mising to
open the iron basement gate for them, and Sunny Boy turned to his
army.

"Forward march!" he ordered.

A little fearfully the army marched down the area steps and into a
dark hall. They each had a feeling that the woman might change her
mind after all, and scold them again. But she was smiling as they
tramped into her old-fashioned kitchen.

"Halt!" commanded Sunny Boy, and the army ranged itself against the
wall without further orders.

"I'll give each one a glass, and then I'll pour the lemonade," said
the hostess pleasantly.

She went down the line, filling a tall crystal glass for each child.
Then, after that, she brought out a plate of brown and white cookies
and insisted that they must each take three.

"Sugar cookies don't hurt any one," she declared, patting Ruth on the
head as she passed her. "Do they, General?"

"I guess not," agreed Sunny Boy contentedly, munching a cake.

When they had finished, they put the glasses carefully on the table,
and said "Thank you" politely.

"My name is Miss Lyons, Miss Edith Lyons," announced their hostess,
following them to the door. "I'm going to watch you march off, and I
hope you'll come to see me again."

"We didn't muss anything, did we?" asked Sunny Boy anxiously. He felt
responsible for all the rest.

Miss Lyons stooped down and kissed him.

"Bless your heart, for a thoughtful little boy," she said warmly. "You
haven't hurt a thing. Good-bye, Soldier, and good luck!"

"Fall in!" Sunny Boy commanded as they reached the walk. "Forward,
march!"

The drum sounding merrily, the army fell into step and marched down
the street, Miss Lyons waving her handkerchief in good-bye.

"Those were good cookies," chuckled Harold Wallace, who marched beside
Sunny Boy. "Gee, I wanted to run when she opened the door. Did you
know her, Sunny?"

"My, no," Sunny Boy assured him. "I guess she was just glad to have
somebody come and drink up all that lemonade."

When they reached Sunny's house, a familiar touring car was drawn up
at the curb.

"Daddy's home!" cried Sunny Boy. "P'haps he'll give us a ride. Where's
Bobbie?"

Bobbie was not in sight, but his shells lay scattered on the top step
where he had left them.

"Well, well, who wants a little ride?" Mr. Horton came smiling down
the steps. "Sunny Boy, Mother wants you to pick up this stuff and put
it in the hall. Any one's likely to fall over it out here. And then
I'll take you round the park and back."