"Well, all right, then. But how shall I give it to you?" asked their would-be hostess. "If I bring it out here all the neighborhood will come and want some. And I do hate to have so many children tramping in over my clean rugs."
Not without reason was Sunny Boy a general.
"I can march 'em in the basement door," he suggested. "They'll stay in a row and not muss anything."
So it was decided. The woman went in and closed the door, promising to open the iron basement gate for them, and Sunny Boy turned to his army.
A little fearfully the army marched down the area steps and into a dark hall. They each had a feeling that the woman might change her mind after all, and scold them again. But she was smiling as they tramped into her old-fashioned kitchen.
"Halt!" commanded Sunny Boy, and the army ranged itself against the wall without further orders.
"I'll give each one a glass, and then I'll pour the lemonade," said the hostess pleasantly.
She went down the line, filling a tall crystal glass for each child. Then, after that, she brought out a plate of brown and white cookies and insisted that they must each take three.
"Sugar cookies don't hurt any one," she declared, patting Ruth on the head as she passed her. "Do they, General?"