“Hello!” responded Sunny politely.
She had red hair and that reminded him of Araminta, the little girl at Grandpa Horton’s house. He wished Araminta lived in the city where he could see her every day. Sunny Boy, you will perceive, had what his Aunt Bessie called a “wishing fit” this summer morning.
“Out of my way, kid!” A thin, freckle-faced boy with the lightest hair and eyebrows Sunny Boy had ever seen leaped from the laundry wagon that drew up to the curb. “Haven’t any time to fool this morning. This 266 Glenn Avenue? Yep? Well, hustle now and don’t keep me waiting for those shirts to be done up. Rush order, too, it is.”
Sunny Boy had a dim idea that this boy was poking fun at him, and he frowned a little. But Mrs. Horton had heard through the screen door, and she came, bringing the package of shirts.
“Are you sure they will be returned to-morrow?” she asked anxiously. “We leave early Thursday morning.”
“Oh, they’ll be ready in plenty of time,” said the boy reassuringly. “Don’t you worry—the Star Laundry never breaks its word; we can’t afford to.”
He ran down the walk, tossed the package into the back of the wagon, and hurried across the street to another house.
Mrs. Horton laughed.
“What a very important young man!” she said. “Well, Sunny Boy, are you having a good time? Where are Ruth and Nelson?”
“They had to go in,” answered Sunny Boy. “Mother, could I get an ice-cream cone?”