He trotted through the wide hall, into the sitting-room. There sat Grandpa figuring at his desk and close beside him was Mother with her knitting. There were bright drops on the dark blue wool. She had been crying, though she smiled at Sunny as he stood in the doorway.
“Grandpa, listen!” Sunny Boy cried. “You can have all the money in my bank at home. I’ve been saving it for, oh, ever so long. There’s a thousand dollars, I guess. An’ you can have it all—every bit. Daddy will send it to you if I ask him. An’ then you won’t care ’bout the Lib’ty Bonds!”
Sunny Boy was surprised at the way his offer was received. He had thought Grandpa would be pleased and his mother, too. And here sat Grandpa blowing his nose, and as for his mother—Sunny Boy looked at her and her eyes were quite brimming over.
“Don’t you like me to?” he cried. “I was going to buy another drum, but Grandpa can have the money. It’s a pink pig, Grandpa, and you shake it an’ the pennies drop out. Harriet gave it to me.” Sunny Boy’s lip began to quiver.
“My dear little son!” Mother held out her arms and Sunny Boy ran to her. “My generous little man!” she whispered. “Your pennies wouldn’t be enough, precious. But I’m proud to have you offer them to Grandpa to try to make up his loss. That’s like your father.”
Sunny Boy sat up and stopped crying. To be like his father was the highest praise his mother could give him.
“Thank you very much, Sunny,” said Grandpa gravely. “I couldn’t take your bank. For one reason, we’re not sure yet the bonds are really lost. But I tell you what I will do—if I ever get out of cash, entirely out, mind you, and have to borrow from my friends, I’ll come to you. There are very few I’d bring myself to borrow from, but perhaps it’s different with a grandson. You save your pennies, and maybe some day I’ll ask you to lend me some. Shall we shake hands on it?”
And Sunny Boy and Grandpa shook hands solemnly, like two business men.