +and did not like to be interrupted. “I think +your grandfather is down with Mr. Sites +looking at the mowing machine. They’re +down in the south meadow.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy knew his way about the farm +as well as Jimmie by this time. He knew +the pretty brown cow, Mrs. Butterball and +her long legged calf, Butterette; and he was +fast friends with Peter and Paul and the +dogs. Sunny had named his puppy +Brownie. He knew most of the chickens +and ducks by names of his own, and he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +held a little squirmy lamb in his arms for a +minute, with Jimmie helping. He was going +fishing, when Daddy came; and he was +going up into the woods the first time some +one had a moment to take him. Then he +would have been all over the farm.</p> +<p>Still singing to himself, he trotted down +to the south meadow and found Grandpa +and a strange man talking earnestly together.</p> +<p>“Look out! Stay where you are!” called +the strange man suddenly. “Back, Bruce, +back!”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy stopped instantly. So did +Bruce, who had followed him. Neither the +little boy nor the dog could see why they +should be shouted at, but they obeyed without +question. And in a minute they saw a +very good reason why. The stranger talking +to Grandpa bent down and lifted a +handle on a queer looking machine, and right +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +out of the grass—where no one could have +seen it—rose a long ugly thing that looked +like a big saw.</p> +<p>“All right, Sunny Boy!” called Grandpa.</p> +<p>“What is it?” asked Sunny, eyeing the +long saw curiously.</p> +<p>“It’s the mowing machine. We’re going +to cut hay with it presently,” answered +Grandpa. “Sites, this is Harry’s son.”</p> +<p>Mr. Sites shook hands with Sunny Boy, +smiling down at him cheerfully.</p> +<p>“You don’t say!” he drawled. “Well, +youngster, your father and I went to school +together. When’s he coming up? I’d like +to see him again.”</p> +<p>“Daddy’s coming next week, pretty +soon,” sang Sunny Boy, capering about the +mowing machine joyously. “He wrote me +a letter. May I sit on it, Grandpa?”</p> +<p>Sunny meant the seat of the mowing machine, +and Grandpa lifted him in and held +him while Mr. Sites harnessed up a pair of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +fat white horses and Mr. Hatch appeared +from somewhere. Sunny Boy was acquainted +with Mr. Hatch. He was Araminta’s +father and did most of the farming +for Grandpa. The Hatches lived in a +yellow house down the road, and Araminta +had six little brothers and sisters with whom +Sunny sometimes played. So you see he +was not lonely.</p> +<p>“Now we’ll go over to the fence,” said +Grandpa, lifting him down, “and watch how +the grass is cut. That saw-thing is the +knife, and you must never go near a mowing +machine unless you can see the knife sticking +up. Little boys and dogs, and even +men, can be very easily hurt if they are careless +and don’t watch the knife.”</p> +<p>So Grandpa and Mr. Sites and Sunny Boy +sat on the fence and Bruce lay down at their +feet, while Mr. Hatch rode on the mowing +machine round and round the field. The +fat white horses did not hurry in the least, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +but a wide light green path marked where +the grass was being cut. Grandpa explained +that when the sun had dried this +grass it was called hay, and that Peter and +Paul liked it to eat and to make their beds of +in the winter. He promised Sunny Boy +that he should help rake the hay the next +afternoon.</p> +<p>Whr-rr! purred the mowing machine as +Mr. Hatch turned and the fat white horses +came toward them.</p> +<p>“Whoa!” the horses stopped suddenly.</p> +<p>Up came the long saw-knife, and Mr. +Hatch jumped down from his seat and bent +over, looking at something on the ground.</p> +<p>“He’s found something,” said Mr. Sites to +Grandpa. “Wonder if it is—”</p> +<p>“Hey, Sunny! Sunny Boy! Oh, Sunny +Boy!” Mr. Hatch waved his big straw hat +wildly. “Come and see what I’ve got. +Make Bruce stay there.”</p> +<p>“I’ll hold Bruce,” said Mr. Sites. “You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +two go on over. I’ll bet a cookie I know +what he’s found.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy raced over the meadow, dragging +Grandpa by the hand. Mr. Hatch +had looked very near, but it was a very wide +meadow if you tried to run across it.</p> +<p>“Hurry,” sputtered Sunny Boy, red in the +face with the excitement and heat.</p> +<p>“Am hurrying,” grunted Grandpa. +“You seem to forget about the bone in my +leg!”</p> +<p>But Sunny Boy was too eager to see what +Mr. Hatch had found to be sorry even for a +grandfather with a bone in his leg.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_SUNNY_BOY_FORGETS' id='IX_SUNNY_BOY_FORGETS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>SUNNY BOY FORGETS</h3> +</div> + +<p>When they reached the horses and +the machine, the Something was +around on the other side.</p> +<p>“Here, Sunny Boy, here’s a sight for you,” +said Mr. Hatch mysteriously. “What do +you think of this?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy bent down to look. There, in +a hole in the ground, half-hidden by the tall +grass all about it, were four little furry baby +rabbits!</p> +<p>“Bunnies!” and Sunny plunged his two +hands down into the middle of that furry +bunch.</p> +<p>They snuggled closer, and their soft eyes +looked frightened, but they did not try to +run away.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +<img src='images/sunny-111.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 340px; height: 500px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 340px;'> +He lifted one of the baby rabbits and placed it in Sunny’s hands.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></div> +<p>“Where’s their mamma?” demanded +Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“The mower scared her off,” said Mr. +Hatch. “Pick one up—you won’t hurt it—see, +like this.”</p> +<p>He lifted one of the baby rabbits and +placed it in Sunny’s hands. It wriggled uneasily, +and he let it fall back into the nest. +Mr. Hatch and Grandpa laughed.</p> +<p>“We’ll leave them right here,” declared +Mr. Hatch kindly. “I’ll mow around the +nest, but not very near, and I guess the +mother rabbit will come back to-night. +Funny creatures, aren’t they? Every year +they have a nest in a grass field, and every +year I come within an ace of cutting off their +noses.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy and Bruce wandered back to +the house alone. Grandpa was busy overhauling +more machinery with Mr. Sites, and +Jimmie was still busy with cabbages. +Sunny was used to so much attention that he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +felt rather put out when Araminta, sweeping +the front porch, told him that Mother +and Grandma had taken Peter and the +buggy and had driven to Cloverways.</p> +<p>“They said I could go next time,” grumbled +Sunny Boy, not a bit sunnily. +“Mother said so. ’Tain’t fair.”</p> +<p>“Don’t say ’tain’t,” corrected Araminta, +who was very careful of Sunny’s grammar. +“Say it isn’t fair. Only it is—how could +you go when you were down in the field with +your grandpa?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy felt that if Araminta had deserted +him, there was no friend left. He +went on into the house and wept a little, +curled up in the big leather chair in the +sitting room. He felt very sorry for himself.</p> +<p>But even a little boy whose mother and +grandmother have gone away and left him +can not feel sorry very long when a June +breeze is ruffling the white curtains at the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +window and there is a whole farm ready and +waiting for him to come out and play. After +a few big raindrop tears and a sniff or two, +Sunny Boy wiped his eyes on his “hanky,” +and decided that he would be brave and +cheerful and then perhaps his family would +be sorry to think how they had treated him.</p> +<p>He decided to make a kite and go out and +fly it, the wind at the window making him +think of kite-flying and the sight of a mass of +papers on Grandpa’s desk in one corner of +the room suggesting what to make the kite +of. He went over to the desk and climbed +upon the chair standing before it.</p> +<p>Ordinarily Sunny Boy had a good +memory. He could remember things for +Mother and he seldom forgot where he had +left his toys, but this morning a strange +thing happened—his memory did not work +at all. He forgot completely that Mother +had told him not to touch other people’s +things without permission and that books +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +and papers were not to be opened or even unfolded +unless one first asked.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy thrust a hand down among the +papers on Grandpa’s desk and pulled out +two nice smooth brown pieces of paper that +seemed strong and just exactly right for a +kite. For good measure he took a letter or +two, and then scurried out to the kitchen for +string.</p> +<p>He had never made a kite, but he had +often watched the boys in the park at home +flying them, and he had a very good idea of +how they were made. He had his own +bottle of paste Mother had brought for him +and he found the kind of sticks he wanted +out in the yard. In half an hour he had the +papers pasted smoothly over the sticks, a +wiggly tail of crumpled papers from the +waste-basket tied on, and yards and yards +of string wound on a piece of wood. Sunny +Boy was ready to sail his kite. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span></p> +<p>Araminta gave him a cookie and advised +him to go down by the brook.</p> +<p>“There’s more breeze there,” she said. +“But for mercy’s sake don’t fall in again. +And come in when you hear me ring the +bell.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy trudged down to the brook and +started running with his kite as he had seen +the boys do, to give it a good start. Up, up, +it went, sailing high over his head, the +crumpled paper tail wiggling in the wind.</p> +<p>“Jus’ as good,” said Sunny Boy to himself, +“jus’ as good.”</p> +<p>He meant to say “Just as good as Archie +Johnson’s,” Archie being one of the older +boys who played in the park and who sailed +elaborate kites. But Sunny had not tied the +knots in his string tightly enough, and a +strong puff of wind coming by, the cord +parted and away sailed the kite, over the +brook and into the woods! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p> +<p>“Ding-ling! Ding-ling! Ding-a-ling!” +rang Araminta’s bell.</p> +<p>It is often a good thing to be too busy to +cry. Sunny Boy might have felt bad over +the loss of his kite—indeed he watched it +out of sight—but if he meant to cry the +sound of the bell changed his mind. Instead, +he ran up to the house as fast as he +could go, and found Mother and Grandma +waiting for him.</p> +<p>“Did you miss us?” asked his mother. +“We knew you were having a good time, +dear. Grandma has brought you a lolly-pop. +What have you been doing to get so +sun-burned?”</p> +<p>“Flying kites,” stated Sunny Boy. +“Thank you, Grandma. We found bunnies +down in the field.”</p> +<p>Grandpa came on the porch then, his +glasses pushed up on his forehead.</p> +<p>“Mary, Olive, have either of you seen +anything of those two five hundred dollar +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +bonds I had on my desk?” he said anxiously. +“They were there this morning, and when I +came in from the mowing I couldn’t find +them. Have either of you used my desk?”</p> +<p>“No, Father,” said Mrs. Horton.</p> +<p>“No, Arthur,” said Grandma. “I’m sure +Araminta hasn’t been near the desk, either. +Sunny, you weren’t in the sitting room this +morning, were you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I was,” chirped Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“But you didn’t see anything of Grandpa’s +bonds—his nice beautiful, Liberty +Bonds, did you, dear?” asked Mrs. Horton.</p> +<p>“No, Mother.”</p> +<p>“Well,” Grandpa sighed, and turned to +go in, “I’ll look more thoroughly, of +course. But they’re gone—I’m sure of it. +I had no business to be so careless. They +should have been in the bank a week ago. +They might have blown out of the window—I’ll +see that a screen goes in that window +to-night.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p> +<p>Sunny Boy put down his lolly-pop and +followed Grandpa into the house. He +found him seated at the desk, the papers in +great confusion all about him.</p> +<p>“Well, Sunny, did you come to help me +hunt?” asked Grandpa. “Don’t bother +your yellow head about it. When you +grow up, try to be more careful than your +grandfather.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy slipped a warm little hand +into Grandpa’s.</p> +<p>“I made a kite—with papers,” he confessed +bravely. “Not Lib’ty Bonds, Grandpa, +just papers on top of your desk. I was +’musing myself, and I had to have a kite.”</p> +<p>“I see,” said Grandpa slowly, and not a +bit crossly. “What color paper, dear? +White?”</p> +<p>“No, brown,” replied Sunny Boy eagerly, +sure now that he had not taken the missing +bonds. “Just brown, Grandpa, and two old +letters.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p> +<p>“Yes, I’ve copies of those—they don’t +matter,” said Grandpa. “But we’d better +get that kite, Namesake, because you’ve +pasted my bonds on it, and a thousand dollars +is a bit too expensive a kite even for my +one and only grandson.”</p> +<p>“But it flew off!” Sunny Boy began to cry. +“The string broke, an’ it went over the brook +into the woods.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton, coming into the sitting room +to remind Sunny Boy to wash his face and +hands before dinner, found her little boy +crying as though his heart would break in +Grandpa’s arms.</p> +<p>“What in the world—” she began.</p> +<p>“There—there—it’s all right,” soothed +Grandpa. “We’re in a peck of trouble, +Olive, because we took some papers from +Grandpa’s desk to make a kite with and now +they turn out to be two Liberty Bonds. +And the kite—like the pesky contrivance it +is—got away and is hiding somewhere in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +woods. But we’re going out right after +dinner and hunt for it, aren’t we, Sunny +Boy?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy felt Mother’s kind hand +smoothing his hair.</p> +<p>“Oh, my dear little boy!” said Mother’s +voice. “My dear little son! How could +you? Didn’t you know how wrong it was +to touch a single thing on Grandpa’s desk?”</p> +<p>“I forgot,” said Sunny Boy in a very little +voice.</p> +<p>“Why I wouldn’t have believed that my +Sunny Boy could forget,” grieved Mother. +“And now Grandpa’s money is lost! And +Daddy coming next week! What will he +say?”</p> +<p>“We’re going to find it long before Daddy +comes,” said Grandpa stoutly. “Right +after dinner we’re going over to the woods. +Sunny can remember about where he thinks +the kite fell. Cheer up, Olive—we’re sorry +we didn’t remember about ‘hands off’ when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +other people’s property is about, but every +one forgets once in a while. And I was careless—I’m +as great a sinner as Sunny. And +now forgive us both before we’re quite +drowned in our tears.”</p> +<p>Mother and Sunny Boy had another little +cry all to themselves upstairs and he told her +that never, <i>never</i> would he touch anything +that did not belong to him again without +first asking. Then they both bathed their +faces in clear cold water and felt better. +No one mentioned bonds at dinner, and there +was strawberry short-cake which Sunny Boy +declared was as good as his favorite chocolate +ice cream. And right after dinner he +and Grandpa went out to hunt for the lost +kite.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_GOING_FISHING' id='X_GOING_FISHING'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>GOING FISHING</h3> +</div> + +<p>But though Grandpa and Sunny Boy +hunted and hunted and hunted, till it +seemed as though they must have covered +every inch of the big woods; though they +searched the tangled thickets where the +briery blackberry bushes grew along the edge +of the brook; though they looked up at the +trees till their necks ached, hoping perhaps +to find the kite caught in the branches; still +they had to come home without the precious +Liberty Bonds.</p> +<p>“Never mind,” said Grandpa, as they +made their way toward home over a little +pathway of stones tumbled together in the +brook to make a bridge, “Never mind, +Sunny. If we can’t find them, we can’t, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +and there is no use in feeling bad about it +any longer. You didn’t mean to lose the +bonds, we all know that, so we’ll just stop +crying over spilled milk and cheer up and be +happy again.”</p> +<p>But it was a very unhappy little boy who +went to bed early that night—for the long +tramp had tired him—and for several days +after the loss of the kite Sunny Boy kept +rather closely to the house.</p> +<p>He liked to be in the kitchen with Araminta +or on the side porch with Grandma +and Mother. Jimmie and Bruce tried to +coax him to go with them, but he said politely +that he didn’t feel like it.</p> +<p>However, as the time drew near for his +father’s visit Sunny Boy cheered up, and by +the morning that Daddy was expected he +felt quite like his usually sunny self.</p> +<p>“Are you going to meet Daddy?” he asked +Mother that morning, as he brushed his hair +after she had parted it for him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></p> +<p>“I don’t believe I’ll go down,” answered +Mrs. Horton. “If you and Grandpa go, +that will be enough and I’ll be at the gate +waiting for you.”</p> +<p>“Daddy’s coming!” Sunny Boy pounded +his spoon against his bread and milk bowl.</p> +<p>“Sunny!” said Mother warningly.</p> +<p>“He’s most here now!” and Sunny’s feet +hammered against the table so that the coffee +pot danced a jig.</p> +<p>“Sunny Boy!” implored Grandma.</p> +<p>“I’m going to meet him!” This time +Sunny Boy upset his glass of water with a +wild sweep of his arm.</p> +<p>Grandpa pushed back his chair.</p> +<p>“I think we’d better start,” he observed, +“before a certain young man goes out of the +window. If you’re as glad as all this to +think that Daddy’s coming, what are you +going to do when you really see him?”</p> +<p>But Sunny Boy was already out of the +room and down at the gate where Jimmie +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +stood holding Peter and Paul already harnessed +to the carryall.</p> +<p>“Let me feed ’em sugar,” teased Sunny +Boy. “Hold me up, Jimmie, I’m not ’fraid +of their teeth now.”</p> +<p>“You pile in,” said Jimmie good-naturedly. +“If you’re going to meet that +train, you want to start in a few minutes. +Say, Sunny, what ails you this morning?” +for Sunny Boy had gone around to the back +of the carriage, scrambled up over the top +of the second seat, and was now tumbling +head first into the cushions of the front seat.</p> +<p>Grandpa came out in a more leisurely +fashion and took the reins.</p> +<p>“All right, Jimmie, we’re off. In case +anything happens to the team, Sunny has +enough push in him this morning to pull the +carriage there and back.”</p> +<p>Peter and Paul trotted briskly, and +Sunny’s tongue kept pace with their heels. +His shrill little voice was the first thing Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +Horton heard, for the train had beaten them +to the station after all, and as the carriage +turned the corner of the street a familiar figure +stood on the platform waving to them. +Grandpa had to keep one hand on his grandson +to prevent him from falling out over the +wheels.</p> +<p>“Well, well, Son, isn’t this fine!” Daddy +had him in his arms almost before the horses +stopped. “How brown you are! and yes, +you’ve grown, too. I’ll put the suitcase in—don’t +try to lift it.”</p> +<p>Daddy put Sunny Boy down and turned +and kissed Grandpa.</p> +<p>“You’re his little boy!” Sunny thought +out loud. It was the first time he had +thought about it at all.</p> +<p>“I’m his daddy,” said Grandpa proudly. +“Pretty fine boy, all things considered, isn’t +he?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy laughed because this was probably +a joke. Anyway, Grandpa laughed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +and so did Daddy. Then they all got into +the carriage and Daddy drove Peter and +Paul. How Mrs. Horton laughed when +she saw them drive up to the gate, all three +of them crowded together on the front seat.</p> +<p>“You three big boys!” she teased them. +“I suppose you had so much to talk about +that you had to be together.”</p> +<p>Daddy put one arm around Mother and +the other about Grandma.</p> +<p>“Make the most of me,” he said gayly. +“I can stay only three days.”</p> +<p>Then there was a great to-do. Mother +and Grandma had counted on having him +for three weeks. Three days, as Mother +said, was “no vacation at all.”</p> +<p>“But better than nothing,” Mr. Horton +pointed out. “We can do a great deal in +three days. And if I can’t get up again, at +least I’ll come up to get you and Sunny +when you’re ready to go home.”</p> +<p>Well, being sensible people and not given +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +to “crying over spilled milk” (which was +Grandpa’s favorite proverb) they soon decided +to enjoy every minute of Daddy’s stay +and to begin right away.</p> +<p>“Sunny and I are going fishing,” announced +Daddy firmly. “We’ll go to-day—if +Araminta can give us a lunch—and +Mother is coming with us, if she wants to. +Then to-morrow she and I are going for a +long drive, and the last day I’m going to be +a farmer and help Father with the work. +Come on, Sunny, upstairs with you and get +on high shoes. We don’t go fishing in sandals +and socks.”</p> +<p>Araminta made them sandwiches and +packed a box of lunch, putting in a whole +apple pie. Daddy had brought his fishing +rod with him, and he promised to make +Sunny one as soon as they found a place to +fish. Mother thought she would not go, for +she was already tired from a long walk the +day before. So Sunny Boy and Daddy set +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +off alone for the brook in the woods where +the speckled trout lived.</p> +<p>“Shall I catch one?” asked Sunny Boy, +scuffling along. He did like to scuffle his +feet and Daddy did not seem to care how +much noise he made. “Shall I fish?”</p> +<p>“Sure you’ll fish,” Daddy assured him. +“Likely, you’ll catch one, though you never +can tell. A good sportsman doesn’t growl +even if he spends a whole day and doesn’t +catch one fish. We’ll be good sports, shan’t +we?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” agreed Sunny Boy. “But I +would rather catch a fish.”</p> +<p>Daddy laughed and began to whistle.</p> +<p>“Do you know Jimmie?” said Sunny Boy, +running to keep up with him. “Do you +know Jimmie and Mr. Sites and Araminta +and David and Raymond and Juddy and +Fred and Sarah and Dorabelle? Do you, +Daddy?”</p> +<p>“I went to school with a boy named Jaspar +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +Sites,” Daddy stopped whistling to answer. +“Guess he’s the same. Araminta +helps Grandma—I know her, and Jimmie +I’ve met before. But I must say the others +haven’t the pleasure of my acquaintance—who +is Dorabelle, may I ask?”</p> +<p>“They’re Araminta’s brothers and sisters,” +explained Sunny Boy. “They live +down the road. Let’s fish now, Daddy.”</p> +<p>“We will,” agreed Mr. Horton. +“You’ve picked out a good place. Now +first I’ll start you in, and then I’ll try my +luck.”</p> +<p>He found a nice long branch for Sunny, +and tied a fish-line to it. At the end of the +line he fastened a bent pin with a bit of +cracker on the point.</p> +<p>“There you are,” he told him. “Now you +sit out here on the dead roots of this tree +that hangs over the bank, and you dangle +the cracker in the water and keep very, very +still. And perhaps a little fish on his way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +to the grocery store for his mother will see +the cracker and want a bite of lunch. Then +you’ll catch him.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy sat very still while Daddy +baited a sharp thin hook with real bait and +threw his line into the water, too. He sat +down beside Sunny and together they +waited.</p> +<p>“Daddy!” said Sunny Boy after a long +while.</p> +<p>Mr. Horton raised a warning finger.</p> +<p>“But Daddy?” this after Sunny Boy had +waited a longer time.</p> +<p>“You’ll scare the fish,” Mr. Horton whispered. +“What is it?”</p> +<p>“My foot prickles!”</p> +<p>Mr. Horton took his line and whispered +to him to get up and run about.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy’s foot felt too funny for words, +and at first he was sure it had dropped off +while he had been sitting on it. He could +not feel it at all. After stamping up and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +down a few minutes the funny feeling went +away, and he came back to his father and +took his line.</p> +<p>“Your foot was asleep,” said Mr. Horton +in a low tone. “Don’t sit on it again. +Feel a nibble?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy drew his line up and looked +at it. There was nothing at all on the pin.</p> +<p>“Percy Perch must have taken that cracker +when you weren’t looking,” said Mr. Horton, +putting another cracker on. “Now +watch out that Tommy Trout doesn’t run +off with this.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy waited and waited. A yellow +butterfly came and sat down on a blade of +grass near him. Sunny looked at it more +closely—it was a funny butterfly—a funny +butter—</p> +<p>Splash went his rod and line, but he never +heard it. Sunny Boy was fast asleep, and +Tommy Trout must have run away with the +pin and the cracker because they were never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +heard of again. When Sunny Boy opened +his eyes again, his father was folding up his +fishing tackle.</p> +<p>“Hello! You’re a great fisherman!” +Daddy greeted him. “See what we’re going +to take home to Mother to surprise her.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy rubbed his sleepy eyes. +There on the grass lay four pretty little fish.</p> +<p>“Did you catch them?” he asked Daddy, +who nodded.</p> +<p>“My land of Goshen!” said Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“Where’d you pick that up?” demanded +Daddy. “Do you think apple pie might +help you to feel spryer?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was interested in pie, and he +helped Daddy to spread the little white cloth +on the ground. He had not known a picnic +was part of the fun of fishing!</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_THE_HAY_SLIDE' id='XI_THE_HAY_SLIDE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>THE HAY SLIDE</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Daddy,” said Sunny Boy, as he +munched a sandwich, lying on his +stomach and looking down into the brook +from the safe height of the bank, “how much +is five hundred dollars?”</p> +<p>“A large sum of money,” answered Mr. +Horton, surprised. “Why, Son? What +do you know about such things? Little +boys shouldn’t be bothering about money for +years and years to come.”</p> +<p>So Sunny told him about Grandpa’s +bonds and how he had lost them by pasting +them on his kite. Mr. Horton was very +sorry, but he said little.</p> +<p>“Only remember this, Sunny Boy,” he insisted +gravely. “I would rather you told +me yourself than to have heard it from any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +one else—even from Mother. When +you’ve done anything good or bad that you +think I should know, you tell me yourself, +always. And now how about going wading?”</p> +<p>That was great fun. Sunny Boy rolled +his trousers up as far as they would go and +took off his shoes and stockings. The water +was not deep, but, my! wasn’t it cold? +Little baby fish darted in and out, and ever +so many times Sunny thought he had a handful +of them. But when he unclosed his +hands there was never anything in them but +water, and not much of that.</p> +<p>“If I did catch a fish, could I keep him, +Daddy?” Sunny asked. “I could carry +home some brook for him to live in.”</p> +<p>Sunny meant some of the brook water. +Daddy explained that the baby fish, minnows +they are called, would not be happy +living in a bowl as the goldfish Sunny once +had were. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p> +<p>“And you wouldn’t want a fish to be unhappy, +would you?” questioned Daddy. +“Of course you wouldn’t. But I’ll tell you +something better to do than trying to catch +fish that only want to be left alone.”</p> +<p>“Something to do with my shoes and stockings +off?” stipulated Sunny anxiously. “I +haven’t been wading hardly a minute yet, +Daddy.”</p> +<p>Daddy laughed a little. He was lying +flat on his stomach as Sunny had done, peering +over the bank down at the water. He +seemed to be having a very good time, did +Daddy.</p> +<p>“This is something you can do without +your shoes and stockings,” he assured the +small figure standing in the middle of the +brook. “Indeed, I thought of it because +you are all fixed for doing it. You know +Mother was talking about her Christmas +presents last night?”</p> +<p>Sunny nodded. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p> +<p>“She’s sewing a bag for Aunt Bessie,” he +confided, “and Grandma is getting ready, +too. But I think Christmas is about a year +off, Daddy.”</p> +<p>“Not a year—about five months,” corrected +Daddy. “That seems like a long +time to you. But Mother likes to start early +and make many of her presents. And a +very good way it is, too. Well, Sunny Boy, +I once heard Mother say that she would like +to try making an indoor garden for some of +her friends who live in apartments and have +no gardens of their own. Only, Mother +said, she must experiment first and find out +what would grow best.”</p> +<p>“What’s an indoor garden?”</p> +<p>“Oh, there are different kinds,” answered +Daddy. “But I think the kind Mother is +anxious to try is very simple. Just damp +moss and a vine or two put into a glass bowl. +They will grow and keep green all Winter +and be pretty to look at.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span></p> +<p>“I could get her some moss,” said Sunny +quickly. “See, those stones are all covered, +Daddy.”</p> +<p>“That’s just what I want you to do,” +agreed Daddy. “We’ll take plenty home +to Mother and she can experiment with indoor +gardens to her heart’s content. See, +Son, here’s my knife. You must cut the +moss very carefully in square pieces, and try +not to break it. I’ll be digging up some of +these healthy little ground vines.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was proud to be allowed to +handle Daddy’s big jack knife, and he was +glad Daddy hadn’t told him not to cut +himself. Daddy, somehow, always trusted +Sunny not to be heedless.</p> +<p>“Mother’ll like it, won’t she?” he called +to Daddy, who was digging up a pretty, +creeping green vine that grew in the grass +near him. “Won’t she be s’prised, +Daddy?”</p> +<p>They worked busily, and soon Sunny had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +a neat little pile of green moss ready to take +home to Mother. After that he waded +about in the brook, splashing the water with +his bare feet.</p> +<p>“There—you’ve been in long enough,” +called Mr. Horton presently. “The water +is too cold to play in it long. Come, Son, +and put on your shoes and stockings.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy dabbled his feet in a little hole +made by a stone he had pushed away.</p> +<p>“Sunny Boy!” called Mr. Horton once +again.</p> +<p>Still Sunny Boy continued to play in the +water. To tell the truth every one had been +so anxious to make him happy at Brookside +that he was the least little bit in the world +spoiled. The more you have your own way, +you know, the harder it is to do other people’s +way, and if you can do as you please +day after day, by and by you want to do as +you please all the time. Sunny Boy felt +like that now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p> +<p>“Sunny!” said Daddy a third time, very +quietly.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy looked at him—and came +marching out of the water. He was not +very pleasant while Daddy helped him dry +his feet and get into the despised shoes and +stockings, but, when they were ready to start +for home and Daddy tilted up his chin to +look at him squarely, Sunny Boy’s own smile +came out.</p> +<p>“All right!” announced Daddy cheerfully. +“Let’s go home a different way and +perhaps we’ll find wild strawberries.”</p> +<p>They did, too, a patch of them down at +one end of the apple orchard, and Mr. Horton +showed Sunny Boy how he used to string +them on grass stems to take home to his +mother when he was a little boy.</p> +<p>He certainly was a dear Daddy, and when +he went back to the city Mother and Sunny +had to be nicer to each other than ever because +they missed him so very much. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></p> +<p>“It’s raining!” Sunny Boy stood at the +window after breakfast, the morning after +Mr. Horton had gone back to the city. +“Does it rain in the summer?”</p> +<p>Grandma laughed, and told him that indeed +it did rain in the summer.</p> +<p>“We haven’t had a drop of rain since +you’ve been here, and you must have brought +fair weather with you,” she said. “Now +that the hay is all in the barn, we’re glad to +see it rain, for the garden needs it badly. +Think how thirsty the flowers and vegetables +must be.”</p> +<p>“Harriet said to play in the barn on rainy +days,” said Sunny Boy sadly, “but I think +I’m lonesome.”</p> +<p>“Well, you go out to the barn and you +won’t be lonesome,” Araminta, who was +clearing the breakfast table, laughed at his +long face. “I’ll bet all the children are +there, even the baby. He can go, can’t he, +Mrs. Horton?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p> +<p>Grandma said yes, of course he could, and +Mother brought his rubbers and raincoat +downstairs when she came, for he met her +on the stairs and there she had them all +ready.</p> +<p>“Run along and have a good time,” she +told him, kissing him. “I was going to suggest +that you play in the barn this morning. +Help Jimmie if he’s working, won’t you, and +don’t hinder him?”</p> +<p>Paddling out to the barn in the pouring +rain was fun. But the barn was the most +fun of all. Grandpa and Jimmie were on +the first floor mending harness, and the doors +were open so that they could see right out +into the orchard and yet not get a bit wet. +Just as Araminta had said, all the Hatch +children were there, even the baby, who lay +asleep on the hay in a nice, quiet corner.</p> +<p>“Hurrah!” cried Juddy Hatch. “We’re +going to play robbers, and you can be in my +cave.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p> +<p>“Be in my cave,” urged David, his +brother. “Our side has the best slide.”</p> +<p>“I’ll come up there and settle you youngsters +if you’re going to quarrel,” threatened +Jimmie, switching a buggy whip and looking +very fierce. “You’d better start playing +and stop arguing.”</p> +<p>The children knew Jimmie had small patience +with little bickerings, though he had +never been known to do anything more severe +than scold. So they took him at his +word and began to play.</p> +<p>“You be on Juddy’s side, then,” agreed +David. “See, we each have a cave here in +the hay—that’s mine in this corner. The +way we do is to all go into our caves and +take turns creeping up. When you hear us +on the roof of your cave, you have to get out +and run over to ours, climb up to the top and +slide down the other side. If you’re caught +you have to b’long to our robber tribe.”</p> +<p>The hay was very smooth and slippery, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +and the children had many a tumble as the +two robber tribes chased each other across +the haymow. Such shrieks of laughter, such +howls as the robbers in their excitement +sometimes forgot and pulled a braid of +Sarah’s or Dorabelle’s! The baby continued +to sleep placidly through all the noise, +and Jimmie told Grandpa that he thought +perhaps “the poor little kid was deaf!” +Jimmie was only fooling, of course, for the +Hatch baby was not deaf at all.</p> +<p>It was Sunny Boy’s turn to be chased, and +as he heard David’s robber tribe beginning +to climb up on the roof of his cave he dashed +out and ran for the other cave at the end of +the haymow. Up the side he went, and +down. Dorabelle was captured in that raid +and had to go over to David’s side.</p> +<p>“Now I’ve got four in my tribe,” crowed +the robber chief. “Get your men together, +Jud, and we’ll do it again.”</p> +<p>“Where’s Sunny Boy?” demanded Juddy, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +counting his tribe. “He was here—I saw +him climb up the top of the cave. Sunny +Boy! Sun-ny!”</p> +<p>No Sunny Boy answered.</p> +<p>“Jimmie, is Sunny Boy down there with +you?” Juddy peered over the edge of the +haymow where Jimmie sat mending the harness. +Grandpa had gone to the house, declaring +that there was a little too much noise +in the barn for his rheumatism.</p> +<p>“Haven’t seen him,” answered Jimmie. +“Isn’t he up there with you?”</p> +<p>Juddy’s lip began to quiver. He was +only eight years old.</p> +<p>“Then he’s lost,” he said. “He isn’t here +at all, Jimmie.”</p> +<p>Jimmie dropped his harness and ran up +the little ladder that led to the haymow.</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” he declared sharply. “A +boy can’t get lost with a roof over him. +Likely enough he’s hiding for fun. Sunny! +Sunny Boy, where are you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></p> +<p>But no Sunny Boy answered. And +though Jimmie and the Hatch children +turned over the hay and looked in every corner +of the haymow, they could not find +him.</p> +<p>“Shall I go and tell Mr. Horton?” suggested +David, who was the oldest of the +Hatch boys.</p> +<p>“Not till we have something to tell,” was +Jimmie’s answer. “Where was he when +you saw him last?”</p> +<p>“Right over in that corner,” said Juddy, +pointing. “I saw him going over the top of +the cave, an’ then I ducked under, and when +David got Dorabelle he just wasn’t here.”</p> +<p>“He must be here—somewhere,” retorted +Jimmie impatiently. “I’m going to look +once more—and if he’s just hiding, won’t I +shake him!”</p> +<p>Jimmie climbed over the top of the “robber’s +cave,” as Sunny Boy had done, and +down on the other side. The children heard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +him scuffling about, kicking the hay with his +feet, and then suddenly he gave a shout.</p> +<p>“You stay where you are till I come back,” +he called. “You David, and Juddy, keep +the others where they are. I’ll bet I’ve +found him.”</p> +<p>The Hatch children were fairly dancing +to follow Jimmie, but they knew he meant +what he said. They sat down in the hay to +wait.</p> +<p>One—two—three—four—five minutes passed. +Then Jimmie stepped out on the barn floor +and grinned cheerfully up at the anxious +group perched on the edge of the haymow.</p> +<p>“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve found him. +He’s out in the old dairy. Now don’t all +come down at once—Jud, let the girls come +first. Easy there!”</p> +<p>The Hatch children came tumbling down, +eager to see Sunny Boy. Sarah stopped to +pick up the baby, who had slept through all +the excitement and now merely opened two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +dark eyes, smiled, and went to sleep again. +The Hatch baby was used to being taken +about and had the steady habits of an old +traveler.</p> +<p>They found Sunny absorbed in watching +a mother duck and her ten little ducklings +who were swimming daintily about in a +trough in the dairy.</p> +<p>“Well, where were you?” Juddy pounced +on Sunny Boy. “You gave us an awful +scare.”</p> +<p>“I’ve been right here all the time.” +Sunny was a bit aggrieved to find such a fuss +made over him. First Jimmie and now +Juddy. “I haven’t been anywhere,” he insisted.</p> +<p>“We thought you were lost!” David +frowned at him severely.</p> +<p>“Well, I wasn’t,” retorted Sunny Boy +briefly. “I was watching ducks. Jimmie, +do they sleep in water?”</p> +<p>“What, ducks?” said Jimmie. “Oh, no, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +they sleep under their mother just like +chickens at night, some place where it is +warm and dry. Your grandmother will be +glad you found this duck—she’s missed her +for two days. Guess she never thought of +looking in the dairy.”</p> +<p>This part of the barn had been used for +the cows, you see, years before, when +Sunny’s father was a little boy and a big +herd of fine cows were kept at Brookside. +Now Mrs. Butterball and Butterette were +the only cows, and they lived in a box stall +near Peter and Paul.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_APPLE_PIES' id='XII_APPLE_PIES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>APPLE PIES</h3> +</div> + +<p>Sunny Boy continued to look at the +ducks till David could stand it no +longer.</p> +<p>“What happened to you?” he asked, jogging +Sunny’s elbow to make him look at +him. “How’d you get down here?”</p> +<p>“Fell down,” said Sunny calmly. +“Could I have a duck to play with, +Jimmie?”</p> +<p>“How’d you fall down?” persisted +David, who usually got what he started +after.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was exceedingly bored by +these numerous questions, and he wanted to +be allowed to watch the ducks in peace. So +he decided the easiest way to get rid of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +David and the others would be to tell them +what they wanted to know.</p> +<p>“I’ll show you,” he said. “Come on.”</p> +<p>He led them out of the dairy into a little +cobwebby room, and pointed up to a square +opening.</p> +<p>“I slid through that—see?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“Did it hurt?”</p> +<p>“Course not—I fell on the hay.”</p> +<p>The floor was thickly covered with old, +dusty hay.</p> +<p>“It’s the room where we used to throw +down hay to feed the cows,” explained Jimmie. +“They covered it over with loose +boards when they put in the hay three or +four years ago. But I suppose you youngsters +when romping around kicked the boards +to one side and the hay with it. Sunny, +coasting down the side of the cave, just +coasted right on through the hole and landed +down here. Lucky there was hay enough on +the floor to save him a bump.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></p> +<p>“But why didn’t you come and tell us?” +asked David. “Here we’ve been looking +all over for you. Why didn’t you sing +out?”</p> +<p>“I was going to,” admitted Sunny Boy +apologetically. “But when I was hunting +for the way into the barn, I found the ducks. +Let’s go and tell Grandma we saw ’em.”</p> +<p>It was noon by this time, so the Hatch +children went home and Sunny Boy and +Jimmie walked together to the house. It +had stopped raining, and the sun felt warm +and delightful.</p> +<p>“Of course you may have a duck,” said +Grandma, when Sunny Boy told her of his +find. “That foolish old mother duck +marched off with her children one morning +and I couldn’t for the life of me discover +where she had gone. And Grandpa must +board over that hole if you are going to play +in the haymow. Another time you might +hurt yourself, falling like that.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p> +<p>“Where’s Mother?” asked Sunny Boy, +eager to tell her about the morning’s fun.</p> +<p>“I believe she is up in the attic,” returned +Grandma. “She’s been up there for an hour +or so. I wish, lambie, you’d run and find +her and say dinner will be on the table in +half an hour.”</p> +<p>Sunny climbed the crooked, steep stairs +that led to Grandma’s attic, and found +Mother bending over an old trunk dragged +out to the middle of the floor.</p> +<p>“Mother,” he began as soon as he saw her, +“we’ve been sliding on the hay, and I found +a duck mother, an’ Grandma gave me a +duck for my own. What are you doing, +Mother?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton was sitting on the floor, her +lap filled with a bundle of old letters.</p> +<p>“I’ve been having a delightful morning, +too,” she said. “Grandma started to go +over these old trunks with me, and then +some one called her on the telephone and she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +had to go down. See, precious, here is a +picture of Daddy when he was a little +boy.”</p> +<p>Sunny looked over her shoulder and saw +a photograph of a stiff little boy in stiff velvet +skirt and jacket, standing by a table, one +small hand resting solemnly on a book.</p> +<p>“He doesn’t look comfy,” objected Sunny. +“Is it really Daddy? And did little boys +wear petticoats then, Mother?”</p> +<p>“That isn’t a petticoat, it is a kilt,” explained +Mother. “You know what kilts +are, dear—you’ve seen the Scotch soldiers +wear them. Well, when Daddy was a little +boy they wore kilts, and trousers underneath. +And Grandma was telling me this morning +that as soon as Daddy was out of her sight +he would take off his kilt and go about in +his blouse and trousers. So probably he +considered the kilt a petticoat just as you +do.”</p> +<p>Sunny wandered over to another trunk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +that stood open and poked an inquiring hand +down into its depths.</p> +<p>“What’s this, Mother?” he asked, holding +up a queer, square little cap.</p> +<p>“Be careful, precious, that is Grandpa’s +Civil War trunk,” warned Mother, coming +over to him. “Grandmother meant to put +the things out to air to-day and then it +rained. See, dear, this is the cap he wore, +and the old blue coat, and this is his knapsack. +Some day you must ask Grandpa to +come up here with you and tell you war +stories.”</p> +<p>“Where’s his sword?” asked Sunny, fingering +the cap with interest. “Where was +Daddy then? Was Grandpa shot?”</p> +<p>“Grandpa didn’t have a sword, because +he wasn’t an officer,” explained Mother. +“He was only a boy when he enlisted, and +it was long before there was any Daddy, +dear. And Grandpa was wounded—I’m +sure I’ve told you that before—don’t you remember? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +That’s how he met Grandma. +She was a little girl and met him in the hospital +where her father, who was a physician, +was attending Grandpa.”</p> +<p>“Olive! Sunny! Dinner’s ready!” It +was Grandma standing at the foot of the +stairs and calling them.</p> +<p>“I forgot to tell you,” said Sunny hastily. +“Dinner will be on the table in half an +hour, Grandma said.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton smiled.</p> +<p>“I think the half hour has gone by,” she +declared, closing the lid of Grandpa’s trunk. +“Come, dear, we must go right down and +not keep them waiting.”</p> +<p>“Are you going to eat your duck?” asked +Grandpa, when they were seated at the dinner +table.</p> +<p>“My, no!” answered Sunny Boy, shocked.</p> +<p>He never believed that the chickens and +ducks they had for Sunday dinners were the +same pretty feathered creatures he saw walking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +about the farm. Chickens and ducks +one ate, thought Sunny Boy, were always the +kind he remembered hanging up in the markets +at home—without any feathers or heads. +He was sure they grew that way, somewhere.</p> +<p>“He doesn’t have to eat his duck,” comforted +Grandma. “I’m going to make something +he likes this afternoon. If you and +Olive are going to drive over to town, Sunny +and I will be busy in the kitchen.”</p> +<p>“Saucer pies!” cried Sunny Boy. “I can +help, can’t I, Grandma?”</p> +<p>If there was one thing Sunny Boy loved +to do, it was to be allowed to watch his +grandma bake pies. He could ask a hundred +questions and always be sure of an answer, +he could taste the contents of every +one of the row of little brown spice boxes, +and, best of all, there was a special little pie +baked for him in a saucer that he could eat +the minute it was baked and cool. No wonder +Sunny Boy kissed Mother contentedly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +and watched her drive away with Grandpa +for a little shopping in town. He, Sunny +Boy, was going to help Grandma bake apple +pies.</p> +<p>“Here’s your chair, and here’s a pound +Sweeting for you,” Araminta greeted him as +he trotted into the kitchen.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy scrambled into his place opposite +Grandma at the white table.</p> +<p>“Now this won’t be a very good pie,” said +Grandma, as she began to mix the pie crust.</p> +<p>Dear Grandma always said that about her +pies, even the one that won the prize at the +big fair.</p> +<p>“These apples are too sweet. But your +grandfather can never wait. He has to +have an apple pie the minute the first apple +ripens.”</p> +<p>“So do I,” announced Sunny Boy. +“What’s in this little can, Grandma?”</p> +<p>“Cinnamon, lambie,” answered Grandma. +“Don’t sniff it like that—you’ll sneeze.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p> +<p>Sunny Boy munched his apple and +watched her as she rolled out the crust.</p> +<p>“How many, Grandma?” he asked.</p> +<p>Araminta, peeling apples over by the window, +laughed.</p> +<p>“He’s just like his grandfather,” she said. +“Mr. Horton always says, ‘How many pies +are you going to make, Mother?’ doesn’t +he?”</p> +<p>“Why does Grandpa call you Mother?” +inquired Sunny Boy of Grandma. “You’re +not his mamma.”</p> +<p>“No. But you see I suppose when your +daddy was a little chap around the house, +and calling me and calling me ‘Mother’ sixty times a day, +as you do your mamma, Grandpa got in the +habit of saying ‘Mother,’ too. And habits, +you know, Sunny Boy, are the funny little +things that stay with us.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know—we had ’em in Sunday +school,” agreed Sunny absently. “Is that +my pie?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span></p> +<p>“That’s your pie, lambie,” declared +Grandma, smiling. “One, two, three large +ones, and a saucer pie for my own laddie. +How much sugar shall I put in for you, +Sunny Boy?”</p> +<p>“A bushel,” replied Sunny Boy confidently. +“Let me shake the brown powder, +Grandma.”</p> +<p>So Sunny Boy sprinkled in the cinnamon, +and Grandma added dots of butter and put +on the crust. Then she cut little slits in it +“so the apples can breathe” and then that +pie was ready for the oven.</p> +<p>“Now I’m going up to change my dress +while they’re baking,” said Grandma, taking +off her apron. “If you want to stay here +with Araminta, all right, Sunny. I’ll be +back in time to take the pies out.”</p> +<p>Araminta bustled about, washing the table +top and putting away the salt and sugar +and spice box and all the things Grandma +had used for her baking. Sunny Boy ate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +his apple quietly and waited for Grandma +to come back.</p> +<p>“My land of Goshen!” Araminta +stopped to peer out of the window over the +sink. “Here’s company driving in. If it +isn’t Mrs. Lawyer Allen, and she always +stays till supper time! And your Grandma’s +pies not out of the oven!”</p> +<p>Grandma, too, had seen the gray horse +and buggy, and she hurried down in her +pretty black and white dress.</p> +<p>“Hook my collar, please, Araminta,” she +whispered. “And I am sure the pies are +done. You can take them out very carefully +and set them where they’ll cool. +You’ll be good, won’t you, lambie? There +goes the door-bell.”</p> +<p>Grandma rustled away to meet her company, +and Araminta opened the oven door +importantly. She was seldom trusted to +take the pies from the oven alone, and she +felt very grown-up indeed to have Sunny +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +Boy see her do it. She got the three pies +out nicely, and the little saucer pie, too, and +carried them into the pantry to cool. She +set them on a shelf over the flour barrel.</p> +<p>“Grandma puts them on the table,” suggested +Sunny Boy.</p> +<p>“Well, I put them on the shelf,” said Araminta +shortly. “I don’t believe in leaving +pies around where any one can get ’em.”</p> +<p>Now Araminta was in a hurry to go home, +for it was three o’clock, and every afternoon +from three to five she was allowed to spend +as she pleased. So, though she made the +kitchen nice and neat before she left, in her +hurry she forgot to put the lid on the flour +barrel, something Grandma always did.</p> +<p>“I’m going,” said Araminta, putting on +her hat with a jerk. “Mind you don’t get +into any mischief, and don’t go bothering +your grandma. Mrs. Lawyer Allen is nervous, +and she doesn’t like children.”</p> +<p>Araminta, you see, had so many brothers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +and sisters younger than herself that she +gave advice to every child she met.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was perfectly willing to be +good, but he was equally determined to have +his saucer pie. It was his own pie, made +and intended for him, and Araminta had no +business to put it on a shelf out of his reach. +As soon as the kitchen door closed he got a +chair and dragged it into the pantry.</p> +<p>“It’s mine,” he told himself, as he stood +on the chair.</p> +<p>He pushed a white bowl out of the way, +for he remembered the yellow custard he had +knocked over on his first adventure in +Grandma’s pantry. He put his hand on his +pie and had it safe when Bruce began to +bark suddenly outside the window. Sunny +Boy leaned over to see out the window, the +chair tipped, and with a crash a frightened +little boy fell into the flour barrel which the +careless Araminta had left uncovered directly +under the shelf. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>The noise of the falling chair brought +Grandma and her visitor to the pantry.</p> +<p>“What in the world!” cried Mrs. Allen, +as a small white-faced figure stared at her +over the edge of the barrel. “What is it?”</p> +<p>“It’s me,” said Sunny Boy forlornly. +“There’s flour all in me, Grandma!”</p> +<p>Grandma had to laugh.</p> +<p>“All over you,” she corrected. “My dear +child, are you hurt? And what were you +doing to get in the barrel?”</p> +<p>Grandma lifted Sunny Boy out and carried +him to the back porch and told him +to shake himself as Bruce did after swimming +in the brook. Only, instead of water, +clouds of flour came out of Sunny Boy’s +clothes as he tried to shake like a dog.</p> +<p>“I was getting my saucer pie, Grandma,” +he explained when she came back with a +whisk-broom and began to brush him vigorously. +“If I had some cinnamon I’d be a +pie, wouldn’t I?”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +<img src='images/sunny-166.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 348px; height: 500px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 348px;'> +With a crash a frightened little boy fell into the flour barrel.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_MORE_MISCHIEF' id='XIII_MORE_MISCHIEF'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>MORE MISCHIEF</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Grandma finally had Sunny +Boy all dusted free from flour, she +asked him if he thought he could keep out +of mischief till supper time.</p> +<p>He was sure he could, and ran off to find +Jimmie while Grandma and Mrs. Allen +went back to finish their interrupted visit.</p> +<p>“Hello, Sunny,” Jimmie greeted him. +Jimmie was mending a piece of the orchard +fence. “What are you eating—pie?”</p> +<p>For Grandma had seen to it that Sunny +had his saucer pie—grandmas are like that, +you know.</p> +<p>“Want a bite?” asked Sunny.</p> +<p>But Jimmie, it seemed, had been eating +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +apples all the afternoon and he did not care +for apple pie.</p> +<p>“Let me help,” urged Sunny. “I can +hold the fence up, Jimmie.”</p> +<p>“You can stay around and talk, if you +want to,” conceded Jimmie. “It’s kind of +lonesome working all alone. But, Sunny, +honestly I can’t mend this fence if you are +going to sit on it and wiggle.”</p> +<p>Sunny slid down hastily.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know I was wiggling,” he apologized. +“Do you learn to mend fence at +agri—agri—”</p> +<p>“Agricultural college?” supplied Jimmie. +“No, I guess that comes natural. Will you +hand me one of those long nails, please?”</p> +<p>Sunny handed the nail absently. He +was thinking of other things.</p> +<p>“Are you a farmer like Grandpa, Jimmie?” +he asked.</p> +<p>Jimmie finished pounding in his nail before +he answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></p> +<p>“Seems like I tinker up this section of +fence every other week,” he confided. “Am +I a farmer like your grandpa? Well, no, +not yet, but I aim to be. You thinking of +farming, too?”</p> +<p>Sunny considered this gravely.</p> +<p>“I might be a farmer,” he admitted. +“Only I think I would rather be a postman. +Could I, Jimmie?”</p> +<p>“Of course,” encouraged Jimmie. +“Nothing to stop you. And if, when you +grow up, you find you would rather be something +else, why, there’s no harm done. I’ve +heard that your father wanted to drive a +hansom cab for a life job when he was your +age. And now, instead, he drives his own +automobile.”</p> +<p>“I think,” announced Sunny thoughtfully, +“it’s a good plan to think about what you +want to be when you grow up and then you +won’t be s’prised when you find out what +you are.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>Jimmie’s mouth was too full of nails for +him to answer, but he nodded.</p> +<p>“You’ll swallow a nail,” worried Sunny. +“Our dressmaker did, once. Only it was a +pin. What is this for, Jimmie?”</p> +<p>“Wire clippers,” explained Jimmie +briefly. “Cut wires with ’em, you know. +Leave them right there, Sunny.”</p> +<p>Jimmie was wrestling with a bit of wire +that was hard to stretch into place. Sunny +picked up the wire clippers and studied +them carefully.</p> +<p>“I wonder how they work?” he said to +himself. “Like Mother’s scissors? If I +only had a piece of wire I could see.”</p> +<p>Now the only wires, as Sunny very well +knew, were those stretched between the +posts. He did so wonder if the wire clippers +really could cut that thick wire! Jimmie’s +back was toward him. Sunny rested +the clippers on the top wire. He wouldn’t +really press them, just pretend to. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></p> +<p>Snip! the heavy strand of wire parted as +though it had been a string.</p> +<p>“Give me those clippers!” Jimmie bore +down upon him crossly. “I told you to +leave ’em alone. Now see what you’ve +done! Look here, Sunny, can’t you keep +out of trouble long enough for me to finish +this fence?”</p> +<p>Sunny yielded the clippers reluctantly. +He had not known they were so sharp. +Jimmie need not have been so cross, he +thought.</p> +<p>“I want to do something different,” Sunny +complained.</p> +<p>Jimmie wisely decided to give him something +to do.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t you drive that mother duck and +her ducklings up to the chicken yard?” he +asked, pointing to the same ducks Sunny had +discovered in the dairy. “I know your +grandmother wants to shut them up to-night +and that mother duck is just working her way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +down to the brook. I want to finish this +fence before I call it a day, so if you want to +be useful, here’s your chance.”</p> +<p>Of course Sunny Boy wanted to be useful, +and he started after Mother Duck and +her family. If you have ever tried to argue +with a duck you will know that it does no +good to tell her where she should go—ducks +are like some people, they like to have their +own way. This mother duck had made up +her mind that she was going to take her family +down to the brook, and Sunny Boy had to +race up and down the orchard and “shoo” +her from behind trees and be patient a long +time before he could get her started in the +direction of the chicken yard. Then, once +out of the orchard, she caught a glimpse of +Araminta, who had come back—for it was +five o’clock—and was scattering cracked +corn for the chickens. The duck mother +was hungry, and she started to run toward +the chicken yard. Sunny Boy could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +scarcely keep up with her, and the poor little +baby ducks were left away behind.</p> +<p>“Let ’em be—they’ll follow her!” cried +Araminta, and she scattered a little corn in +an empty coop.</p> +<p>The duck mother waddled right inside, +and Araminta put up a bar that fastened her +in.</p> +<p>“I think she has too many duck babies,” +said Sunny Boy, watching as the ducklings +came up to the coop and began to hunt for +corn.</p> +<p>“Yes, she has,” agreed Araminta. “But +she can keep them all warm, I guess.”</p> +<p>“I know what I can do,” suggested Sunny +Boy, but Araminta was hurrying to the house +after bread and milk to feed the duck babies +and she did not ask him what he could do.</p> +<p>Mrs. Allen stayed to supper, and very +soon after Mrs. Horton said that Sunny Boy +looked sleepy and must go to bed. He seldom +took a nap any more, and as he woke up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +early in the mornings, his mother said it was +certain that he must go to bed earlier to make +up for it.</p> +<p>All the time Mother was helping him undress, +Sunny Boy was very quiet, and after +she had kissed him and tucked him in bed he +did not ask her for a story as he usually did.</p> +<p>“You’ve been playing too hard, I think,” +said Mrs. Horton. “Good night and pleasant +dreams, dearest.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy waited till she had closed the +door. Then he hopped out of bed and pattered +over to another door that led into +Grandma’s room. When he came back he +had two baby ducks in his hands.</p> +<p>“There now, you can sleep in my bed,” +he told them, putting them down under the +sheet.</p> +<p>But the baby ducks did not like the soft, +clean bed. They made funny little peeping +noises, and as soon as Sunny Boy climbed +into bed, one of them fell out and ran across +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +the floor. Sunny Boy chased it under the +bureau, and then he heard Mother calling.</p> +<p>“Sunny!”</p> +<p>He opened the door a crack.</p> +<p>“Yes, Mother?”</p> +<p>“I hear you running around up there. +You don’t want Mother to have to come up +and punish you, do you? Go back to bed +and go to sleep like a good boy.”</p> +<p>“Yes’m,” said Sunny.</p> +<p>He might have explained that he was +good, but the ducks were certainly as bad as +they could be. It was still light enough in +the room for him to see the furniture, but try +as he might he could not get that foolish, obstinate +frightened little duck to come out +from behind the bureau. Finally he gave it +up and went to bed to take care of the other +one, and that fell or jumped out on the other +side of the bed and poor Sunny had to get +up again and try to find it. The foolish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +thing let him chase it under the bed, and he +was half way under and half way out when +Grandpa opened the bedroom door.</p> +<p>“Look here, Sunny, what are you up to +now?” began Grandpa. “Your mother is +tired and she sent me up to settle you. My +soul, boy! what are you doing under the +bed?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy wriggled out and turned a +flushed face to Grandpa.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” he said, beginning to climb +into bed.</p> +<p>Grandpa was helping him smooth the tangled +covers when one of the ducks began to +peep.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” said he sharply. “Sunny, +what have you got in here? What’s that +noise?”</p> +<p>“It’s a duck,” confessed Sunny Boy reluctantly.</p> +<p>Grandpa sat down on the bed.</p> +<p>“A duck? Up here?” he gasped. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +“Why, how on earth did a duck get in the +house?”</p> +<p>“I did it,” admitted Sunny. “The duck +mother had too many children, and I was +going to take care of some of ’em for her. +But they wouldn’t stay in bed. I could sail +’em in the bath-tub in the mornings.”</p> +<p>Grandpa began to laugh, and then he +could not stop. He laughed till the tears +came, and Mrs. Horton heard him and came +up to scold them both. Grandma followed, +and there they all sat on the bed, Grandpa +and Mother and Grandma, all laughing as +hard as they could.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy did not think it was funny a +bit, and when he found that Grandpa was +going to take his ducks back to their own +mother that night he began to cry.</p> +<p>“By and by they would like it here,” he +sobbed. “I haven’t my woolly dog, and I +need a duck. Can’t I have one, Grandpa?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was far from being a cry-baby, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +but he was sleepy and that made him feel +unhappy, though he thought it was the +ducks. That’s a trick of the sandman’s—making +you cry easily when you’re sleepy. +However this time Grandpa was firm, and +he managed to get the duck under the bed +and the one back of the bureau and carry +them down to their mother. And very glad +they were to get there, we may believe. +Sunny Boy went to sleep in five minutes, and +long before morning had forgotten he ever +wanted baby ducks to spend the night with +him.</p> +<p>One morning, a week or more later, he +was playing on the shady side porch when +he heard Grandpa saying something to +Mother about bonds. Ever since Sunny +Boy had lost his kite and Grandpa’s bonds +with it, he always noticed when any one used +that word. No one ever spoke to him about +the lost money, and he often forgot about +it, with so many wonderful things to do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +every day. And then, a word or two would +make him remember again.</p> +<p>“I lie awake at night worrying over those +bonds, Father,” Mrs. Horton was saying. +“Harry may be able to make it up to you +some day, but he’s having a hard time this +summer. I’ve been out and looked and +looked—some one must have picked them +up.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I suppose they have,” said +Grandpa. “I advertised, and the Bonds +were numbered. Still, as you say, some one +must have found them. Don’t let it spoil +your Summer, Olive, I’ve only myself to +blame. At my age carelessness is nothing +short of a crime.”</p> +<p>“But at your age a thousand dollars is a +great deal to lose,” protested Mrs. Horton. +“And I know you meant to take a trip South +this Winter, and Harry tells me you’ve +given that up.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy could hear tears in Mother’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +soft voice, and he was sure she had tears in +her lovely brown eyes. He made up his +mind what to do.</p> +<p>He trotted through the wide hall, into the +sitting-room. There sat Grandpa figuring +at his desk and close beside him was Mother +with her knitting. There were bright drops +on the dark blue wool. She had been crying, +though she smiled at Sunny as he stood +in the doorway.</p> +<p>“Grandpa, listen!” Sunny Boy cried. +“You can have all the money in my bank at +home. I’ve been saving it for, oh, ever so +long. There’s a thousand dollars, I guess. +An’ you can have it all—every bit. Daddy +will send it to you if I ask him. An’ then +you won’t care ’bout the Lib’ty Bonds!”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was surprised at the way his +offer was received. He had thought +Grandpa would be pleased and his mother, +too. And here sat Grandpa blowing his +nose, and as for his mother—Sunny Boy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +looked at her and her eyes were quite brimming +over.</p> +<p>“Don’t you like me to?” he cried. “I was +going to buy another drum, but Grandpa can +have the money. It’s a pink pig, Grandpa, +and you shake it an’ the pennies drop out. +Harriet gave it to me.” Sunny Boy’s lip began +to quiver.</p> +<p>“My dear little son!” Mother held out +her arms and Sunny Boy ran to her. “My +generous little man!” she whispered. +“Your pennies wouldn’t be enough, precious. +But I’m proud to have you offer +them to Grandpa to try to make up his loss. +That’s like your father.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy sat up and stopped crying. +To be like his father was the highest praise +his mother could give him.</p> +<p>“Thank you very much, Sunny,” said +Grandpa gravely. “I couldn’t take your +bank. For one reason, we’re not sure yet +the bonds are really lost. But I tell you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +what I will do—if I ever get out of cash, +entirely out, mind you, and have to borrow +from my friends, I’ll come to you. There +are very few I’d bring myself to borrow +from, but perhaps it’s different with a grandson. +You save your pennies, and maybe +some day I’ll ask you to lend me some. +Shall we shake hands on it?”</p> +<p>And Sunny Boy and Grandpa shook hands +solemnly, like two business men.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_ANOTHER_HUNT' id='XIV_ANOTHER_HUNT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>ANOTHER HUNT</h3> +</div> + +<p>“And now,” declared Grandpa, putting +on his wide-brimmed hat and +reaching for his cane, “it’s high time I was +out looking after Mr. Hatch. Where are +you going, Sunny Boy?”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was darting off as though a +new idea had seized him.</p> +<p>“Out,” he answered vaguely. His mind +was intent on his plan.</p> +<p>“Well, Grandma and I have the picnic to +plan,” cried Mrs. Horton gayly. “If we are +going to have that long-promised picnic before +we go home, I for one think it is high +time we set a day.”</p> +<p>Sunny Boy, lingering in the doorway, +heard Grandpa grumble a little as he always +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +did if anything was said about their going +home.</p> +<p>“No reason why you shouldn’t stay here +all Summer,” he scolded. “Or if you want +to be nearer Harry, Olive, leave the boy +with us. You know we’d take good care +of him.”</p> +<p>“I know you would; but I couldn’t leave +my baby,” Mrs. Horton said quickly. +“Bessie, my sister, you know, has a plan—”</p> +<p>But Araminta called Sunny just then and +he ran off without hearing about Aunt Bessie’s +plan.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy had a plan of his own, and he +was determined to carry it through. This +was nothing less than to go and hunt for +Grandpa’s lost Liberty Bonds.</p> +<p>“For I know that kite fell down right by +the old walnut tree,” said Sunny Boy to himself +for the twentieth time. “I saw it go +down—swish! I’ll bet Grandpa didn’t +look under the right tree.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p> +<p>Without much trouble he coaxed a big +piece of gingerbread from Araminta—who +was very curious to learn where he was going—which +he crowded into his pocket. +Expecting to be gone a long time, he took +an apple from the basket on the dining-room +table and two bananas. Bruce, lying on the +back door mat, decided to go with him, but +Bruce was beginning to get the least little +bit fat and old, and when he had followed +Sunny as far as the brook pasture and saw +that he had no intention of stopping to rest +under the trees, that wise collie dog turned +and went back to the house.</p> +<p>“Hey, there! Where are you going this +hot day?” Jimmie, setting out tomato +plants in a side field, shouted to him.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy waved his hand and plodded +on. He was a silent child when he had his +mind fixed on a certain thing, and he was +intent on finding those bonds this morning.</p> +<p>The sun was hot, and when he reached the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +pretty brook the water looked so clear and +cool that Sunny was tempted to go wading. +Only he had promised his mother not to go +in the water unless some one was with him, +and then, too, wading would delay the hunt +for the bonds. He walked along the bank +until he came to the uneven line of stones +piled together to make a crossing.</p> +<p>“I spect it wabbles,” said Sunny Boy +aloud, putting one foot on a stone, which +certainly did “teeter.”</p> +<p>He started to cross slowly, and in the +middle of the stream his right foot slipped—splash!—into +the icy cold water.</p> +<p>“My land sakes!” gasped poor Sunny +Boy, who was certainly acquiring a number +of new words, much to his mother’s worry. +“I guess that water’s as cold as—as our icebox +at home.”</p> +<p>With one wet foot and one dry foot he +finished his journey and landed safely on +the other side of the brook. He was hungry +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +by then, and so sat down to eat the gingerbread +under a large tree whose roots had +grown far out over the water.</p> +<p>“Tick-tack! Tick-tack! Tick—t-a-c-k!” +scolded some one directly over his head.</p> +<p>“Don’t be cross, Mr. Squirrel!” said +Sunny Boy politely. “Grandpa says when +you make a noise like that you’re either +frightened or want folks to go away and not +bother you. I’m going in a minute.”</p> +<p>Throwing the crumbs of the gingerbread +into the brook for the little fish to enjoy, +Sunny Boy marched straight for the woods. +He had never been there alone, and somehow +they seemed darker and deeper than he +remembered them when Grandpa or Daddy +had been with him.</p> +<p>“I’ll begin to look now,” said Sunny, talking +to himself for company. And how small +his voice sounded, and thin, under those tall, +silent trees!</p> +<p>“Maybe I’ll see a Brownie,” Sunny continued. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +“I think Bruce might have come all +the way. What was that?”</p> +<p>A twig snapped under his foot with a +sharp noise. Noises are always creepy +when one is alone in a strange place. Sunny +sat down to rest a minute, on a half-buried +tree-stump.</p> +<p>A black beetle came out, ran along a weed-stalk, +climbed up to the top and sat there, +regarding Sunny steadily.</p> +<p>“Do you like living here?” asked Sunny +politely. “I wish you could talk, Mr. Beetle. +Maybe you’ve seen the Lib’ty Bonds +somewhere an’ you’d tell me just where to +look.”</p> +<p>The beetle winked his beady eyes rapidly, +but of course he didn’t say a word.</p> +<p>Presently a striped chipmunk appeared on +a stump opposite the one where Sunny sat, +and he, too, stared at Sunny intently.</p> +<p>“I’m going! I’m going right away!” +Sunny assured the chipmunk hastily. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +“Daddy says you wood folks like to be alone. +I wouldn’t hurt you, but I s’pose you don’t +know that.”</p> +<p>He trotted along, eating the bananas as +he went. There were so many things to +look at and think about that sometimes he +almost forgot the Liberty Bonds. Almost, +but not quite.</p> +<p>“’Cause I just have to find ’em,” he told a +blue jay that sat up in a tree and listened +sympathetically. “I’m mose sure Grandpa +didn’t look in the right place. An’ won’t he +like it when I come home with them in my +pocket!”</p> +<p>Sunny was so pleased with this idea that +he gave a little shout and threw his cap up +into the air, which so alarmed the blue jay +that it quickly flew away.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy was marching steadily, hands +in his pockets, when he saw something near +a stone that made him stop to look. It was +a turtle. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p> +<p>“Why didn’t you run?” Sunny demanded, +picking up the turtle carefully, as he had +seen Jimmie do. “Maybe you’re the one +Grandpa carved his initials and the date on +when he came here to live. Are you?”</p> +<p>The turtle kept his head obstinately in. +Very likely he objected to being picked up +and looked at so closely. Sunny brushed +him off neatly with his clean handkerchief, +and, sure enough, on the shell he found a +date carved.</p> +<p>“I can’t read it,” mourned Sunny aloud. +“But I guess you’re not Grandpa’s turtle, +’cause you haven’t any initials on you. I +wish you’d put your head out, just once.”</p> +<p>But, though he put the turtle gently on +the ground again and kept very still for at +least five minutes, the queer, narrow little +head stayed safely in its shell house. The +turtle did not run away.</p> +<p>“Guess he thinks I’ll catch him if he +runs,” thought Sunny. “I’d like to keep +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +him if he was little. Jimmie says little turtles +are nice to keep in the garden. Maybe +I can find one on the way back, and build +him a little house under Grandma’s rose +bushes.”</p> +<p>Sunny went on, and soon he was sure that +he was coming to the place where he had seen +his kite fall. To be sure, the inside of the +woods looked very different from the outside, +and Sunny began to understand why he +and Grandfather had not found the bonds as +easily as they had hoped to. Still, he felt +he was “getting warm” as they say in the +games of seeking, and he began to look about +him closely.</p> +<p>“It was right here—” His apple fell out +of his blouse and he stooped to pick it up. +He sprang up with a shriek and ran screaming +toward an opening in the woods.</p> +<p>“It was a snake—a great, big, nasty, bitey +snake!” he sobbed. “I put my hand right +on it—all slippy and cold!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p> +<p>He looked back—was it a snake after all? +What was that curved black thing that lay +there so quietly at the foot of a tree?</p> +<p>Then Sunny Boy did a very brave thing +indeed. He was all alone, remember, and +there was no one to laugh at him had he gone +on home believing that he had touched a +snake. But he liked to be very sure in his +own mind, and he went back, cautiously and +ready to run if a twig snapped, but back, +nevertheless, to the place where he thought +he had seen the snake. Any one, you know, +may be frightened, but to face the fear and +see if it is an afraid thought, or something +really scary—that takes a truly brave person. +And always afterward Sunny Boy was +to be glad that he had had the courage to go +back and see.</p> +<p>For his snake was only an old twisted tree +root, after all!</p> +<p>“But I guess it’s dinner time, an’ I can +come again an’ look for the bonds,” he told a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +chipmunk. “Maybe Jimmie will come to-morrow +and help hunt.”</p> +<p>This time Sunny Boy crossed the stone +crossing without getting either foot wet and +he was half way up to the house when he saw +Peter and Paul standing hitched to the +fence. They had been hauling the tomato +plants for Jimmie and Grandpa, who was always +kind to the farm animals, had ordered +them to be unharnessed and tied in the shade +while the plants were being set out.</p> +<p>“No horse likes to be anchored to a wagon +when ’tisn’t necessary,” said kind Grandpa.</p> +<p>“Jimmie’s always saying he will let me +ride Peter,” grumbled Sunny Boy, looking +very little as he stood by the fence, fumbling +with the strap that tied Peter fast. “Pretty +soon we’ll be going home, Mother says, and +I won’t ever learn to ride.”</p> +<p>Sunny’s busy, mischievous fingers had +untied the strap as he talked, and now Peter +could have walked away to the barn and his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +dinner, had he only known it. He didn’t +though, and so he was very much surprised +to feel little feet digging into him as Sunny +Boy scrambled desperately to get on his +back. Peter and Paul were fat and slow or +they never would have stood the antics of +Sunny as that small person, clinging to +Peter’s mane, and using Paul as a kind of +step-ladder, pushed and pulled and climbed +till he found himself where he wished to be—on +Peter’s broad back.</p> +<p>“Gee, you’re a tall horse!” he observed, +gathering the halter strap in one hand as he +had seen Jimmie take the reins. “Oh, +there’s what you ought to have on—I didn’t +see it.”</p> +<p>The bridles and reins lay on the ground +where Jimmie had dropped them when he +had unharnessed the horses from the wagon. +But Sunny Boy was not minded to get down +after such a trifle—he had had too much +trouble to secure his present seat. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></p> +<p>“Gid-ap!” he said loudly, and jerked the +halter strap.</p> +<p>Over in the field, Jimmie straightened an +aching young back and gazed in amazement.</p> +<p>“Say—hey, Sunny—Sunny Horton! Get +off that horse—do you hear me?” he +shouted.</p> +<p>Sunny Boy heard. He turned and +grinned impishly. He delighted to plague +Jimmie, and he was having fun guiding +Peter.</p> +<p>Then Jimmie rather lost his head. Had +he kept still, Peter would probably have +ambled gently about the meadow, perhaps +turned into the road that led to the house +and barn, and Sunny’s adventure might have +been a very mild one. But Jimmie was +frightened, and in his fear he did the one +thing that could have brought about what +he feared. He leaped the fence and came +running toward the horse.</p> +<p>“Gid-ap, Peter! Go ’long! Hurry!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +Sunny slapped the strap smartly across old +Peter’s neck.</p> +<p>That easy-going horse was not used to +such treatment, and he broke into a trot. +Jimmie began to shout and wave his arms. +Then Peter broke into a gallop, taking great, +long easy strides that seemed to cover miles +of ground to Sunny’s excited eyes.</p> +<p>“You kind of bump!” he gasped, as the +horse galloped on. “I wonder—will—I—fall +off!”</p> +<p>Peter snorted. He had forgotten how it +felt to be running free, and perhaps he was +pretending he was a young colt again. He +paid no more attention to the small boy on +his back than if Sunny Boy had been a fly.</p> +<p>Around and around the field they tore. +Jimmie’s shouts had brought Grandpa, +and together the two watched in terrible +anxiety.</p> +<p>“I’d get on Paul and chase ’em, but Peter +can outrun him any day!” Jimmie almost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +sobbed. “Say! I know what will do it. +You wait, sir.”</p> +<p>He ran up to the barn and came back with +a peck measure of corn. Paul saw the long +yellow ears and whinnied with pleasure.</p> +<p>“You don’t get any,” Jimmie informed +him. “Lucky they hadn’t had their dinner,” +he said to Grandpa. He stood out from the +fence and rattled the measure invitingly, +and whistled.</p> +<p>Now Peter was not a colt, however much +he might enjoy pretending, and he was +getting tired of his gallop. Also he was +hungry, and he had heard Paul whinny. So +when Jimmie whistled, the old, familiar +whistle he always gave when he came in the +barn at feeding time, Peter turned and +stared. Yes, there he stood, down at the +other end of the field, and yes, he had corn +with him.</p> +<p>Peter slowed down to a gentle run, then +to a half trot, and finally came walking at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +his usual gentle gait straight up to Jimmie +and Grandpa.</p> +<p>“Sunny, Sunny, what will you do next?” +groaned Grandpa, lifting him down. “I +hope your mother didn’t see this—she would +be frightened to death.”</p> +<p>“It didn’t hurt me,” urged Sunny Boy, beginning +to wonder if he had done wrong. +“I is bumped a little, but I wasn’t afraid, +Grandpa. Was Jimmie?”</p> +<p>“You young imp!” Jimmie swooped down +upon him and hugged him so hard Sunny +squirmed uneasily. “You bet I was scared! +I thought every minute you’d tumble off. +And now do you want to ride up to the barn +with me, or have you had enough?”</p> +<p>“I’ll ride with you,” said Sunny firmly.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_SUNNY_S_GOOD_LUCK' id='XV_SUNNY_S_GOOD_LUCK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>SUNNY’S GOOD LUCK</h3> +</div> + +<p>“There!” Grandma, a pretty picture +in her white dress that matched her +white hair, closed the side door. “Now +we’re really started.”</p> +<p>She and Grandpa and Mother and Sunny +Boy were going for their long-talked-of picnic +in the woods. Araminta had the day for +a holiday and had gone merrily off to town +to buy herself a new frock. Sunny had +wanted Jimmie to come to the picnic, but +Jimmie, too, was away. He had gone down +to the city to sell hay for Grandpa. So it +happened that just the four were to spend +the day in the woods.</p> +<p>“What we’ll do without you, Sunny,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +said Grandpa, as they walked ahead, “I’m +sure I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“But I’ll send you some of the sand,” +urged Sunny cheerfully. “And a seashell, +Grandpa.”</p> +<p>For this was Aunt Bessie’s plan. She had +written Mrs. Horton that she and a friend, +a teacher, had taken a cottage at the seashore +for the month of August, and they +wanted Sunny Boy and his mother to come +and spend that month with them. The cottage +was near enough to the city for Mr. +Horton to go down every night and stay +with them.</p> +<p>“And two weeks from to-day,” Mrs. +Horton had told Sunny Boy as he brushed +his hair that morning, “you will be going +down to the beach with a tin pail and shovel, +I expect, to play in the sand.”</p> +<p>Grandpa, carrying two boxes of lunch and +a little camp chair that folded up—because +Grandma had aches in her joints if she tried +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +to sit on the ground—smiled down at his +grandson.</p> +<p>“Oh, well, we shall just have to have as +much fun as we can while you’re here,” he +said firmly. “Let’s have a perfectly fine +picnic with all the sandwiches we can eat +to-day.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” agreed Sunny enthusiastically. +“Let’s.”</p> +<p>“Sunny, what have you found there?” +asked Grandpa after a while.</p> +<p>“It’s a bird,” said Sunny pitifully. “A +poor, little dead bird, Grandpa. See?”</p> +<p>He brought back the little feathered body +he had found at the foot of a tall oak tree, +and showed them.</p> +<p>“It’s a baby robin,” said Grandma, touching +the little thing gently. “It must have +fallen out of the nest. Don’t grieve, lambie, +nothing can hurt the little bird +now.”</p> +<p>“I want to bury it,” insisted Sunny, tears +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +running down his face. “I don’t want to +leave it on the ground, Grandma.”</p> +<p>“All right, you shall bury it,” said Grandpa +soothingly. “I’ll help you. Mother, +you and Olive walk along slowly and we’ll +catch up to you.”</p> +<p>So Grandma and Sunny’s mother walked +ahead, and Grandpa began to help Sunny +bury the baby robin.</p> +<p>First, they found a wide, smooth green +leaf that grew in the woods and wrapped this +about the dead bird and fastened it with the +sharp little thorns that grew on another +plant and which were every bit as good as +pins.</p> +<p>“Now you gather the prettiest fern leaves +you can find,” directed Grandpa. “And +I’ll dig him a little grave.”</p> +<p>When Sunny Boy came back with his +hands full of soft fern leaves, Grandpa had +a little square hollowed out in the earth, +under a Jack in the Pulpit plant. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></p> +<p>“We’ll line it with ferns, so,” he said, arranging +the leaves Sunny Boy brought him, +“and then we’ll put the bird in so, and cover +him up carefully. There! Now we’ll +leave him in his nice, green bed, dear, and +not be sorry for him any more.</p> +<p>“I see Bruce just ahead. Grandma and +Mother must be near.”</p> +<p>They came up to them in a minute, and +Sunny Boy suddenly discovered that he was +hungry.</p> +<p>“But it isn’t time for lunch yet, precious. +Take this apple and try to wait a little +longer, do,” said his mother.</p> +<p>“Feels like a thunderstorm,” declared +Grandma, sitting down on her camp-stool +to get her breath after the walk. “Well, +Bruce will tell us in time, won’t you, old +fellow?”</p> +<p>“How?” asked Sunny curiously.</p> +<p>“He’s afraid of thunder,” explained +Grandma. “Years ago when he was a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +young dog he was out hunting rabbits or +squirrels one summer night and a big thunderstorm +came up. We always think he +must have seen a tree struck, or been stunned +by a flash, for he came home dripping and +shivering. And ever since—though that +was a long time ago—he begins to shake and +wants to hide whenever he hears thunder.”</p> +<p>The woods did not seem dark and still, +now that Sunny had company with him, and +he took Grandpa over to the place where he +and Daddy had gone fishing. They decided +not to try to catch any fish that day, +but Sunny took off his shoes and stockings +and went wading.</p> +<p>When he came out, and had his shoes and +stockings on again, Mrs. Horton spread a +white cloth on a flat rock and she and +Grandma began to get the lunch ready.</p> +<p>“Sunny, which would you rather have,” +Grandpa asked him, “white cake or black +cake?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p> +<p>“White, I guess,” said Sunny. “Or no—chocolate, +I think.”</p> +<p>“Well, well, if that isn’t lucky!” cried +Grandpa, pretending to be much relieved. +“Grandma has put in both kinds!”</p> +<p>Indeed there were all kinds of goodies +in those boxes—chicken and ham sandwiches, +eggs, potato salad, white cake and +black, a vacuum bottle of cold milk for +Sunny and one of hot coffee for the others.</p> +<p>“There’s a spider!” shouted Sunny Boy +as they sat down to eat. “Look, Grandpa, +he going right into the cake.”</p> +<p>“Oh, spiders and ants and little creatures +like that like to come to a picnic,” answered +Grandpa, scooping up the spider on a bit of +cardboard and putting him down carefully +on a bush near by. “Mr. Spider’ll go home +to-night and tell the folks all about the little +boy he saw in the woods to-day with his +mother and his grandmother and his grandfather +having a picnic. And little Sallie +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +Spider will say, ‘What were they eating, +Daddy? Did you bring me any?’”</p> +<p>“I’ll sprinkle crumbs for him to get afterward,” +planned Sunny. “The fishes had +them last time, and now it is Mr. Spider’s +turn.”</p> +<p>Presently, when no one could eat another +bite, Mother and Grandmother folded up +the cloth and put the sandwiches left over in +one box. All the odds and ends were put +down on a paper plate for Bruce to eat, and +then Grandpa dug a hole in the ground and +he and Sunny Boy buried the papers out of +sight.</p> +<p>“For I won’t let any one build a fire in +my woods in July when we’re needing rain +so badly and every stick is like tinder,” said +Grandpa sturdily. “And we won’t leave a +messy picnic ground, even if it is our own, +shall we?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Horton had her knitting, and she and +Grandma sat and worked and talked quietly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +while Grandpa and Sunny Boy went off together +to try to find a sassafras bush. Just +as they had found one and Grandpa had +taken out his knife to cut a twig for Sunny +to taste, Bruce ran into him and nearly +knocked him down.</p> +<p>“Grandpa! Grandpa! Something’s the +matter with Bruce! Is he sick?” Sunny +Boy was a little frightened at the strange +way the dog acted. “Look at him! He’s +trying to walk on me.”</p> +<p>“He hears thunder,” said Grandpa +quietly. “He’s trying to get you to hide +him. Funny, I haven’t heard a rumble. +But you can trust Bruce. He never fails +to tell us. We must hurry and get Mother +and Grandma back to the house before it +rains.”</p> +<p>They walked back as fast as they could to +where they had left the others, and found +Mrs. Horton folding up her knitting.</p> +<p>“We thought we heard thunder,” she said, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +as they came up to her. “I think it is clouding +up, too. Why how funny Bruce acts! +Is he sick?”</p> +<p>“He’s trying to tell us a storm is coming,” +replied Grandpa. “There, there, Bruce, +don’t be so silly. We’re going home, and +you can hide under the barn floor and never +even see the lightning.”</p> +<p>The sun, which had been shining down +through the trees, had gone under a cloud, +and the branches about them began to rustle +as the wind swayed them.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid we’ll have a heavy storm,” +said Grandma anxiously. “We have had +such a long dry spell and it’s been so hot. +I’d hate to be caught among these trees in +a heavy wind.”</p> +<p>“Don’t worry, Mother,” replied Grandpa. +“We’ll be home before the first drops come. +Shall I carry you, Sunny?”</p> +<p>Sunny, who was running to keep up with +them, shook his head. He did not want to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +be carried like a baby. Soon it grew darker +and darker and the wind began to blow in +earnest. He pressed closer to Grandpa.</p> +<p>“Don’t be afraid,” said Grandpa kindly. +“We’ll be out of the woods in another +minute and then we’ll scoot across the brook +and be home.”</p> +<p>He put out a hand to help Grandmother, +when with a tremendous blast a gust of +wind made them all stop to catch their +breath. They saw it bend a tree at the edge +of the clearing and heard the tree snap +loudly as it broke and fell across the path. +Bruce howled—he was nervous, poor +animal.</p> +<p>“Mercy!” gasped Grandma. “I said +we’d have a bad storm. There! I felt a +raindrop. My father always said the worst +was over when the rain began.”</p> +<p>They hurried on, anxious not to get wet, +and Sunny Boy was the first to reach the +fallen tree. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></p> +<p>“We have to go over it,” he shouted back, +and began to scramble up, holding on to the +branches.</p> +<p>“Grandpa,” they heard him scream a +moment later. “Hurry! Come quick! +Here’s my kite! The Lib’ty Bonds kite!”</p> +<p>Sure enough, there it was, just as it had +caught in the tree—the missing kite. And +still pasted to the strips of wood were +Grandpa’s two five-hundred-dollar Liberty +Bonds!</p> +<p>“No wonder we couldn’t find ’em!” cried +Sunny Boy, dancing with excitement. “I +knew I saw it fall in a tree! Won’t Daddy +be glad!”</p> +<p>“We’re all glad,” declared Mother, kissing +him warmly. “Isn’t it just wonderful +to think that the same little boy who lost the +bonds should also find them?”</p> +<p>“It’s been a lucky picnic, surely,” said +Grandpa. “After a hard rain those bonds +wouldn’t have been worth much to any one.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p> +<p>“Well, they won’t be worth much now +if we all stand here and get soaked,” announced +Grandma practically.</p> +<p>At that they all took hold of hands and +ran across the meadow, over the bridge of +stones, and up to the porch. And the +moment they were safely under shelter, how +the rain did pour down! Just as if, Sunny +said, it had been waiting for them to get +home before it showed what it really could +do.</p> +<p>“Mother,” asked Sunny Boy that night, as +he sat on the foot-board of the bed in his blue +pajamas and watched her brush her hair. +They were all tired after the excitement of +the picnic and the finding of the bonds, and +every one was going to bed at Sunny’s bed +time, even Grandpa. “Mother, will I take +my sand-box to the seashore?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, precious,” she assured him. +“Why, you’ll have a whole beach of sand to +play in. And the bathing suit I bought for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +you to wear here and which you haven’t had +on because the brook water is so cold! Perhaps +Daddy will teach you to swim.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” agreed Sunny Boy absently. And +he tumbled back on the pillows, thinking +about the seashore and the ocean which he +had never seen.</p> +<p>It was not very long after the picnic that +Mother and Sunny Boy left Brookside and +went to visit Aunt Bessie in her white +cottage that faced the ocean. And if you +want to hear about the good times Sunny +Boy had there and what he thought the +waves were saying to him when he got up +in the night to listen, you’ll have to read +“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sunny Boy at the Seashore</span>.”</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>THE SUNNY BOY SERIES</p> +<p>By Ramy Allison White</p> +</div> + +<div class='figleft'> +<img src='images/sunny-ad1.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 146px; height: 200px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<p>Children, meet Sunny Boy, a little +fellow with big eyes and an inquiring +disposition, who finds the world a +large and wonderful thing indeed. +And somehow there is lots going on, +when Sunny Boy is around. Perhaps +he helps push! In the first book of +this new series he has the finest time +ever, with his Grandpa out in the +country. He learns a lot and he helps +a lot, in his small way. Then he has +a glorious visit to the seashore, but +this is in the next story. And there are still more adventures in +the other books. You will like Sunny Boy.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>1. SUNNY BOY IN THE COUNTRY</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>2. SUNNY BOY AT THE SEASHORE</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>3. SUNNY BOY IN THE BIG CITY</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>4. SUNNY BOY IN SCHOOL AND OUT</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>5. SUNNY BOY AND HIS PLAYMATES</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>6. SUNNY BOY AND HIS GAMES</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>7. SUNNY BOY IN THE FAR WEST</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>8. SUNNY BOY ON THE OCEAN</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>9. SUNNY BOY WITH THE CIRCUS</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>10. SUNNY BOY AND HIS BIG DOG</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>BARSE & HOPKINS</p> +<p>Publishers</p> +<p>New York, N. Y. Newark, N. J.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>THE BOY SCOUT LIFE SERIES</p> +<p>Published with the approval of</p> +<p>The Boy Scouts of America</p> +</div> + +<div class='figleft'> +<img src='images/sunny-ad2.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 143px; height: 200px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<p>In the boys’ world of story +books, none better than those +about boy scouts arrest and grip +attention. In a most alluring way, +the stories in the BOY SCOUT +LIFE SERIES tell of the glorious +good times and wonderful adventures +of boy scouts.</p> +<p>All the books were written by +authors possessed of an intimate +knowledge of this greatest of all +movements organized for the welfare +of boys, and are published +with the approval of the National +Headquarters of the Boy Scouts +of America.</p> +<p>The Chief Scout Librarian, Mr. +F. K. Mathiews, writes concerning +them: “It is a bully bunch of books. I hope you will sell +100,000 copies of each one, for these stories are the sort that +will help instead of hurt our movement.”</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE BOY SCOUT FIRE FIGHTERS—CRUMP</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIGHTHOUSE TROOP—McCLANE</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE BOY SCOUT TRAIL BLAZERS—CHELEY</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE BOY SCOUT TREASURE HUNTERS—LERRIGO</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT—WALDEN</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>BOY SCOUTS COURAGEOUS—MATHIEWS</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>BOY SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE—LERRIGO</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL—GARTH</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE BOY SCOUTS IN AFRICA—CORCORAN</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>BARSE & HOPKINS</p> +<p>Publishers</p> +<p>New York, N. Y. Newark, N. J.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>The Camp Fire Boys Series</p> +<p>By OLIVER LEE CLIFTON</p> +<p>For Boys from 8 to 14</p> +</div> + +<div class='figleft'> +<img src='images/sunny-ad3.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 142px; height: 200px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<p>A group of resourceful boys living in a +small town form a camping and hiking +club, which brings them all sorts of outdoor +adventures. In the first story, “At +Log Cabin Bend,” they solve a series of +mysteries but not until after some lively +thrills which will cause other boys to sit +on the edge of their chairs. The next +story telling of their search for a lost +army aviator in “Muskrat Swamp” is just as lively. The +boys are all likable and manly—just the sort of fellows +that every other wide-awake boy would be glad to go +hiking with.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE CAMP FIRE BOYS AT LOG CABIN BEND</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE CAMP FIRE BOYS IN MUSKRAT SWAMP</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE CAMP FIRE BOYS AT SILVER FOX FARM</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE CAMP FIRE BOYS’ CANOE CRUISE</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>THE CAMP FIRE BOYS’ TRACKING SQUAD</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>BARSE & HOPKINS</p> +<p>Publishers</p> +<p>New York, N. Y. Newark, N. J.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>The Two Little Fellows Series</p> +<p>By JOSEPHINE LAWRENCE</p> +<p>FOR BOYS AND GIRLS FROM 5 TO 9</p> +<p><i>Cloth</i> <i>Large 12 Mo.</i> <i>Illustrated</i></p> +</div> + +<div class='figleft'> +<img src='images/sunny-ad4.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 134px; height: 200px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<p>The neighbors say “the +two little Fellows” when +they speak of Martin +and Jean. That is because this +small brother and sister are +always together. You just have +to think of them as a pair.</p> +<p>The Fellows family live in +Garnet, a busy city, but the +two little Fellows have a yard +all their own in which to play, +and a wonderful dog, who is very wise indeed, for +a playmate. Pleasantly exciting things happen to +Martin and Jean: sometimes little troubles ruffle +them, but in the main, this growing up day by day +is very interesting and busy work. The two little +Fellows think so and as you read about them in +these books, you’ll find you have made two new +friends.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>1. THE TWO LITTLE FELLOWS.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>2. THE TWO LITTLE FELLOWS START SCHOOL.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>3. THE TWO LITTLE FELLOWS GO VISITING.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>BARSE & HOPKINS</p> +<p>Publishers</p> +<p>New York, N. Y. Newark, N. J.</p> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.18 --> +<!-- timestamp: Fri Aug 08 15:39:08 -0600 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Sunny Boy in the Country, by Ramy Allison White + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY BOY IN THE COUNTRY *** + +***** This file should be named 26232-h.htm or 26232-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/2/3/26232/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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