Sunny Boy was much interested, and as Daddy drove on he asked a great many questions about the sea and ships. He rather thought he should like to be a sailor when he grew up. Either that, or an aviator.
Hm’m, hm’m—buz-zz. A great droning sounded back of them.
“Mother, Mother, Mother!” Sunny Boy shouted at the top of his lungs. “It’s an airplane!”
It was, too; a beautiful, graceful, swift airplane that came out of the sky and sped over them and was gone almost before they knew it.
“You’ll see ever so many of them this summer,” Mr. Horton said, when his family were sitting down properly in their places again. You know how every one stands up and tilts his head backward to watch an airplane.
That was the end of adventures for that afternoon, though they drove several miles further along the road that followed the line of the beach closely. They got back to the bungalow just in time to freshen up a little before Harriet announced that dinner was ready.
“What are we going to do to-night?” Sunny Boy asked pleasantly, playing that a piece of bread was a fish and his spoon a net.
Daddy laughed.
“Why, I think you’re going to bed,” he answered, gazing intently at the bowl before Sunny Boy and the spoon which threatened to spatter milk presently. “I may take Mother down to the beach to see the moon a little later, but we are all going to bed early. I have to go back to the city early, you know.”
“I wish—” said Sunny Boy earnestly. “I wish you would stay and play with me all the time, Daddy—Oh, my!”