“No, Arthur,” said Grandma. “I’m sure Araminta hasn’t been near the desk, either. Sunny, you weren’t in the sitting room this morning, were you?”
“Yes, I was,” chirped Sunny Boy.
“But you didn’t see anything of Grandpa’s bonds—his nice beautiful, Liberty Bonds, did you, dear?” asked Mrs. Horton.
“No, Mother.”
“Well,” Grandpa sighed, and turned to go in, “I’ll look more thoroughly, of course. But they’re gone—I’m sure of it. I had no business to be so careless. They should have been in the bank a week ago. They might have blown out of the window—I’ll see that a screen goes in that window to-night.”
Sunny Boy put down his lolly-pop and followed Grandpa into the house. He found him seated at the desk, the papers in great confusion all about him.
“Well, Sunny, did you come to help me hunt?” asked Grandpa. “Don’t bother your yellow head about it. When you grow up, try to be more careful than your grandfather.”
Sunny Boy slipped a warm little hand into Grandpa’s.
“I made a kite—with papers,” he confessed bravely. “Not Lib’ty Bonds, Grandpa, just papers on top of your desk. I was ’musing myself, and I had to have a kite.”
“I see,” said Grandpa slowly, and not a bit crossly. “What color paper, dear? White?”