“Of course,” answered Sunny Boy scornfully. “Any shell sounds like that if you hold it up to your ear. Come on, Bobbie, we’re going to parade.”
But Private Robert Henderson, it seemed, didn’t feel like parading just that minute.
“Let’s take this stuff out to the sand-box,” he suggested. “We can make a real beach, with shells and everything. Gee, you must have had fun at the seashore.”
“Did,” said Sunny Boy briefly.
He was exasperated. As general of his army he tried not to be cross, but Bobbie was famous for always spoiling other people’s plans. He never by any chance wanted to do what the other boys wanted to do.
“You can play with the sand-box after we parade,” announced Sunny Boy now. “Come on, Bobbie.”
Bobbie remained obstinately absorbed in the shells.
“Let me!” Down the steps tumbled a pink gingham frock and a fluff of yellow bobbed hair that proved to be four-year-old Ruth Baker. She lived next door to Sunny Boy, and her brother, Nelson, was already marking time with the waiting army.
“Let me march, Sunny Boy,” Ruth begged. “I can mark time, an’ everything!”
Sunny Boy decided swiftly.