Grandpa Horton tried to frown at Bob, but he only succeeded in smiling.  And Bob smiled back.

“I did catch a little cold,” the boy admitted.  “You see, my feet were sort of wet.  But it’s most gone now.”

“I hope it is.  But you’re hoarse yet,” said Grandpa Horton.  “So you’re the lad who kept his head and brought my Sunny Boy safely ashore.  There are a number of folks at our house, Bob, who would like to tell you what they think of you.  We looked everywhere for you the next day and for several days afterward.”

“Don’t let anybody come!” croaked Bob in his poor, hoarse voice.  “Please, don’t let ’em come, sir.  It was nothing to do.  I only kept the lunatics from walking on the little chap.  I hate people making a fuss.”

“There, there, no one shall make a fuss,” Grandpa Horton promised him.  “Don’t tire your throat with talking.  I want to have a word with your mother and father, Bob, so I’ll leave Sunny Boy to entertain you.  He can do enough talking for two boys when he gets started.”

Grandpa Horton went into the other room, and left Sunny Boy and Bob alone.  There was no chair for Sunny Boy to sit on, so he stood beside Bob and talked to him.  He told him about the “other grandpa” and the funny mistake the short man who wore glasses had made.  And he told Bob what the tall policeman had said about good boys not being afraid of the police.

“And he said you were good to pull me off the ice,” added Sunny Boy.

“Shucks, that wasn’t anything to do,” said Bob.  “I wasn’t afraid of seeing a policeman, either.  But they always tell you to get a move on or to go on where you’re going, or something like that.  I just don’t have any use for a policeman.”

“You’ll get your throat tired,” said wise little Sunny Boy, who saw that Bob was excited over the mention of the policeman.  He sat up in bed and his cheeks were very red.  “I’ll show you how to play the baseball game.  You don’t have to talk to play that.”

They were having such a good time playing the baseball game that neither one of them heard Grandpa Horton come into the room.  He said it was time for him and Sunny Boy to go home, but Bob was so eager to finish an inning that Grandpa Horton said he would wait a few minutes.  Bob won, and this seemed to please him very much.

“I’ve going to leave word at Doctor Stacy’s as we go past his office,” said Grandpa Horton, buttoning Sunny Boy into his coat.  “He will drop in to-day to see your father and look you over, Bob.  We won’t try to pay you for what you did for Sunny Boy, but you must understand that you have made at least four good friends for life—­Sunny Boy’s father and mother and his grandma and grandpa—­and we claim the right of friends to look after you.  Your father has taken the sensible view, and we’ve arranged matters so that you will all be more comfortable till your father’s arm heals.  Then, when he has a job and you’re rid of that cold, you must go back to school.  Sunny Boy’s father may have a place in his office this summer for a boy who goes to school regularly through the winter.”