GETTING READY
“Take me with you, Daddy?” Sunny Boy begged. “I could see the accident.”
“There’ll be nothing to see,” answered Mr. Horton, smiling. “I’m only
going to the laundry office, and that wouldn’t interest you. I think
you’d better stay with Mother and help her.”
“All right,” agreed Sunny Boy cheerfully, climbing out of the car and
holding the cake box carefully right side up.
He and Mother went into the kitchen, while Mr. Horton turned the car
and went off down the street.
“Gee!” exclaimed Sunny, watching Mother fill the tea kettle. “Gee! I
guess that laundry-wagon boy wishes he’d called it a day.”
“Called it a day?” repeated Mrs. Horton, puzzled. “What do you mean,
dear? And is it absolutely necessary that you use ‘gee’ twice in one
sentence?”
Sunny Boy admitted that it wasn’t. Then, while they waited for the
kettle to boil, he told Mother about his morning adventure and the man
who had picked him out of the bushes and advised him to call it a day.
“Why, you might have been hurt!” said Mrs. Horton seriously. “Don’t do
that again, Son. Probably the boy is a reckless driver, or he wouldn’t
have had this accident, but no driver can watch out for little folks
who hitch on behind wagons. Now we’ll set the table in the dining-room
to-night, and go out and wait for Daddy on the front steps.”
Sunny Boy helped Mother so well that the table was set and everything
in readiness for supper and they had been out on the front steps for
nearly ten minutes before they saw Mr. Horton coming around the corner.
Sunny Boy ran to meet him.
“Did you walk?” he asked disappointedly. “Where’s the automobile? Did
you scold the laundry-wagon boy?”
“I put the automobile to bed,” answered Daddy, waving to Mother. “This
fall, perhaps, we can build a garage out back of the house. I’ll see.
But just now a man named Mr. Taggart has to keep the car at night for
us. Did you help Mother?”
“Indeed he did!” Mrs. Horton held open the screen door for them to go
in. “I haven’t missed Harriet at all.”
At the supper table Sunny remembered the accident again.
“What did the laundry-wagon boy say?” he asked his father.
“The poor chap’s in the hospital,” replied Mr. Horton soberly. “Nothing
more serious than bad bruises, they say. I imagine, from the way the
superintendent talked, that he’s been in pickles before this for
careless driving. There were half a dozen of us there, reclaiming
stuff. How many shirts was I supposed to have in that bundle, Olive?”
“Seven, and eleven collars,” said Mrs. Horton promptly.
“Well, only six had my mark on ’em,” declared Mr. Horton. “A number
of bundles were entirely missing, stolen during the excitement of the
crash they think, or hopelessly torn and mangled. He drove right into a
big touring car, the police say.”
“I have to go over to Mrs. Baker’s,” announced Mrs. Horton when supper
was finished. “You’ll go up with Sunny Boy, won’t you, Harry? He must
have a hot bath.”
“It’s day yet,” protested Sunny Boy. “I don’t have to go to bed till
night.”
“Well, if you’re going to get up early in the morning and help me pack
stuff in the car, I think you’d better have a nice, hot bath and go to
sleep as fast as you can. Of course, if you are not going to get up in
the morning, and would rather stay down and wash the dishes, why that’s
another matter entirely.”
Sunny Boy giggled.
“I’ll bath me,” he decided. “You sit on the hamper and watch, Daddy.”
Daddy did sit on the hamper and watch. He also helped with the drying.
Then he pulled up the awnings all across the front of the house so that
the rooms would be cool during the night. Then he found the woolly dog,
that hadn’t gone to the farm but that was Sunny’s bedfellow when he was
at home, and put him in bed with Sunny Boy.
“Good night, laddie,” Daddy bent down and kissed Sunny Boy. “If you
wake up first, come in and call me.”
When Sunny Boy opened his eyes it was to find the sun streaming in the
windows and to hear the locusts singing away for dear life. He got
softly out of bed, tucked the woolly dog under his arm, and paddled
into Daddy and Mother’s room. It was empty.
“Well, well, here he is!” There stood Daddy in the doorway behind him.
“Breakfast’s almost ready, and we need a certain young man to help us
with the sliced peaches and cream, to say nothing of the brown toast
Mother’s made for us. Come on, and see if you can find the blue sailor
suit on the little rocking chair under the window nearest the closet
door.”
The lonesome feeling Sunny had had for a moment when he found his
father and mother had gone downstairs ahead of him, went away, and he
hurried to help Daddy find the sailor suit. They knocked over so many
things in their search, and laughed so much and made such a great deal
of noise that Mother came up and pretended to scold, though really she
came to find the suit, tie the tie for Sunny, and brush his yellow hair.
“Now if you don’t come down to breakfast this minute,” she told them
when Sunny Boy was as neat as neat could be—“well, you can’t have any
toast, that’s all!”
So they all three hurried down and found plenty of toast; and very good
it was, too.
“Each one must carry his plate out to the kitchen,” ordered Mr. Horton,
when they had finished. “And then Sunny Boy and I will go round and get
the car. Whatever you can pack to-day, Olive, will save us time in the
morning. I’d like to make an early start, because I’m afraid we’re in
for a hot spell, and the earlier we get off, the more comfortable we’ll
be.”
“The trunks are going this morning,” said Mrs. Horton. “Bessie promised
to get theirs off, too. All I have to do—My dear child, what are you
going to do with that?” she broke off.
Sunny Boy stood in the doorway, Harriet’s cake on the best china
cake-plate in his hands. It was a cake with white icing and it looked
delicious.
“It’s to eat on the way,” explained Sunny Boy. “Harriet said so. I was
going to put it in the automobile under the seat where it wouldn’t get
mussed.”
“But I’m going to put up a nice lunch for us,” said Mother. “Harriet’s
cake really ought to be wrapped in wax paper, you know, and go in a
box. You shall fix it for me this morning. Now run along with Daddy,
and bring our shiny new car around for the bundles.”
Sunny met Mr. Taggart that morning. He was a short, round man with
little twinkling blue eyes and he wore overalls that were very black
and greasy from the oil and grease on the cars he took care of.
“I’ve got a little boy ’bout your age,” he told Sunny. “You’re about
five, aren’t you? I thought so. Ted’s five and a half. In you go! Ted’s
a little heavier than you are. He’s down in the country now, visiting
his grandma.”
Daddy started the car, and Sunny leaned out to call back to Mr. Taggart.
“My grandma lives in the country, too, and we’re going to the seashore
to-morrow.”
Mr. Taggart waved his hand to show that he heard and understood, and
Daddy backed the car out into the street.
“Let’s get Mother and go now,” suggested Sunny. “Why is there always a
lot to do before we do anything, Daddy?”
Mr. Horton smiled.
“Well, most things that are worth while or give us lasting pleasure,
laddie, require work and effort,” he said. “You’ll find that out as
you go along. You see, we might go this morning, but we’d have to come
back in a day or two for more clothes, or the swing, or some of the
other things Mother is busily thinking of and packing up this morning.
And down at Nestle Cove, the man who owns the cottage Aunt Bessie has
rented is opening it and cleaning it and putting it in good order for
us, so we’ll be comfortable the rest of the summer. If he didn’t look
at it till ten or fifteen minutes before we were due there, the roof
might leak, or the rooms be damp and dirty, and then we’d have to spend
the first week of our stay making things pleasant and comfortable. So
we’ll wait till the time to go, and do everything there’s to be done
while we’re waiting, shall we?”
“Let’s,” nodded Sunny Boy, who really understood. “Look, Daddy, there’s
Ruth and Nelson Baker out in front of their house. Ruth’s waving to
you.”
Mr. Horton stopped the car, and beckoned to the Baker children.
“Hop in,” he said pleasantly. “I have to go over to Aunt Bessie’s
apartment and you might as well have the little ride. I’ll tell your
mother where we’re going. Wait for me.”
He went on into the house, and Ruth and Nelson scrambled into the back
of the automobile.
“Isn’t it hot?” said Nelson. “I’ll bet there’s a thunderstorm this
afternoon. Don’t scratch the paint, Ruth.”
“I’m not!” retorted Ruth indignantly. “Let me ride up in front, Sunny?”
“Don’t you let her,” urged Nelson. “You always want to do whatever you
see any one else do. Sit down, or I’ll tell Mother.”
Ruth, who had been trying to climb over the back of the seat, sat
down, not so much to please her brother as because she saw Mr. Horton
coming.
“Now we’re off,” he said, getting in. “I’m to take you two Bakers down
to your father’s office after we’ve been to the apartment. I hear
you’ve been wearing out your sandals at a shocking rate.”
“And Father’s going to get us new ones,” guessed Nelson.
“Right,” responded Mr. Horton. “He’s a pretty nice father to have.”