Sunny Boy nodded, and they got into the beautiful pale gray car, the tall young chauffeur holding open the door for them. He wore a gray uniform and the light linen robe he spread over them was gray, too.
“Curly has hair just like yours,” said Sunny Boy suddenly. He had been studying the white-haired lady, and he paid her the biggest compliment he could. He thought Curly’s silky white hair very lovely.
The lady smiled.
“Who is Curly?” she asked.
Sunny Boy told her about the little dog he had found in the storm, how pretty it was, and how many tricks it could do. The white-haired lady sat up straighter and straighter, and the prettiest pink came into her cheeks under her gray veil.
“Carlton, do you hear?” she cried to the chauffeur. “I believe this child has found Bon-Bon!”
“Bon-Bon?” echoed Sunny Boy, bewildered.
“Yes, Bon-Bon, my dear little dog. My son brought him to me from France. Is he very tiny, with a sharp little black nose and slim feet? I thought so! Why you don’t know how glad I am! And to think you’ve been taking such wonderful care of him all this time!” The white-haired lady threw her arms around Sunny Boy and hugged him tightly.
“There he is now,” said the chauffeur, stopping the car before the Horton bungalow.
Curly, or Bon-Bon as the lady called him, sat on the top step of the porch, watching them.