e straps were swollen with water and stiff and cold. Sunny Boy
worked at them till his poor little fingers were blue, but he could not
unfasten them. So Sunny Boy was ready to cry with cold and
disappointment and loneliness when a man spoke to him. It is not
strange that a little boy should feel like crying when he has lost his
grandpa and his feet are wet and his hands are so cold they ache.

"Are you lost, little boy?" he asked.

He was a short man, and he stared at Sunny Boy so hard through round,
black-rimmed Spectacles that the little boy felt rather uncomfortable.

"No, thank you, I'm not lost," he answered politely. "But my grandpa
is. I can't find him anywhere."

"Well, well, you don't tell me!" replied the man eagerly. "Why, I
heard a grandfather saying back there in the crowd that he was looking
for his little grandson. Come along and I'll help you find him."

The short man was very kind, for he knelt down and unbuckled the
stubborn skate straps and tied them over Sunny Boy's arm. Then he took
his hand and led him back into the crowd up to a worried-looking old
gentleman.

"Excuse me, sir, I think I've found your little grandson," he said. "I
discovered this little fellow over by the edge of the pond. He is
looking for his grandpa."

The worried-looking old gentleman was tall and thin. He had no white
mustache and no gray-and-white muffler. He was not Grandpa Horton at
all.

"What ails the man!" cried this grandpa, glaring at the short man. "I
am looking for my granddaughter and he brings me a lost boy!"

"Oh, my!" murmured the short man, dropping Sunny Boy's hand. "I'm
sorry. I'm so absent-minded. I hardly ever get things straight. I
thought you said you had lost your grandson. Excuse me," and he turned
and stepped back into the crowd, leaving Sunny Boy alone again.

This other grandpa stared at Sunny Boy silently for a few minutes and
Sunny Boy stared back. Then the old gentleman threw back his head and
laughed and laughed. He laughed so heartily that Sunny Boy had to
laugh, too, though he could not see that there was anything funny to
laugh at.

"Well, poor James Ridley has made a mess of it as usual," said the old
gentleman, when he could stop laughing. "I suppose, because I called
Adele my little girl, he went about looking for a child. She is
seventeen and able to take care of herself almost anywhere. Well,
child, if I were your grandfather I'd want some one to look af