Sunny Boy, here's a nice, big, square white letter for you. And I'm
glad the blizzard didn't blow you away."

Sunny Boy took his letter eagerly, mumbled "thank you," and ran
upstairs as fast as he could go.

"Oh, Mother, look!" he shouted. "I have a letter! It's addressed to
me from somebody. Did Aunt Bessie write to me?"

"Open your letter and read it," said Mrs. Horton laughingly.

Sunny Boy took the paper knife she gave him and cut the envelope as he
had seen his daddy do.

"It isn't a letter; it's a Christmas card," he said in disappointment.

"Oh, no, precious, no one would sent you a Christmas card in January,"
declared Mrs. Horton. "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!"

Sunny Boy was glad Oliver had sent him an invitation to his party and
not a Christmas card. He spent the greater part of the afternoon
writing an answer to the letter. First he wrote it in pencil, and when
he had shown the pencil copy to Mother and Harriet and Aunt Bessie (who
came to lunch and to see if Sunny Boy was quite well after his snow
storm experience) and they had all said it was a very nice answer
indeed, he copied it in ink. He had to do this five times before it
satisfied him. Sunny Boy would not send a letter to Oliver with the
tiniest spot of ink on it, and he was willing to do a thing over and