pt thinking
of the poor lead soldier down at the bottom of the inkwell.

"That looks very nice, Carleton," said Miss Davis.

Sunny Boy looked up. She was standing at Carleton's desk in the next
aisle. In a few minutes she would come to Sunny Boy's desk to see his
letter. If he was ever going to get that lead soldier, it must be now.
Sunny Boy took another quick glance at Miss Davis, saw that she was
busy helping another child, and down went his little right hand into
the ink-well!

"I've got him!" he said aloud, as he brought up the lead soldier,
dripping with ink.

The class looked at Sunny Boy in surprise. So did Miss Davis. They
saw a little boy with ink spots on his face and blouse, his hands as
black as--well, as black as ink, and ink running in streams over his
desk.

"Sunny Boy!" cried Miss Davis. "What are you doing? I thought you
promised not to play with the lead soldier. Carleton, get the blotter
on my desk, quick!"

Carleton got the blotter and that helped to mop up some of the ink.
Miss Davis sent Jessie to get a cloth from Maria, the maid, and she
used that to wipe the ink off the desk. Sunny Boy and the lead soldier
she sent upstairs to the bathroom, where Maria scrubbed them both with
water and a stiff little brush. Not all the ink came off, but most of
it did.

Sunny Boy had to sit quietly at his desk during recess while Miss Davis
talked to him. He explained that he was not playing with the soldier
and Jessie was honest enough to say that she had unscrewed him from his
horse, and Miss Davis said she was very glad to know that Sunny Boy had
not broken his promise.

"But I think I shall have to say that there must be no more toys
brought to school after this," she declared, when she had heard all
about the rescue of the lead soldier general and had kissed Sunny Boy
so he might know she was not scolding him. "Toys and school do not
seem to go very well together."

And Sunny Boy's mother, when she heard about that morning, said she
thought Miss Davis was right.

CHAPTER IX

OUT IN THE BLIZZARD

"Daddy," said Mrs. Horton at the breakfast table one morning, "what do
you think about sending Sunny Boy to school to-day?"

Mr. Horton glanced out of the window. The snow was piled high on the
sill and the white flakes were still falling steadily.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I don't believe the storm will be
much worse, Olive. It has snowed all night, and our storms se