all in!" said Sunny Boy sharply.

The army, six small boys distributed comfortably over the front steps, scrambled to obey. That is, all except one, who remained seated, a sea shell held over each ear.

"I said 'Fall in,'" repeated Sunny Boy patiently, as a general should speak.

"I heard you the first time," admitted the small soldier. "Did you know these shells made a noise, Sunny?"

"Of course," answered Sunny Boy scornfully. "Any shell sounds like that if you hold it up to your ear. Come on, Bobbie, we're going to parade."

But Private Robert Henderson, it seemed, didn't feel like parading just that minute.

"Let's take this stuff out to the sand-box," he suggested. "We can make a real beach, with shells and everything. Gee, you must have had fun at the seashore."

"Did," said Sunny Boy briefly.

He was exasperated. As general of his army he tried not to be cross, but Bobbie was famous for always spoiling other people's plans. He never by any chance wanted to do what the other boys wanted to do.

"You can play with the sand-box after we parade," announced Sunny Boy now. "Come on, Bobbie."

Bobbie remained obstinately absorbed in the shells.

"Let me!" Down the steps tumbled a pink gingham frock and a fluff of yellow bobbed hair that proved to be four-year-old Ruth Baker. She lived next door to Sunny Boy, and her brother, Nelson, was already marking time with the waiting army.

"Let me march, Sunny Boy," Ruth begged. "I can mark time, an' everything!"

Sunny Boy decided swiftly.

"All right," he assented. "I don't think much of girls in an army, but I s'pose it's better than being one short. Get in next to David."

Ruth's feelings were not easily hurt, and she didn't mind if her enlistment was not accepted with enthusiasm as long as she was accepted. She slipped happily into line back of David Spellman, a freckle-faced boy with smiling dark eyes.

"Forward, march!" Sunny Boy beat a lively quick-step on his drum and the army moved down the quiet street, leaving Bobbie Henderson playing with the shells.

Sunny Boy's drum, of all his toys, was probably his favorite. He had let it roll into the street once and a horse had nearly stepped on it, but his mother had mended it neatly with court-plaster, and it seemed good for many more days.

"Rub-a-dub, dub! Rub-a-dub, dub!" he pounded gaily now as he swung along at the head of his gallant forces.

"I don't think generals play drums," David Spellman had said doubtfully, when Sunny Boy first organized his army.

"Well, I'm going to play mine," Sunny Boy had retorted firmly. "Daddy says when you're short of help a man has to do two people's work. I can play my drum and be general, too."

"Halt!"

Sunny Boy issued his order so quickly that the army was startled and stepped on one another's heels as they came to a standstill.

"This square's a good place to drill," he explained. "I'll see how well you know the man'l of arms."

Sunny Boy meant the manual of arms, and his idea of army drill, gleaned from the talk of his father and one or two older cousins, wasn't very clear; but then, his army didn't know much about it either, so his authority wasn't questioned.

"Column right!" said Sunny Boy.

The army obediently turned to the right.

"Ruth, don't you know which is your right?" demanded Sunny Boy severely.

A general must keep up discipline, you know, and when a girl is in an army she must do just as the others do.

"I get mixed 'bout right and left," admitted Ruth Baker cheerfully. "But I'm all right now, Sunny. See?"

"All right," approved Sunny Boy graciously. "Column left!"

The army swung to the left.

"Look here, I don't intend to have you children making a noise like this in front of my house!" The handsome glass-paneled door of the house before which the army was drilling had opened suddenly. A woman whom Sunny Boy afterward described to his mother as "awful big and tall" came out on the steps and frowned down at the children. "Why on earth do all the children in the neighborhood pick out my house to play around?" she continued fretfully.

Sunny Boy's army wanted very much to run home, but he showed no signs of running himself so they waited, huddled together in a frightened little group.

"Why don't you stay at your own homes to play?" persisted the woman.

The woman really wasn't very tall, not taller than Sunny Boy's own mother. She came out so unexpectedly and stared down at the children so crossly that she seemed taller than she was. She had near-sighted eyes, and wore big, thick-rimmed glasses, and these, too, made her look more severe.

"Well?" she demanded.

Sunny Boy stood at the foot of the steps and smiled at her. He knew she wasn't always upset like this.

"You have such a nice sidewalk," he explained, putting down his drum and removing his cap as Mother had taught him. "It's so wide and smooth. I should think it would be great for roller-skating."

"I won't let 'em!" the woman answered quickly. "In the summer I just about spend my whole day chasing children off this walk. I didn't have it put down for a roller-skating rink. What are you young ones doing, anyhow?"

"This is my army," Sunny Boy indicated the column with a backward sweep of his hand. "We were marching, and we stopped to drill. But we'll go, if you'd rather."

"That's a cunning little girl," said the woman, looking at Ruth. "Is she a soldier, too? I thought only boys could join the army."

Sunny Boy explained that Ruth was taking the place of a private who didn't want to do his duty.

"We'll be going now," he added politely.

"Wait a minute," said the woman, who didn't seem cross at all now. "I've been bothered to death this morning—company telephoning they were coming to spend the afternoon and then changing their minds after I had the lemonade all made and on the ice. I have a lot to bother me."

She looked a little wistfully at Sunny Boy. He didn't know it, but she was trying to say she was sorry she had been impatient and testy. Grown-ups frequently find it as difficult to say "I'm sorry" as boys and girls do.

"I wonder if your army would like some nice ice-cold lemonade?" said the woman abruptly. "Would your mothers mind, do you think?"

"Not lemonade," Sunny Boy assured her promptly. "'Sides, it is a long time to lunch, and Mother doesn't mind if you don't eat just before lunch."

"Well, all right, then. But how shall I give it to you?" asked their would-be hostess. "If I bring it out here all the neighborhood will come and want some. And I do hate to have so many children tramping in over my clean rugs."

Not without reason was Sunny Boy a general.

"I can march 'em in the basement door," he suggested. "They'll stay in a row and not muss anything."

So it was decided. The woman went in and closed the door, promising 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."

"All of us?" asked Sunny Boy, beginning to pick up the shells and sea-weed. "Where's Bobbie, Daddy?"

"All of you," assented Mr. Horton. "Bobbie Henderson? Oh, his mother sent for him. Ready now, children?"

Mr. Horton put Ruth Baker in the front seat because she was the only girl, and the seven boys piled happily into the tonneau. They were all ready to start when Sunny Boy, turning around, saw a grinning little colored boy holding on at the back of the car. Mr. Horton saw him, too.

"Hey, get down from there!" Sunny Boy's father called crisply. "You'll be hurt, taking a chance like that. Get off now, before I start the car."

The woolly black head and grinning brown face disappeared, but Sunny Boy set up a loud wail.

"Daddy, he took my hat! See him! He's got it! Let me get out and chase him!"

"Stay where you are," commanded Mr. Horton. "You can't catch him now. Perhaps we can find him later. If not, Mother will have to get you another hat to-morrow."

"It was brand-new," Sunny Boy explained mournfully to David, as the car started. "Mother bought it for me to wear to New York. And now that colored boy went and stole it!"