“How did you know the kind we liked?” asked Aunt Bessie, when they came up the steps a few minutes later. She and Miss Martinson and Mother were rocking in a nice little row.
“They only had vanilla,” answered Sunny Boy, matter-of-factly. “Where’s Harriet?”
“She’s telephoning for an ice-man,” said Mrs. Horton. “Isn’t she good, Harry? She wanted us to have ice to-night, and the proprietor of the inn gave her the name of the man in town who sells ice. We’d better hurry, or we’ll find it melting on our front doorstep.”
Harriet came out in time to get her ice-cream cone, and then they went back to the automobile again and got in.
“Smell the ocean now?” said Mr. Horton, as he turned the car around. “We’re going through the town now, Sunny Boy. You look about and decide what you want to do when I come down again and we come over for a little fun.”
Sunny watched with interest. First they went through very clean, straight streets, with small square lawns before the houses—“like little green pocket-handkerchiefs”—Aunt Bessie declared. Nearly every house had a porch, and on every porch were groups of ladies, dressed in white, knitting or sewing or just talking. Children played croquet on the lawns, or sat in swings.
“He has a pail,” said Sunny, pointing to a little bare-footed boy coming up the street swinging a spade and shovel.
“Mercy, isn’t he sunburned!” cried Aunt Bessie. “Sunny Boy, I hope you’ll be more respectful to your nose!”
From the straight, clean streets, the automobile turned into a wider thoroughfare, with nothing but stores on either side.
“I see the ocean!” Sunny Boy stood up in the car and shouted.