When they reached Sunny's house, a familiar touring car was drawn up at the curb.
"Daddy's home!" cried Sunny Boy. "P'haps he'll give us a ride. Where's Bobbie?"
Bobbie was not in sight, but his shells lay scattered on the top step where he had left them.
"Well, well, who wants a little ride?" Mr. Horton came smiling down the steps. "Sunny Boy, Mother wants you to pick up this stuff and put it in the hall. Any one's likely to fall over it out here. And then I'll take you round the park and back."
"All of us?" asked Sunny Boy, beginning to pick up the shells and sea-weed. "Where's Bobbie, Daddy?"
"All of you," assented Mr. Horton. "Bobbie Henderson? Oh, his mother sent for him. Ready now, children?"
Mr. Horton put Ruth Baker in the front seat because she was the only girl, and the seven boys piled happily into the tonneau. They were all ready to start when Sunny Boy, turning around, saw a grinning little colored boy holding on at the back of the car. Mr. Horton saw him, too.
"Hey, get down from there!" Sunny Boy's father called crisply. "You'll be hurt, taking a chance like that. Get off now, before I start the car."
The woolly black head and grinning brown face disappeared, but Sunny Boy set up a loud wail.
"Daddy, he took my hat! See him! He's got it! Let me get out and chase him!"