“I wonder if you will need that extra coat?” Aunt Bessie was saying, as Sunny Boy came into the room.
For the two weeks were nearly gone and it was time to get ready to go to see Grandpa Horton. Early that morning Daddy had brought down the big trunk from the storeroom, and ever since breakfast Mother and Aunt Bessie had been busy packing clothes into it. Aunt Bessie kept a list of the things they put in so that Mother would be able to tell when the trunk was full whether she had left out anything she needed.
“I’ll go and get my things,” announced Sunny Boy, and Aunt Bessie blew him a kiss and went on with her work.
Upstairs Sunny Boy looked a long time at his toys before he could decide what to do about them. He couldn’t leave his kiddie-car, that was certain. And there was the woolly black dog he took to bed with him at night, and a Teddy Bear that he was almost too old to play with, but not quite, and the wooden blocks. Then he would be sure to need his fire-engine and the roller skates. He must take all those with him. He made three trips down to Mother’s door with the toys, and then, going down for the third time, he remembered the wind-mill out in the sand-box and ran out after that and brought it in.
“Bless the child, what is all this?” cried Aunt Bessie, as he came into Mother’s room, bringing as many of the treasures as he could carry at one time.
“I’m helping,” explained Sunny Boy. “There’s more out in the hall.”
He put down his load and ran out to bring in the rest.
“But, precious,” said Mrs. Horton, looking from the kiddie-car to her little son, “we can’t take all these things with us. Why, Mother wouldn’t have a place to put your socks and blouses, to say nothing of the cunning bathing-suit we bought yesterday.”
“You won’t need them, you know,” urged Aunt Bessie. “You’ll be so busy playing with the new things you’ll find up at Grandpa Horton’s that you’ll probably never remember the toys at home. Then when you come back they will seem like new ones.”
Sunny Boy was disappointed. His kiddie-car was the hardest to give up. The woolly dog, too, was very dear to him. Mrs. Horton understood, and she sat down in her low rocking chair and took her little boy on her lap.