"Soon," said Mr. Horton.
"Send me a post-card for my album," begged Ruth.
"Me, too," chimed in Nelson.
All the boys, it seemed, wanted post-cards from New York.
"Well, maybe, if Mother will write 'em," agreed Sunny Boy dubiously. "I can print A's and B's, but not a real letter writing. Are you going to get out, Daddy?"
The car had circled a large green that made attractive the center of the city, and Mr. Horton had parked before a busy grocery store.
"I'm going in here to do an errand for Mother," he said. "Now, youngsters, I won't be long, and every one of you stay in the car till I come back. I don't want to have to hunt up missing boys when it's time to go home."
Ruth Baker turned so she faced the back of the car.
"You never stay at home, Sunny Horton!" she declared accusingly. "I think it's mean. You were going to play Indian braves and sleep out in the tent, and pretty soon it will be so cold Mother won't let us."