"Daddy's name is Harry Horton, and I am named for Grandpa, Arthur Bradford Horton," he announced rapidly. "An' we live in Centronia."
"Now you're talking," said the clerk approvingly. "Here you are." He read from the big register: "'Mr. and Mrs. Harry Horton and son'. You're son. And your room is 1038. Jack, you take him up, will you? Is any one there, or have they gone out and left you alone?"
Sunny Boy explained that his mother was lying down, and Jack lifted him from the counter and went over with him to the elevator.
"He lost his room," he told the elevator boy as they shot up. "Didn't you bring him down?"
"Must have come down in one of the other cars," said the elevator boy. "I don't remember him. Here's your floor."
Jack showed Sunny Boy which was the door to his room, and, still grinning at the idea of losing one's way in a hotel, he went back.
"Why, Sunny dear, where have you been?" Mrs. Horton was sitting up in bed as Sunny Boy came in. "I woke up a minute ago and thought you were still painting. Then I spoke to you and found you weren't in the room. Where did you go?"
"I got lost," said Sunny Boy placidly.
He told his mother what had happened and she laughed.
"Here's Daddy," she announced, as some one rapped on the door. "Come in, Harry. Sunny Boy's adventures in New York have already begun."