Sunny’s lower lip trembled. He shook his head. There was a big lump in his throat, and he couldn’t have spoken had he tried.
“How much is it? I’ll pay for it,” said the lady, fumbling in her purse. “Give the child his pennies, and take the check out of this.” She pushed a bill toward the boy.
“Now drink your soda, dear,” she went on kindly. “Do you live here in the town?”
“He lives over in the summer colony,” volunteered the boy, bringing back the change. “My father’s postmaster and he knows every one. I don’t believe his folks know he’s over here alone. Do they, Buddy?”
Sunny Boy put down his spoon and got off the stool. He didn’t like to be called buddy, and he had just remembered that his mother didn’t know where he was. She would worry if he was not home at lunch time.
“Take your money, kid,” said the boy, who really meant to be kind. “How are you going to pay jitney fare without a cent in your pocket? Here, take it.”
Sunny Boy thrust the pennies back in his pocket.
“Thank you very much,” he said to the white-haired lady. “I think perhaps my mother wants me now.”
The soda fountain boy laughed, but the lady did not. She was very sweet and serious.
“I wish you’d let me take you home in my car,” she suggested, quite as one friend to another. “You may have to wait for a jitney fifteen or twenty minutes, and my chauffeur can have you home in less time than that. What do you say?”