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 Sunny Boy. "What'll I do?"
He remembered the bell-boy they had seen first the night before. He would go and visit him.
Sunny Boy opened the door into the corridor carefully, so as not to disturb Mother, and closed it carefully behind him. The halls were lighted, though it was daytime, and the thick carpet was so soft that Sunny couldn't hear the noise of his own feet.
"Where 'bouts," he speculated aloud, "do they have the stairs in this house?"