Project Gutenberg's Sunny Boy in the Big City, by Ramy Allison White This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Sunny Boy in the Big City Author: Ramy Allison White Illustrator: Charles L. Wrenn Release Date: October 26, 2008 [EBook #27052] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNNY BOY IN THE BIG CITY *** Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Suzanne Shell, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Cover Sunny Boy was speaking to the tall policeman who directed traffic from the center of the street. (See Page 193) SUNNY BOY IN THE BIG CITY BY RAMY ALLISON WHITE Author of "Sunny Boy in the Country," "Sunny Boy at the Seashore," etc. ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES L. WRENN BARSE & HOPKINS PUBLISHERS NEW YORK, N. Y. NEWARK, N. J. Copyright, 1920 By Barse & Hopkins Sunny Boy in the Big City CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I The Parade 9 II Oliver's Lesson 23 III Off for New York 36 IV Going Shopping 52 V Sunny Boy Loses His Room 67 VI On Top of the Bus 82 VII In Central Park 97 VIII The Ferryboat Ride 110 IX When Make-Believe Is Real 125 X More Sightseeing 139 XI Sunny Boy Gets Lost 154 XII Sunny Boy Is Found 169 XIII Helping the Harritys 182 XIV Joe Brown Goes Back 195 XV Home Again 208 ILLUSTRATIONS "Sunny Boy was speaking to the tall policeman who directed traffic from the center of the street" Frontispiece PAGE "He had not supposed that a moving stairway went further than one story" 63 "Sunny Boy was just the least little bit afraid when they went under the elevator tracks" 91 F "Sunny Boy sat down sociably on an old soap box" 165 SUNNY BOY IN THE BIG CITY CHAPTER I THE PARADE all in!" said Sunny Boy sharply. The army, six small boys distributed comfortably over the front steps, scrambled to obey. That is, all except one, who remained seated, a sea shell held over each ear. "I said 'Fall in,'" repeated Sunny Boy patiently, as a general should speak. "I heard you the first time," admitted the small soldier. "Did you know these shells made a noise, Sunny?" "Of course," answered Sunny Boy scornfully. "Any shell sounds like that if you hold it up to your ear. Come on, Bobbie, we're going to parade." But Private Robert Henderson, it seemed, didn't feel like parading just that minute. "Let's take this stuff out to the sand-box," he suggested. "We can make a real beach, with shells and everything. Gee, you must have had fun at the seashore." "Did," said Sunny Boy briefly. He was exasperated. As general of his army he tried not to be cross, but Bobbie was famous for always spoiling other people's plans. He never by any chance wanted to do what the other boys wanted to do. "You can play with the sand-box after we parade," announced Sunny Boy now. "Come on, Bobbie." Bobbie remained obstinately absorbed in the shells. "Let me!" Down the steps tumbled a pink gingham frock and a fluff of yellow bobbed hair that proved to be four-year- old Ruth Baker. She lived next door to Sunny Boy, and her brother, Nelson, was already marking time with the waiting army. "Let me march, Sunny Boy," Ruth begged. "I can mark time, an' everything!" Sunny Boy decided swiftly. "All right," he assented. "I don't think much of girls in an army, but I s'pose it's better than being one short. Get in next to David." Ruth's feelings were not easily hurt, and she didn't mind if her enlistment was not accepted with enthusiasm as long as she was accepted. She slipped happily into line back of David Spellman, a freckle-faced boy with smiling dark eyes. "Forward, march!" Sunny Boy beat a lively quick-step on his drum and the army moved down the quiet street, leaving Bobbie Henderson playing with the shells. Sunny Boy's drum, of all his toys, was probably his favorite. He had let it roll into the street once and a horse had nearly stepped on it, but his mother had mended it neatly with court-plaster, and it seemed good for many more days. "Rub-a-dub, dub! Rub-a-dub, dub!" he pounded gaily now as he swung along at the head of his gallant forces. "I don't think generals play drums," David Spellman had said doubtfully, when Sunny Boy first organized his army. "Well, I'm going to play mine," Sunny Boy had retorted firmly. "Daddy says when you're short of help a man has to do two people's work. I can play my drum and be general, too." "Halt!" Sunny Boy issued his order so quickly that the army was startled and stepped on one another's heels as they came to a standstill. "This square's a good place to drill," he explained. "I'll see how well you know the man'l of arms." [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] Sunny Boy meant the manual of arms, and his idea of army drill, gleaned from the talk of his father and one or two older cousins, wasn't very clear; but then, his army didn't know much about it either, so his authority wasn't questioned. "Column right!" said Sunny Boy. The army obediently turned to the right. "Ruth, don't you know which is your right?" demanded Sunny Boy severely. A general must keep up discipline, you know, and when a girl is in an army she must do just as the others do. "I get mixed 'bout right and left," admitted Ruth Baker cheerfully. "But I'm all right now, Sunny. See?" "All right," approved Sunny Boy graciously. "Column left!" The army swung to the left. "Look here, I don't intend to have you children making a noise like this in front of my house!" The handsome glass- paneled door of the house before which the army was drilling had opened suddenly. A woman whom Sunny Boy afterward described to his mother as "awful big and tall" came out on the steps and frowned down at the children. "Why on earth do all the children in the neighborhood pick out my house to play around?" she continued fretfully. Sunny Boy's army wanted very much to run home, but he showed no signs of running himself so they waited, huddled together in a frightened little group. "Why don't you stay at your own homes to play?" persisted the woman. The woman really wasn't very tall, not taller than Sunny Boy's own mother. She came out so unexpectedly and stared down at the children so crossly that she seemed taller than she was. She had near-sighted eyes, and wore big, thick- rimmed glasses, and these, too, made her look more severe. "Well?" she demanded. Sunny Boy stood at the foot of the steps and smiled at her. He knew she wasn't always upset like this. "You have such a nice sidewalk," he explained, putting down his drum and removing his cap as Mother had taught him. "It's so wide and smooth. I should think it would be great for roller-skating." "I won't let 'em!" the woman answered quickly. "In the summer I just about spend my whole day chasing children off this walk. I didn't have it put down for a roller-skating rink. What are you young ones doing, anyhow?" "This is my army," Sunny Boy indicated the column with a backward sweep of his hand. "We were marching, and we stopped to drill. But we'll go, if you'd rather." "That's a cunning little girl," said the woman, looking at Ruth. "Is she a soldier, too? I thought only boys could join the army." Sunny Boy explained that Ruth was taking the place of a private who didn't want to do his duty. "We'll be going now," he added politely. "Wait a minute," said the woman, who didn't seem cross at all now. "I've been bothered to death this morning— company telephoning they were coming to spend the afternoon and then changing their minds after I had the lemonade all made and on the ice. I have a lot to bother me." She looked a little wistfully at Sunny Boy. He didn't know it, but she was trying to say she was sorry she had been impatient and testy. Grown-ups frequently find it as difficult to say "I'm sorry" as boys and girls do. "I wonder if your army would like some nice ice-cold lemonade?" said the woman abruptly. "Would your mothers mind, do you think?" "Not lemonade," Sunny Boy assured her promptly. "'Sides, it is a long time to lunch, and Mother doesn't mind if you don't eat just before lunch." "Well, all right, then. But how shall I give it to you?" asked their would-be hostess. "If I bring it out here all the neighborhood will come and want some. And I do hate to have so many children tramping in over my clean rugs." Not without reason was Sunny Boy a general. "I can march 'em in the basement door," he suggested. "They'll stay in a row and not muss anything." So it was decided. The woman went in and closed the door, promising to open the iron basement gate for them, and Sunny Boy turned to his army. "Forward march!" he ordered. A little fearfully the army marched down the area steps and into a dark hall. They each had a feeling that the woman [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] might change her mind after all, and scold them again. But she was smiling as they tramped into her old-fashioned kitchen. "Halt!" commanded Sunny Boy, and the army ranged itself against the wall without further orders. "I'll give each one a glass, and then I'll pour the lemonade," said the hostess pleasantly. She went down the line, filling a tall crystal glass for each child. Then, after that, she brought out a plate of brown and white cookies and insisted that they must each take three. "Sugar cookies don't hurt any one," she declared, patting Ruth on the head as she passed her. "Do they, General?" "I guess not," agreed Sunny Boy contentedly, munching a cake. When they had finished, they put the glasses carefully on the table, and said "Thank you" politely. "My name is Miss Lyons, Miss Edith Lyons," announced their hostess, following them to the door. "I'm going to watch you march off, and I hope you'll come to see me again." "We didn't muss anything, did we?" asked Sunny Boy anxiously. He felt responsible for all the rest. Miss Lyons stooped down and kissed him. "Bless your heart, for a thoughtful little boy," she said warmly. "You haven't hurt a thing. Good-bye, Soldier, and good luck!" "Fall in!" Sunny Boy commanded as they reached the walk. "Forward, march!" The drum sounding merrily, the army fell into step and marched down the street, Miss Lyons waving her handkerchief in good-bye. "Those were good cookies," chuckled Harold Wallace, who marched beside Sunny Boy. "Gee, I wanted to run when she opened the door. Did you know her, Sunny?" "My, no," Sunny Boy assured him. "I guess she was just glad to have somebody come and drink up all that lemonade." When they reached Sunny's house, a familiar touring car was drawn up at the curb. "Daddy's home!" cried Sunny Boy. "P'haps he'll give us a ride. Where's Bobbie?" Bobbie was not in sight, but his shells lay scattered on the top step where he had left them. "Well, well, who wants a little ride?" Mr. Horton came smiling down the steps. "Sunny Boy, Mother wants you to pick up this stuff and put it in the hall. Any one's likely to fall over it out here. And then I'll take you round the park and back." "All of us?" asked Sunny Boy, beginning to pick up the shells and sea-weed. "Where's Bobbie, Daddy?" "All of you," assented Mr. Horton. "Bobbie Henderson? Oh, his mother sent for him. Ready now, children?" Mr. Horton put Ruth Baker in the front seat because she was the only girl, and the seven boys piled happily into the tonneau. They were all ready to start when Sunny Boy, turning around, saw a grinning little colored boy holding on at the back of the car. Mr. Horton saw him, too. "Hey, get down from there!" Sunny Boy's father called crisply. "You'll be hurt, taking a chance like that. Get off now, before I start the car." The woolly black head and grinning brown face disappeared, but Sunny Boy set up a loud wail. "Daddy, he took my hat! See him! He's got it! Let me get out and chase him!" "Stay where you are," commanded Mr. Horton. "You can't catch him now. Perhaps we can find him later. If not, Mother will have to get you another hat to-morrow." "It was brand-new," Sunny Boy explained mournfully to David, as the car started. "Mother bought it for me to wear to New York. And now that colored boy went and stole it!" CHAPTER II OLIVER'S LESSON ou going to New York?" Harold Wallace asked curiously. "When? My cousin lives there. He's coming to see me next [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] Y summer." Sunny Boy bounced around excitedly on the seat. That is, he bounced as much as he could in the rather crowded space. "Yes, we're going to New York," he announced. "To-morrow—no, the next day—when is it, Daddy?" "Soon," said Mr. Horton. "Send me a post-card for my album," begged Ruth. "Me, too," chimed in Nelson. All the boys, it seemed, wanted post-cards from New York. "Well, maybe, if Mother will write 'em," agreed Sunny Boy dubiously. "I can print A's and B's, but not a real letter writing. Are you going to get out, Daddy?" The car had circled a large green that made attractive the center of the city, and Mr. Horton had parked before a busy grocery store. "I'm going in here to do an errand for Mother," he said. "Now, youngsters, I won't be long, and every one of you stay in the car till I come back. I don't want to have to hunt up missing boys when it's time to go home." Ruth Baker turned so she faced the back of the car. "You never stay at home, Sunny Horton!" she declared accusingly. "I think it's mean. You were going to play Indian braves and sleep out in the tent, and pretty soon it will be so cold Mother won't let us." "You have been away a lot, haven't you?" suggested David. Sunny Boy considered. "I had to go to see my Grandpa Horton," he urged. "And then I had to go to see my Aunt Bessie. And Daddy would be lonesome in New York without Mother and me. He said so." You see, Sunny Boy had had a busy summer. First he and his mother had gone into the country to visit his grandfather who lived on a farm. Sunny Boy was named for this grandfather, "Arthur Bradford Horton," though Daddy and Mother called him Sunny Boy, and many people thought he had no other name. Grandfather Horton's farm was known as "Brookside," and Sunny Boy learned to love the place dearly in the month he spent there. You may have read what he did there and the friends he made in the first book about him, called "Sunny Boy in the Country." After Sunny Boy and his mother came home from "Brookside," they went almost immediately to visit Mrs. Horton's sister, Sunny's Aunt Bessie, in her bungalow at Nestle Cove. Mr. Horton took them down to the seashore in the automobile, and Sunny Boy had a delightful time playing in the sand and learning to swim. He found a little lost dog, too, as you may remember if you have read the book about him called "Sunny Boy at the Seashore." Now he was at home again in Centronia, the city where he and his daddy and mother lived, and they were getting ready to make a trip to the great city of New York. "Where 'bouts does your cousin live?" Sunny Boy asked Harold Wallace, hoping his friends understood that all this traveling he was experiencing was truly necessary. "P'haps Mother and I'll see him." "I don't know exactly where he lives," answered Harold cautiously. "But I know it is in a brick row. Aunt Lucy wrote my mother when they moved." "I'll tell Daddy," promised Sunny Boy confidently. "He'll know what street. Don't get out, Oliver." Oliver Dunlap, red-haired and blue-eyed, grinned provokingly. "Wait till you see me," he retorted. "Can't I put just one foot out of the car?" Of course, having one foot out, Oliver in another moment had both feet on the running board and from there jumped to the sidewalk. "Daddy said to stay in the car," insisted Sunny Boy. "He only meant not to go away," said Oliver. "Oh, look at the crowd coming!" The children stood up in the car and stared in the direction Oliver was pointing. On the next block they could see a man running swiftly, followed by a crowd of people, and back of them two policemen. "Come back, Oliver!" screamed Ruth, jumping up and down with excitement. "Make him come back, Sunny." But before Oliver could run over to the car, if he had wanted to, the man, the crowd close upon his heels, had reached the spot where Oliver stood. He caught hold of him, whirled him about, and dropped something into his hands, all [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] without stopping his headlong flight. The crowd immediately closed in around Oliver just as Mr. Horton, attracted by the noise and the shouting, came out of the store. One of the policemen continued to run after the man. "Oh, Daddy, get Oliver," Sunny Boy almost sobbed, as his father came over to the car. "Why, where is he?" asked Mr. Horton, surprised. "Aren't you all here?" "Oliver isn't. He's in there." Sunny Boy pointed to the crowd which was growing larger every minute as more and more people pressed in, eager to know what the excitement was about. "Oh, gee!" Sunny Boy's eyes grew wide with wonder and terror. The other boys in the car looked frightened. Ruth began to cry. A policeman had come out from the center of the crowd, and he had Oliver by the arm. Oliver was crying, and looked very small and miserable. "Why, Oliver Dunlap!" Mr. Horton walked up to him, and put his arm protectingly around the frightened child. "What is the matter, Officer?" "Do you know him?" asked the policeman politely. "Maybe that's different then. That pickpocket stole a lady's purse, and here's the empty bag he left in the kid's hands. We thought they were together—using the boy to cover up his tracks, you see." "I left him in my car ten minutes ago with these other children," said Mr. Horton calmly. "He's Henry Dunlap's son. Your chief knows his father." "If you say it's all right, it is," pronounced the policeman. "Don't cry, kid, you're all right now. Sorry to make you any trouble, sir." He turned to push back the crowd, which was surging about the automobile now, and Mr. Horton lifted in Oliver. Then slowly, so as not to injure any one, he steered the car out of the mass of people and turned it around. "Guess you'll stay in the car the next time, Oliver," jeered Harold Wallace. "That'll do, Harold," said Mr. Horton sharply. "I'm going to take you all around the park twice now and then we'll scoot home for lunch. It is twelve o'clock. I don't want to take home such solemn faces. See if you can't smile a bit." By the time they had circled the park twice every one felt decidedly more chee Even Oliver had managed a smile, though it would be some time before he could see a policeman and not want to run. Sunny Boy had so much to tell Mother at lunch that he almost forgot to inform her of the loss of his hat. Seeing her trying on a new hat before the hall mirror after lunch reminded him. "And how can I go to New York without a hat?" he finished sadly, when he had described to her how the colored boy had run off with his beautiful new, round, blue hat. "You can't, of course," said Mother. "I'll have to take you down town again to-morrow and buy you another. Harriet, here's Sunny Boy losing his new hat before he's had it three days." "Dear, dear! Do tell!" said Harriet, who was passing through the hall on her way upstairs. She sat down to listen. "I might take Sunny down through the River Section," she suggested to Mrs. Horton. "We could go this afternoon. All the colored folks live there, you know, and Sunny might see the boy. I'd make him give the hat back, drat him!" Mrs. Horton had little faith in their finding boy or hat, but she was willing they should go, and so Harriet and Sunny Boy set out half an hour later, bound for the River Section, which was over on the other side of the city from where the Hortons lived. They decided to walk there and then ride home if they were tired, and Sunny Boy found much to interest him along the way. They passed a horse that had lost his nosebag before he had eaten all his oats and who was regarding it hungrily as it lay on the ground at his feet. "Fix it, Harriet," implored Sunny. "He hasn't had all his dinner." So Harriet stopped and picked up the nosebag and fixed it nicely on the horse's nose. He went right to eating the moment she had it in place, but Sunny Boy was sure his wise brown eyes thanked them gratefully. "Look, Harriet!" they were crossing another street when Sunny Boy's quick eyes spied something else that interested him. "See, little desks." A man was carrying desks into a brown stone house, and a large number of similar desks were propped up on the walk. "'Miss May Ford's School for Boys and Girls.'" Harriet read the shining brass plate on the side of the house as they walked slowly past. "Why, Sunny, that must be the Miss May your mother talks about. I guess that's where you'll be going to school this winter." [29] [30] [32] [33] S Sunny Boy stared at the building with interest. He was very eager to learn what school was like, and he hoped that as soon as they came back from New York he would go to school every day as Nelson Baker did. Two or three blocks further on Harriet turned suddenly down a side street. "Now begin to look, Sunny," she admonished him. "See if you see a boy that looks like the one who took your hat this morning. How old would you say he was?" "'Bout 'leven," returned Sunny Boy wisely. "He acted 'bout that, anyway. Isn't that a cunning baby, Harriet?" Harriet wasn't interested in babies just then. She was determined to find that missing hat. "That looks like him," Sunny pointed an accusing finger at a colored boy leaning against a rickety porch railing. At the same moment the boy saw them and started to run. "We can't chase him," said Harriet. "He'll run up some alley. You stay here on the sidewalk, and I'll ask if he lives in this house." A little girl answered Harriet's knock. "Yes'm," she said, she knew the boy. "He don't live here—don't live nowhere," she volunteered. "He just hangs around. His name is Pete." "Well, there's no use in looking any further," announced Harriet, rejoining Sunny Boy on the pavement. "Pete, if that's his name, won't show up around here for several days now. And before that you'll be on your way to New York." CHAPTER III OFF FOR NEW YORK unny Boy and I will go ahead and get the trunk checked," said Mr. Horton, picking up the two suitcases that stood in the hall. "Where's your hat? You haven't lost it again, have you?" Sunny Boy dashed under the table and picked up his new hat. "It's all right," he assured his father anxiously. "It just fell off when I wasn't looking. Mother bought it yesterday. Does it do for New York, Daddy?" "I don't see why not," replied Mr. Horton, smiling. "All through, Olive? Sure you and Harriet can lock up all right?" Mrs. Horton came into the hall, pencil and pad in hand. It was the day for leaving—Sunny Boy had been afraid that it would never come—and they were almost on the way to New York. The train would leave Centronia Union Station in an hour. "I'm finishing the list of things I want Harriet to remember," explained Mrs. Horton. "Sunny, dear, did you say good-bye to her? All right then, run along with Daddy. And I'll meet you at the south entrance not later than a quarter of ten." Sunny Boy and Daddy took the street car, and Sunny was so blissfully happy to be beginning the journey at last that a white-haired gentleman next to him asked him if he was thinking about Christmas. Sunny Boy shook his head. He hadn't begun to think of Christmas. That was months and months away. "I'm going to New York," he informed the white-haired gentleman proudly. "Daddy and Mother and me. And I can ride on top of the busses, Daddy said so." "Dear me," said the gentleman, "that is a long trip for a chap of your age. I have a little grandson who lives in New York. He's counting the days now till he can come to see me." This was a new idea to Sunny Boy. "Do you s'pose folks who live in New York like to come to see Centronia?" he asked doubtfully. "Just as much as you count on going to New York," said the white-haired gentleman promptly. "It's new to them, you see. Here's my corner now. Good-bye. I hope you will have all the good times you are looking forward to." "Isn't it funny, Daddy?" said Sunny Boy, watching the gentleman go out the door. "Most everybody has relations living in New York. Harold Wallace's cousin lives there. Have we any 'lations to go to see?" "Not in New York," answered Mr. Horton, pressing the button to tell the motor-man to let them off. "You and Mother will have to amuse each other, because you may find it lonesome at first with no friends to talk to." They were opposite the station now, and the car stopped. Sunny Boy hopped off blithely, but his thoughts were busy [34] [35] [36] [37] [38] [39] with what Daddy had said. How could one be lonely in New York? "'Member the time the baggage man thought the alarm clock was a 'fernal machine?" asked Sunny Boy, as he followed his father into the station and over to the baggage room. "Indeed I do," Mr. Horton laughed. You see, when Sunny Boy and his mother had been going to see Grandpa Horton, Sunny, as his part in the packing, tucked in the family alarm clock so that he would be sure to get up early in the country. And he forgot the clock might be set, as it was. The station people had held the trunk and it took a great deal of explaining, and the Hortons nearly missed their train before they were allowed to check the trunk. The baggage man remembered Sunny Boy. "How's the alarm clock?" he grinned cheerfully. "Any more infernal machines in your baggage this time?" Sunny Boy smiled shyly. "We didn't have a finger in packing this trunk," Daddy answered for him. "All right, Son, we're fixed. Now we'll see if we can get some parlor car seats." But, it seemed, the parlor car seats were all sold. "All the way through. Convention going to-day on your train," announced the man behind the brass-barred window. "Sorry, but you'll have to go in the day coach." "You and I don't mind, Sunny," said Mr. Horton, as they walked over to the south entrance to wait for Mrs. Horton. "It is rather hard on Mother, but perhaps she won't mind. It isn't so warm to-day." "And we can put the window up," suggested Sunny Boy helpfully. "Oh, there's Mother!" He ran to meet her and brought her over triumphantly to the seat saved for her. "Am I in time?" she asked a little anxiously. "Ten minutes yet? That's fine. There was a block on the cars." "Get your breath, and then I think we'd better go through the gate," counseled Mr. Horton. "Couldn't get parlor car seats, so the earlier we get on, the better chance we have of getting a good seat. I'll take the grips, Sunny, you take care of Mother." Sunny Boy felt that he was an experienced traveler when he handed the tickets to the man at the gate, Daddy's hands being occupied with the suitcases. The long gray train shed was filled with shining dark cars and snorting, puffing engines, but Daddy seemed to know where to go, and he led the way. "This is all right," he decided, coming to a stop before a coach. He put down the heavy suitcases and took the tickets from Sunny. "They'll be safer in my wallet," he explained. "But you may give them to the conductor if you wish. Up you go—there!" Sunny Boy found himself on the platform beside Mother, who had gone first. He followed her into the nearly dark car, and they found two nice seats near the center and on what Daddy said would be the shady side as soon as they pulled out of the shed. "If a crowd comes in we must give up one of these seats," Mr. Horton said, turning back one so that it faced the other. "But until then let's be as comfortable as we can." He put the suitcases in the racks overhead, put Mother's light dust coat up with them, and raised both windows. Sunny Boy and his mother sat facing Daddy. "Now we're off," announced Mr. Horton, smiling at Sunny Boy, who was watching everything. A few more people came into the car, but not many, and after what seemed a long wait to Sunny, they heard the conductor's long-drawn-out "All a-bo-ard!" The train groaned and started slowly. "And now we're going!" declared Sunny Boy, with satisfaction. "Now we're going," echoed Mother. "Don't put your head out, Sunny. If the wind blows too strongly we'll have to put the window down." Sunny Boy hoped it wouldn't blow too much. He loved to feel it rumpling his hair and cutting gently across his cheek. "There's Haver's grocery," he cried, as they passed the red-brick store on a street corner. "And the market! There's where we punctured a tire, Daddy. And, look! There's where Harriet took her shoes to be mended!" "Not so loud," cautioned Mr. Horton. Indeed, Sunny had unconsciously raised his voice, and several people were [40] [41] [42] [43] [44] smiling at him. So Sunny Boy made up a little song to amuse himself as the train went slowly through the city streets, streets he knew fairly well because he had ridden through them with his father in the automobile. "Bicycle shop, gasoline station, fresh egg store," sang Sunny softly. "Mr. French's ice-cream—wonder if he'll know I've gone to New York." Soon the train began to go faster, and Sunny Boy did not know the little towns they were passing through. Almost before he knew it, the waiter came through announcing lunch, and the Hortons went into the dining-car. This was the third time Sunny Boy had eaten on the train, and he was, as he said, "'Most used to it." When they came back into their own coach, and had settled down, Mr. Horton to read his paper and Mrs. Horton with a book to read aloud to Sunny, a tall, thin, rather odd looking man who had sat huddled up in a corner seat suddenly clapped his hand to his eye and began to act strangely. "Ow!" he cried. "Ow! I told you not to have that window opened. Oh! Oh, my! What shall I do?" "He must be in a fit," said the woman in the seat behind the Hortons. "Appendicitis, probably," declared the man across the aisle. "Nonsense," said Mr. Horton briskly. "He has a cinder in his eye. I wonder if he would let me take it out for him?" There was a crowd about the man now, and as Mr. Horton went down the aisle to help him, Sunny Boy slipped out of his seat, too, and tagged along after. "I know something about first-aid," he heard his father say. "Let me look at your eye. Stand back, neighbors, we need a little room." Watching, Sunny Boy managed to see his father take out a clean white handkerchief and a lead pencil. He seemed only to look at the man's eye, and then the cinder was out and the excitement over. "If that boy hadn't opened his window, this never would have happened," declared the man, who was grateful to Mr. Horton for relieving his pain, but determined to lay his misfortune to some one. "I'm going into the smoker. Perhaps a man can have a little less fresh air and a bit more common sense in there." He tramped angrily away. Sunny Boy looked for the first time at the boy in the seat ahead, who had been leaning over the back apologetically, fearful that his open window really had caused the trouble. "Why, Joe Brown!" said Sunny Boy. Joe turned a dull red. He was a boy whom Sunny did not know very well, and he was a number of years older, twelve or thirteen years old at least. His mother often did sewing for Mrs. Horton, and Sunny sometimes saw Joe at Sunday school and at the grocery store where he sometimes worked after school. "Hullo, Sunny," said Joe Brown awkwardly. "Where you goin'?" "To New York," announced Sunny Boy importantly. "Where you going?" "To New York," was the answer. "How do you do, Joe?" asked Mr. Horton kindly, coming up to him. "Taking a trip, too, are you?" "Yes, sir," mumbled Joe. "Going to see my Aunt Annabell in New York." "Where does she live?" said Mr. Horton with interest. "Perhaps we can drop you there on our way from the station. Do you plan to stay long?" Joe Brown fumbled with his cap. "I don't know just how long I'll stay," he blurted out. "Maybe all winter. I've got Auntie's address somewhere in my satchel. I know how to get there all right." Mr. Horton went back to his seat, but Sunny Boy lingered. "You're another with 'lations in New York," he observed. "Harold Wallace has a cousin, and the gentleman on the street car had a grandson. I wish my Aunt Bessie lived in New York. Have you been there before?" "No, I haven't," admitted Joe Brown. "But I guess one city's pretty much like another. I went to Chicago when I was six. I'm going to see all the big places when I'm grown up." "There's Mother motioning to me," said Sunny Boy. "Come on and see her." But Joe Brown wouldn't. "I have to write a letter," he protested hastily. [45] [46] [47] [48] [49] O Sunny Boy went back to his parents. He had an odd feeling that Joe Brown was not looking forward to seeing New York as much as he, Sunny Boy, was. "Is he sick, do you think, Daddy?" he urged, his troubled eyes resting on Joe, now huddled moodily in his seat and making no pretense of letter-writing. "No, he's all right," said Mr. Horton easily. "Come, laddie, we're almost at the end of our trip. Sit down by Mother and see your first glimpse of one of the largest cities in the world." Sunny Boy scrambled into his place again, but Joe Brown was still in his thoughts. Presently he heard his father speaking in a low voice to his mother. "Olive, I believe that young scamp, the Brown boy, is running away from home. He has it written all over him. I wish we could keep an eye on him." "But Mrs. Brown has a sister who lives in New York," said Sunny Boy's mother. "He may really be going to visit her." "Perhaps," admitted Mr. Horton doubtfully. There was no time to say more just then for the train rushed down from daylight into what was next to darkness. "Oh!" cried Sunny Boy, "where are we going, Mother? Are we in a cellar?" "We are going down under the Hudson River into New York," explained Mrs. Horton. "That will save us the trouble of going over on a ferryboat." Sunny Boy was very much interested in the ride under the river and asked many questions. "I should think the river would leak in on us," he remarked. "And we haven't any umbrellas along." "We are perfectly safe," his father assured him. Then in a few minutes the bustle of getting ready to leave the train began. "We'll take a taxi," announced Mr. Horton, holding his wife's coat for her. "Take Mother's hand, Sunny. Careful, now." Down the steps on to the platform, where Mr. Horton gave the suitcases to a porter, and they joined a steady stream of people all going in one direction. CHAPTER IV GOING SHOPPING h, look! There's a bus! Let's ride on top," cried Sunny Boy, pointing out toward the street as one of the Fifth Avenue busses lumbered into sight. "But our taxi is here," reasoned Mr. Horton, helping in Sunny Boy's mother as he spoke. "And I couldn't go up on top with these heavy bags. Come, Son, and you shall have your ride to-morrow." Sunny Boy climbed into the taxi cab, Mr. Horton followed, and they were on the way to their hotel. It was a brief ride, but in those few moments Sunny Boy was sure he had seen more automobiles than he had ever seen in his life. He probably had, for it was the time of day when the city traffic is heaviest, and never-ending streams of motor-cars and trucks and wagons were being driven on the cross streets, as well as on the avenues. "I feel as if I wasn't here," said Sunny Boy slowly, watching the crowds from the open window. Mr. Horton glanced down at him and smiled. "You do look rather small in all this," he admitted; "but I should say you were very much here. And here's our hotel, and I think you are ready for supper." The taxi cab stopped before the McAlpin Hotel, and Sunny Boy, holding fast to Daddy's hand, went into a beautiful high-ceilinged room ablaze with light. He and his mother sat down in one of the big chairs while Mr. Horton registered and arranged for their room. Then a severe-faced boy took the suitcases and led them into an elevator. "I wonder if he's cross," thought Sunny Boy to himself, studying the face of the boy as he stood stiffly, his eyes fixed grimly on the wire grating of the elevator. He was staring at him so hard that when the boy turned and caught him Sunny Boy blushed. The boy stuck out his tongue and immediately resumed his stern expression. [50] [51] [52] [53] [54] "He wears such a lot of buttons," thought Sunny Boy, who in all his life had never been in a hotel to stay over night. "I wonder did he really stick out his tongue—" The elevator stopped while Sunny Boy was trying to decide, and the Hortons followed the boy along a silent corridor till he stopped before a door and, unlocking it, ushered them into a large, pleasant room. "Well, dear, hungry?" asked Mrs. Horton. "He did it again," said Sunny Boy. "Who did what?" laughed Mrs. Horton. "Sunny, don't let New York addle you like this. I asked if you were hungry." "That boy did stick out his tongue," explained Sunny Boy. "I don't guess he is cross at all. When he closed the door he winked at me. And I am hungry, Mother." Supper, as Sunny Boy insisted on calling it, or dinner, was rather a vague affair to him, for he was not only hungry but very sleepy after the long train ride. He liked riding down in the elevator and up again, but he was glad enough to go to bed. "It's just like the three bears," he said to Mother as she helped him to undress. "Big Bear, Middle-sized Bear, and Little Bear," he added, pointing to the three beds in the room. "Did they know I was coming and put a little bed in for me?" "Daddy asked them to," said Mother. "Now a little wash, precious, and you'll be in Dreamland in two seconds." There was a pretty white bathroom opening into the room, and Sunny Boy enjoyed a splash, and then tumbled into bed. In the morning he had a hard time to get dressed, because he found it so interesting to stare out of the window down at the busy streets. "Such lots of people and trolley cars and automobiles—and everything!" he reported to his mother, who insisted that he really must finish dressing. "Do you suppose they know I'm looking at 'em?" "I doubt it," said Mother, brushing his hair smooth. "Now don't put your nose on the screen again, Sunny. We're going downstairs in just a minute. Daddy is almost through shaving." "You look dressed up, Mother," announced Sunny Boy critically. "And aren't we going to eat breakfast first?" "First?" repeated Mrs. Horton, puzzled. "Oh, you mean I have my hat and veil on. Well, dear, I believe you and I are going out right after breakfast, and I won't have to come upstairs again. Ready, Daddy?" Soon they were in the dining room. "Where are we going?" asked Sunny Boy, at the table and trying not to feel queer when the waiter brought him his cantaloupe with the same flourish with which he served Daddy sitting opposite. "Why, I'm going to be very busy this morning," explained Mr. Horton, "and I thought you and Mother might enjoy a little shopping trip. I'll meet you here for lunch. Anything you specially want to buy, Sunny?" "Some post cards," replied Sunny Boy promptly. "Ruth Nelson wants one for her collection. And I could get Aunt Bessie a present." "I'd wait till we're almost ready to go home for Aunt Bessie's present," said Mr. Horton kindly. "You'll know better what you want then. But get the post cards by all means this morning." He gave Sunny Boy a bright new fifty-cent piece. "I think we'll walk," decided Mrs. Horton, serving the golden brown omelet carefully. "Put your money in your new purse, dear. Harry, have you heard from Mr. Vernon yet?" Left to himself while his parents talked business matters, Sunny Boy looked about the dining room. He saw several children, little girls and boys here and there, and a little girl across the room nodded and smiled at him. Sunny Boy wondered where the boy who had carried up their suitcases was. "I didn't bring my hat," he mourned when breakfast was over. "Can I go and get it, Mother?" "I brought it down, dear," was the answer. "We're going right away. Daddy has some telephoning to do, and we'll go on." In the hotel lobby Sunny Boy saw the suitcase boy, as he had named him, again. He didn't seem quite so severe as he had at night, and when Sunny smiled at him he actually returned it with a grin that showed a set of very white teeth. "What a funny carriage," said Sunny Boy, calling Mother's attention to a queer looking vehicle on two wheels and drawn by a bob-tailed horse, which was the first thing he saw when they got out on the street. "Look where the coachman is." The driver was perched up on a little seat behind and held the reins over the roof of the coach. [55] [56] [57] [58] [59] "That's a hansom cab," explained Mrs. Horton. "They were very popular and stylish before the automobile came." Privately Sunny Boy thought it wasn't very handsome, and the poor old horse was no longer stylish if he had ever been, but there was little time to think about hansom cabs, for just then Mother remarked: "Here's the big store where they have such a wonderful toy department." It was a big store, much larger than any Sunny Boy had ever seen in Centronia, and it seemed filled with people to him. "Oh, Mother!" he stopped so short that several people nearly fell over him, "what's that?" "That" was a long shining moving thing on which people were being wafted gently upward. It reminded Sunny Boy of the fairy tale he had seen in the motion picture where the Wishing Girl who wanted to fly was suddenly granted her wish. "Where do they go?" Sunny Boy asked so loudly that a floor-man heard and answered him. "That's an escalator," he announced, much as one might say: "That's a strawberry." "It's a moving stairway, precious," added his mother. "I suppose you want to ride on it. Well, first I must get Daddy some handkerchiefs, for we never packed him a one. And we'll find out on which floor the toys are, too." Sunny Boy waited patiently while the handkerchiefs were bought, and then while Mother chose a new veil, a pretty white one with black dots. "Here are the post-cards, Sunny," she said, turning into another aisle. "See which ones you want for Ruth and Nelson." "What do they say, Mother?" asked Sunny Boy, wishing he could read. "May I send all the boys some?" Mrs. Horton said he could, and she helped him select a dozen views of New York, promising that he should print his name on each one and that she would write whatever messages he wanted sent. "You can look them over this afternoon," she suggested, "and see what places you want to see first. That will be nice, won't it?" "Yes, Mother," agreed Sunny Boy. "And now can we ride on the alligator?" "The escalator?" corrected Mother, laughing heartily. "Why yes, I think we are about ready to do that. The girl at the handkerchief counter told me the toys were on the sixth floor. Do you think you want to ride that far on such a queer thing?" "He had not supposed that a moving stairs went further than one story" Sunny Boy was enraptured. He had not supposed that a moving stairway went further than one story, and the thought of riding to the sixth floor was bliss. He felt decidedly odd when he put his foot on the moving platform at first, but ahead of him and behind him people were serenely moving up, so he knew everything must be all right. When he [60] [61] [62] [63] [65]