But when they came back from the first trip, there was trouble at once.
“Where’s Mr. Smith?” demanded Ellen, counting her dolls as soon as the ships were steadied in the sand.
“Mr. Smith?” echoed Sunny Boy helplessly. “Why—why—isn’t he there?”
“He isn’t here,” said Ellen coldly. “And the shell that held him down isn’t here. And, Ralph, where is Lucile?”
Lucile was one of the paper dolls who wore a silver frock.
“Gee! I suppose they’re washed away,” admitted Ralph. “I’m awfully sorry, honest, Ellen. Sunny and I were watching a boat ’way out, and we didn’t look back at our ships. I’ll ask Mother to let you have the new fashion magazine to-night.”
“Well, Mr. Smith was torn in one place,” said Ellen kindly. “And I never did care so much for Lucile. Daddy always called her cross-eyed. So you needn’t care, Ralph.”
“What’ll we do now?” asked Ralph, tired of the responsibility of taking paper dolls sailing. A fellow couldn’t be expected to keep the silly things from blowing away. “What’ll we do now, Sunny?”
“Yes, what’ll we do, Sunny?” chimed in Ellen.
Sunny Boy could usually be counted on to think of some game. He played alone so much, and, having no sister or brother, often had to depend upon himself for amusement.