For the spoon had slipped and a great splash of milk went on Harriet’s spandy tablecloth.
“That’s a two-cent spot, isn’t it, Mother?” asked Sunny Boy sadly.
But Mother shook her head.
“We’ll not begin to count till to-morrow,” she said kindly. “Only, do remember what I’ve told you about playing with your food, Sunny Boy.”
You see, Mother and Sunny Boy had decided that when a boy was five years old and came to the table just like other folks, he shouldn’t make any more crumbs about his chair, or spill any food on the tablecloth. If he went a whole week without getting a spot on the cloth, Mother put ten cents in his Christmas bank; and for every spot he had to pay a little fine. That is, he had to give up a part of the ten cents he would otherwise have earned.
“Great big splashy spots are two cents,” Sunny Boy explained to Aunt Betty, who had not heard of the plan. “Little spicky spots are only half a cent. And things that you can’t help spilling—like huckleberries and blackberries and cranberry sauce—don’t count at all.”
After supper Sunny Boy was so tired and sleepy that, although he said he wanted to go down on the beach and see the moon, he knew in his own mind he’d go to sleep walking there; and he stumbled down the hall and into his pretty bedroom and went to sleep on the bed without even taking off his shoes.
Daddy undressed him, only waking him as he kissed him good-night.
“I may be gone before you’re awake, Laddie,” he whispered. “But you know I’m coming down next Saturday, and we’ll have great times. You’re the man of the house while I’m away, remember.”
“All right,” sighed Sunny Boy drowsily.