im.

He decided to make a kite and go out and fly it, the wind at the window
making him think of kite-flying and the sight of a mass of papers on
Grandpa's desk in one corner of the room suggesting what to make the kite
of. He went over to the desk and climbed upon the chair standing before
it.

Ordinarily Sunny Boy had a good memory. He could remember things for
Mother and he seldom forgot where he had left his toys, but this morning
a strange thing happened--his memory did not work at all. He forgot
completely that Mother had told him not to touch other people's things
without permission and that books and papers were not to be opened or
even unfolded unless one first asked.

Sunny Boy thrust a hand down among the papers on Grandpa's desk and
pulled out two nice smooth brown pieces of paper that seemed strong and
just exactly right for a kite. For good measure he took a letter or two,
and then scurried out to the kitchen for string.

He had never made a kite, but he had often watched the boys in the park
at home flying them, and he had a very good idea of how they were made.
He had his own bottle of paste Mother had brought for him and he found
the kind of sticks he wanted out in the yard. In half an hour he had the
papers pasted smoothly over the sticks, a wiggly tail of crumpled papers
from the waste-basket tied on, and yards and yards of string wound on a
piece of wood. Sunny Boy was ready to sail his kite.

Araminta gave him a cookie and advised him to go down by the brook.

"There's more breeze there," she said. "But for mercy's sake don't fall
in again. And come in when you hear me ring the bell."

Sunny Boy trudged down to the brook and started running with his kite as
he had seen the boys do, to give it a good start. Up, up, it went,
sailing high over his head, the crumpled paper tail wiggling in the
wind.

"Jus' as good," said Sunny Boy to himself, "jus' as good."

He meant to say "Just as good as Archie Johnson's," Archie being one of
the older boys who played in the park and who sailed elaborate kites. But
Sunny had not tied the knots in his string tightly enough, and a strong
puff of wind coming by, the cord parted and away sailed the kite, over
the brook and into the woods!

"Ding-ling! Ding-ling! Ding-a-ling!" rang Araminta's bell.

It is often a good thing to be too busy to cry. Sunny Boy might have felt
bad over the loss of his kite--indeed he watched it out of sight--but if
he meant to cr