Sunny Boy helped Mother carry the milk and the butter back to the ice-box, and dried the dishes as she washed them. Then he ran down into the yard and hung up the scalded tea towels for her.
“Daddy says little boys can help most as much as little girls,” said Sunny seriously, watching Mother put the glass pitcher on the high shelf that he hadn’t been able to reach. “When Harriet isn’t here, do I help, Mother?”
“Precious,” Mother assured him, giving him a bear hug, “you help me every minute of the day, whether Harriet is here or not. And when you’re a man I won’t be any more proud of you than I am right now.”
They went upstairs, Mrs. Horton to darn the neglected socks, and Sunny to watch for Daddy and the new car.
“Here he is! I’ll open the door! O-hoo, Daddy!” Sunny Boy saw the dark blue car draw up before the house and stop, and he banged noisily on the window screen to attract his father’s attention. Then he dashed downstairs.
“Well, well, who’s this young cyclone?” inquired Mr. Horton, catching Sunny Boy in his arms and lifting him to his shoulder. “Saw me drive up, didn’t you? Where’s Mother?”
“Upstairs. Daddy, let’s go out in the automobile! Where you going to keep it? Can I drive?” Sunny bounced about excitedly as he put his questions one after another.
“Easy, easy,” protested Mr. Horton. “The automobile will be an old story fast enough. Let me have a word with Mother and then perhaps you and I will have an errand to do down town.”
Mrs. Horton smiled when she saw Sunny’s flushed face.
“Some one is excited,” she teased. “Well, Daddy dear, what did Bessie say about the suitcase?”