“Of course,” encouraged Jimmie. “Nothing to stop you. And if, when you grow up, you find you would rather be something else, why, there’s no harm done. I’ve heard that your father wanted to drive a hansom cab for a life job when he was your age. And now, instead, he drives his own automobile.”
“I think,” announced Sunny thoughtfully, “it’s a good plan to think about what you want to be when you grow up and then you won’t be s’prised when you find out what you are.”
Jimmie’s mouth was too full of nails for him to answer, but he nodded.
“You’ll swallow a nail,” worried Sunny. “Our dressmaker did, once. Only it was a pin. What is this for, Jimmie?”
“Wire clippers,” explained Jimmie briefly. “Cut wires with ’em, you know. Leave them right there, Sunny.”
Jimmie was wrestling with a bit of wire that was hard to stretch into place. Sunny picked up the wire clippers and studied them carefully.
“I wonder how they work?” he said to himself. “Like Mother’s scissors? If I only had a piece of wire I could see.”
Now the only wires, as Sunny very well knew, were those stretched between the posts. He did so wonder if the wire clippers really could cut that thick wire! Jimmie’s back was toward him. Sunny rested the clippers on the top wire. He wouldn’t really press them, just pretend to.
Snip! the heavy strand of wire parted as though it had been a string.
“Give me those clippers!” Jimmie bore down upon him crossly. “I told you to leave ’em alone. Now see what you’ve done! Look here, Sunny, can’t you keep out of trouble long enough for me to finish this fence?”