fed
camel that was almost large enough for him to ride. His jaw went up
and down if you poked it right, and he had two most realistic humps.
"You could go and see Daddy and then come back and get me."

"But, precious, what would Daddy say? He'll want to see you. And there
will be many other times for you to come over and visit the toys.
Besides, think, Sunny--suppose he wanted to take you riding on the
Fifth Avenue bus?"

That settled it. Sunny Boy was ready to go immediately. Anyway, he
realized that he had a queer feeling he couldn't just name, but he
suspected that maybe he was hungry.

They found Mr. Horton waiting for them in their room, and Mrs. Horton
had so much to tell him that Sunny Boy had to wait his chance to ask a
most important question.

"Daddy," he began when his father finished telling the waiter what to
bring, and after they were in the dining room and seated at the table,
"Daddy, do you think p'haps we could go riding on the bus?"

Mr. Horton smiled.

"Well, I'll tell you," he said, glancing at his watch. "Mother wants
to lie down and rest a bit this afternoon and I have to meet some men
within an hour. But if you are a good boy, I'll take you when I come
back. That will be about three o'clock. How'll that do?"

Sunny Boy thought that would be very nice, and he ate his luncheon
contentedly. Afterward he and Mother went upstairs, and Daddy had to
go and keep his appointment.

"Now you see how much company we are for each other," said Mother, as
she changed her dress and put on a pretty blue dressing gown. "With
such a busy Daddy, wouldn't we be lonesome here in New York all
alone?"

Sunny Boy nodded solemnly.

"Could I paint pictures?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course. You'll find your paint box and a pad of paper in that grey
box in the trunk tray. Mother's going to lie down just a second. Pull
the little table over to the light, dear, and you'll have a nice,
quiet time," directed Mrs. Horton.

Sunny Boy dragged the table over nearer to the window, found his water
color paints and the paper and set to work to paint a picture. He
talked a steady stream to Mother at first but, as he grew interested
in his work, he forgot to talk.

"There now!" he said softly, when he had finished three pictures. "I
think they're good. I'll show 'em to Mother."

But Mother was fast asleep. Sunny Boy tiptoed carefully around the
bed, but she did not wake up.

"I don't want to paint any more," decided