“I wish, Grandpa—­” he began excitedly, “I wish the big boy who pulled me off the ice had waited to see you.  He was afraid of the policeman, or maybe he might have stayed.”

“I wish I had seen him,” said Grandpa Horton seriously.  “He must have had his wits about him to get you out of that crowd so easily.  That was what was worrying me all the time—­I was afraid that a little chap like you would be knocked down by that struggling crowd.”

“I wish I could see the boy,” said Mrs. Horton wistfully.  “I would like so much to thank him, and Daddy would, too.  Don’t you even know his name, Sunny?”

Sunny Boy shook his head.

“I forgot to ask him,” he admitted.

“Well, never mind,” said Grandpa cheerily.  He did not believe, he often said, in feeling sad over things you could not help.  “Perhaps we will see him again.  You would know him, wouldn’t you, Sunny Boy, if you should see him on the street?”

“Ye-s, I guess I would,” answered Sunny Boy.  “His coat was ripped in the back and where it didn’t button, and he wore a blue sweater with green buttons.  I would know the green buttons, Grandpa.”

Grandpa Horton laughed, but Mrs. Horton and Grandma looked grave.

“I’d like to knit him a good sweater,” said Grandma.  “Like as not the child needs warm things to wear.”

“Boys wear old clothes to skate in, of course,” Mrs. Horton said.  “But last night when Sunny Boy told me how rough and red his hands were and that his skate straps were tied with string, I wondered if he wasn’t a boy from the River Section.  He may need more than our thanks for taking care of Sunny Boy.”

“We’ll go out and try to find him after lunch,” promised Grandpa.  “Shall we, Sunny Boy?”

“Oh, yes, let’s!” cried Sunny Boy joyfully.  “Let’s go skating again, Grandpa.”

And after lunch they put on their mufflers and overcoats and caps and Sunny Boy hung his skates on his arm and they set out for Wilkins Park and the skating pond.

But first Mother had to kiss Sunny Boy and Harriet had to kiss him and they all waved their hands to him till he and Grandpa turned the corner and could not be seen from the house any more.

“We have to find the big boy, don’t we?” said Sunny Boy, trying not to gasp as the wind blew down the avenue and almost took his breath away.

“Yes, we must be on the look-out for him,” Grandpa Horton replied.  “I have an idea he may be at the pond.”

But, though they looked carefully when they came to the skating pond, they could not find a boy who looked like the one Sunny remembered.  The pond was crowded again with skaters and they were laughing and singing as though they had never heard of the ice cracking.

Sunny Boy put on his skates, and this time he had better luck with his lesson.  Grandpa said he was doing finely.  And, indeed, he did not fall down more than twice, and one of those times, as he explained, was a mistake.  Another boy skated into him and “tipped him over,” Sunny Boy said.  Just as Grandpa said it was time to stop, Sunny Boy looked up and saw his friend, the tall policeman, standing on the shore.