"I wish, Grandpa--" he began excitedly, "I wish the big boy who pulled
me off the ice had waited to see you. He was afraid of the policeman,
or maybe he might have stayed."
"I wish I had seen him," said Grandpa Horton seriously. "He must have
had his wits about him to get you out of that crowd so easily. That
was what was worrying me all the time--I was afraid that a little chap
like you would be knocked down by that struggling crowd."
"I wish I could see the boy," said Mrs. Horton wistfully. "I would
like so much to thank him, and Daddy would, too. Don't you even know
his name, Sunny?"
Sunny Boy shook his head.
"I forgot to ask him," he admitted.
"Well, never mind," said Grandpa cheerily. He did not believe, he
often said, in feeling sad over things you could not help. "Perhaps we
will see him again. You would know him, wouldn't you, Sunny Boy, if
you should see him on the street?"
"Ye-s, I guess I would," answered Sunny Boy. "His coat was ripped in
the back and where it didn't button, and he wore a blue sweater with
green buttons. I would know the green buttons, Grandpa."
Grandpa Horton laughed, but Mrs. Horton and Grandma looked grave.
"I'd like to knit him a good sweater," said Grandma. "Like as not the
child needs warm things to wear."
"Boys wear old clothes to skate in, of course," Mrs. Horton said. "But
last night when Sunny Boy told me how rough and red his hands were and
that his skate straps were tied with string, I wondered if he wasn't a
boy from the River Section.
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