human
You see, precious, Mrs. Horton began,
gpt
Daddy saw that the storm was getting worse, and he tried to telephone me to tell Harriet to go after you. But the telephone wires were out of order and he couldn't get us; so he sent a messenger. Harriet started out at once, but, as you know, Miss May sent you home early, and by the time Harriet reached the school you were gone. She hurried home, expecting to find you here. And then wasn't I frightened when the afternoon went by and you didn't come! I sent Harriet down to Daddy's office, and he came home. By and by Mr. Smiley came and one or two other fathers to ask if we knew anything about their children. Miss May started out in all the storm to look for you, and a policeman had to bring her back, for the wind was too much for her.
human
Yes, it blew like--like anything! agreed Sunny Boy.
gpt
Did you think I was lost, Mother?
human
Yes, I did, precious. And so you were, you know,
gpt
There comes Mr. Harris! cried Sunny Boy, as the postman came down the street.
human
Let me go, Mother. Perhaps there is a letter for me!
gpt
letters to the relatives and friends who sent him Christmas presents. But, as a rule, he did not write letters, and that is probably the reason he did not receive many. Still, it is fun to expect letters, and Sunny Boy liked to say:
human
Any for me?
gpt
Hello, you didn't get snowed in after all, did you? said kind Mr. Harris, smiling at Sunny Boy when he opened the door.
human
You had this house in a turmoil yesterday, young man.
gpt
What's a turmoil?
human
It's an upset, replied the postman.
gpt
What happened to you, anyway?
human
And we came home in Mr. Parkney's sleigh, finished Sunny Boy.
gpt
Have you any letters for me, Mr. Harris?
human
Two for your mother, and a paper for your daddy, said Mr. Harris slowly.
gpt
And--let--me--see-- He began to go over his letters again, very slowly.
human
Let--me--see-- he said again.
gpt
Oh, here it is! I thought I'd lost it. Are you Arthur Bradford Horton? You are? Well, Sunny Boy, here's a nice, big, square white letter for you. And I'm glad the blizzard didn't blow you away.
human
Oh, Mother, look! he shouted.
gpt
I have a letter! It's addressed to me from somebody. Did Aunt Bessie write to me?
human
Open your letter and read it,
gpt
It isn't a letter; it's a Christmas card,
human
Oh, no, precious, no one would sent you a Christmas card in January, declared Mrs. Horton.
gpt
See, dear, it is an invitation to a party. Oliver Dunlap is eight years old next week and he is going to have a birthday party. Won't that be fun!