Proudly he walked down the street. He felt sure everyone was noticing him. One of the newsboys ran past him and shouted, “Hello, little chap!” and grinned.
Mamma had said, “Be a good boy, Harlis,” before he left home. He couldn't help feeling how foolish it was for her always to say that, but he excused her with the thought that it was probably mamma-like to be a little anxious and worried about such things.
“Harlis! Harlis!”
Harlis was just entering one of the chief business streets through which he had to pass to reach the church. He turned and saw Willie Nelson running as fast as his little legs could carry him to catch up.
“All alone?” Willie asked.
“Yes.”
“So'm I. My mamma can't come to Sunday-school. She makes me go, though. I don't care much. Let's go this way.”
“No. I can't. Mamma said for me to go just the same way I always did. I promised.”
“Did you? My, I go the way I want to. This is just as good as any,” he added cheerfully. “Let's look in here. Ain't that fine?”
It was a display in the candy shop they were looking at. Across the window, hung from the gas jet by ribbons, was a huge candy cane.