ABOVE HER HEAD FLOATED THE BASKET WITH LILY IN IT.ABOVE HER HEAD FLOATED THE BASKET WITH LILY IN IT.
Six Little Bunkers at Aunt Jo's.—Page 102
"I can make things as good as Russ, even if I can't whistle like him," she said. "This is fun! Don't you like it, Lily?"
Of course Lily couldn't answer and say that she did, but if dolls like airship rides I'm sure this one of Rose's did.
Up and along floated the balloons, lifting the basket, and then, all of a sudden, something happened.
Rose said, afterward, that it was not the fault of Alexis, though the barking of the big dog made her jump and lose her hold on the string that was fast to the basket in which the doll Lily rode as if in an airship. But that is what happened.
As Rose was walking along, letting the balloons float over her head, and giving a ride to Lily, the big dog came bounding out of the side yard. He wanted to play with Rose, and he raced toward her, jumping up and down. Rose was afraid he would jump up and put his paws on her, and Alexis was so big that when he did this to any of the six little Bunkers he almost always knocked them down. In fact, he had knocked Mun Bun and Margy down more than once, but only in fun, and he had not hurt them.
"Go away, Alexis! Now go away!" exclaimed Rose, as she held the string above her head. "I can't play with you now, because I got to give Lily an airship ride. Go away, Alexis!"
But Alexis didn't want to go away! He barked and he danced around, and he kept coming closer and closer to Rose, until he really almost bumped into her. And then it happened.
Rose let go of the string, by which she was holding the basket that had Lily in it, and up it shot, high in the air, pulled by the gas-filled toy balloons. There were six of them, extra big ten-cent ones, and they could easily lift the small doll in the basket.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" cried Rose, three times. "Look what you made me do, Alexis! Oh! Oh!"
And yet, afterward, Rose said it wasn't the dog's fault.
"I oughtn't to have taken anybody's balloon but mine, and then they wouldn't be lost," said the little girl sadly.
For that is what happened.
Up and up into the air, high above Rose's head, shot the six balloons—red, green andblue—carrying the doll. When she first felt the string pulling out of her hand Rose did not know what to do. Then, as she saw the balloons sailing away, she jumped up into the air and tried to grab them. But it was too late. Away over the trees sailed the airship Rose had made, carrying her doll on an unknown voyage.
"Oh, dear!" cried the little girl again, as she saw that, no matter how high she jumped, she could not get hold of the string again. "Oh, dear!"
She looked at the six floating balloons, hoping they might get caught in a tree, as once one did that Mun Bun had.
But no such good luck as this happened. The balloons sailed clear of the trees and went on and on and up and up, becoming smaller and smaller.
"Oh, my poor, dear Lily!" sobbed Rose, and she was really crying now. "My dear, darling Lily!"
"Why, what is the matter, my dear?" asked Aunt Jo, who came along, just then. "Has anything happened? Did Alexis hurt you?" for she saw the big dog standing near Rose,and thought perhaps, in his play, he might have scratched the little girl.
"No, it wasn't the fault of Alexis," said Rose, "though he did bump into me and make me let go of the string. But I ought never to have taken the balloons."
"The balloons?" asked Aunt Jo, not exactly understanding at first.
"Yes," said Rose. "They're gone. I made an airship of 'em for my doll, and—there she goes!"
She pointed up into the air. Aunt Jo saw the toy balloons, tied to the handle of the basket, and they were getting smaller and smaller.
"Oh, my dear little girl!" said she. "And you have taken all the balloons! That's too bad!"
And Rose cried harder than ever. Really she had not done just right, but of course she had not meant to spoil the fun of her brothers and sisters, and lose their toys. But she had.
Pretty soon Russ, Laddie and the others came from having watched William get the automobile ready.
"Where are our balloons?" demanded Laddie, not seeing them tied to the fence.
"They're gone," said Aunt Jo softly, as she put her arms around Rose.
"Gone?" cried Russ. "Where? Did they bust?"
"I made an airship of 'em," confessed Rose, "and let go the cord when Alexis bumped me, and—and there they go!" and she pointed to the sky.
Well, you can easily imagine that the five little Bunkers felt quite bad at losing their balloons. Margy and Mun Bun cried, being the smallest. Vi looked as if she wanted to, and so did Laddie. But Laddie felt he was too big, and Vi didn't want to do anything her twin brother didn't do; especially crying.
Russ swallowed what seemed to be a lump in his throat, and then, learning that his sister's doll had been carried off in the "airship" and seeing how bad Rose felt, and noticing the tears on her cheeks, he said:
"Oh, well, maybe the balloons would have busted anyhow. I don't care 'cause you lost mine, Rose."
"I don't either," said Laddie bravely.
Then Vi said the same thing. Wasn't that good of them? I think so.
Of course Margy and Mun Bun, being little, felt worse over the loss of their balloons than the others did. But Aunt Jo found some pieces of candy for the little tots, and promised they could have new balloons in a few days.
"And now we'll all go for an auto ride," she said.
That made Margy and Mun Bun smile, and the other little Bunkers also felt better.
"Will you take us out the way the balloons are blowing?" asked Russ, for the "airship" could still be seen, a faint speck in the sky.
"Why do you want to go that way?" asked Aunt Jo.
"Because maybe then we can get the balloons back," Russ said.
"And my doll, too, and the basket!" added Rose eagerly.
"Maybe," said Russ. "You know balloons and airships have always got to come down. They can't sail on forever, and when this one you made, Rose, comes down, we can get it, and your doll, too."
"Oh, won't that be good!" cried the little girl. "I do hope we can!"
"Well, of course you may find it," said Aunt Jo; "but I'm afraid you never will, Rose. Of course I know, around the Fourth of July, sometimes fire balloons, that burn out and don't burn up, come down. Once one came down in our yard, and William got it. And this may happen to the balloons you sent up, or that you let get away from you. The gas may all go out of them, as it probably will, and the basket and the doll will come down."
"I'd like to get Lily again, awful much," said Rose. "'Course she wasn't my best doll, but I love her just the same."
"Well, we'll take an automobile ride," said her aunt, "and if we see the airship down anywhere we'll get it."
"Maybe some other little girl will find it, as you did the pocketbook, and want to keep it," suggested Russ.
"Well, if she knew it was my doll wouldn't she give it back to me?" asked Rose.
"I'm sure she would," put in Aunt Jo. "But don't set your heart too much on it, mydear. I'm afraid your doll is gone forever."
But you just wait and see what happens.
They all went for an automobile ride, and, though they looked in the direction the balloons had floated, they did not see the "airship." Rose and Russ even asked several policemen they passed if they had seen the balloons and basket with the doll in it come down, but none had.
Of course Rose felt bad, and so did the other little Bunkers, about losing their balloons, but there was no help for it. They were gone.
It was a day or so after this, and the children were talking about a trip to Nantasket Beach Aunt Jo was to take them on, when just as lunch was about to be served, Parker came in to say:
"We are all out of bread, Miss Bunker. The baker forgot to stop. Shall I send William for some?"
"Oh, let me go!" begged Vi. "I know where there is a bakery, right down the street. It isn't far."
"Are you sure you know the way?" asked Aunt Jo.
"'Course I do," Vi answered.
"Well, you may go," said Aunt Jo. "Only be careful not to get lost. Don't turn around the wrong corners."
"I won't," promised Vi.
But that is just what she did. She got the bread all right, but, on the way back she stopped to pet a kitten that rubbed up against her. And then Vi got turned around, and she went down a side street, and walked two or three blocks before she knew that she was wrong.
"Aunt Jo doesn't live on this street," said the little girl to herself, as she stopped and looked around. "I don't see her house and I don't see Mr. North's. I must have come the wrong way."
So she had, and she turned to go back. But she went wrong again, making a turn around another corner and then Vi didn't know what to do. She stood in front of a house, with the bread under her arm, and tears came into her eyes.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Vi. "It's terrible to be lost so near home!"
This was not the first time Violet had been lost. More than once, even in her home town of Pineville, she had wandered away over the fields or out toward the woods, and had not been able to find her way back again. But always, at such times, Norah or Jerry Simms, or Daddy or Mother Bunker had come to find her and take her home.
"But I don't see any of them now," said Vi, as she gazed around her. There were quite a number of persons on the street, for it was the noon hour, but the little girl knew none of them, and none of them seemed to pay any attention to her.
I think, though, almost any one of those who passed by poor little Vi, standing there in the street, if they had known she was lost, would have gone up to her and tried to help her.
But there were many children in the street, and several of them were standing still, looking not very different from Vi, except that she was crying—not a great deal, but enough to make her eyes wet.
"I guess I'd better walk along a little," said Vi to herself, after a bit. "Maybe I'll see Aunt Jo's house, or Russ or Rose or—or somebody that knows me."
Poor little Vi, just then, would have been glad to see even Alexis, the big dog. Alexis would lead her home, Vi felt sure. But the big dog was not in sight.
Vi walked a little way down the street, and then a little way up it. She looked at all the houses and at every one she met, still holding fast to the loaf of bread. But she did not see Aunt Jo's house, and she did not know any of the men or women or boys or girls that passed her.
"Oh, I'm worse lost than ever!" sighed the little girl. "I wonder what I can do. I'm going to ask some one!"
Now the best way for Vi to have done was to have gone up to one of the houses and asked where her Aunt Jo's home was. Butthe funny thing about it was that Vi wasn't quite sure what her aunt's name was. Her own name, she knew, was Violet Bunker, but she never spoke of Aunt Jo except just by that name, never using the last part and, while it was the same name as her own, Vi didn't know it. She felt she couldn't very well go up to a house and say:
"Where does my Aunt Jo live?"
The person in the house would be sure to ask:
"What is your aunt's last name, my dear, and on what street does she live?"
But Vi didn't know that. So you see she was quite badly lost, though she had only been away from her aunt's home a little while.
And then, as the little girl stood there, the tears coming into her eyes faster than ever, along came a rather tall girl with a pleasant face, who, as soon as she saw Vi, went up to her and asked kindly:
"What is the matter? Did you lose your money?"
"Oh, no," Vi answered, "I didn't lose my money, but I've lost myself. I spent themoney for bread for Aunt Jo, but I came on the wrong street, I guess, and I don't know where she lives."
"Where who lives?"
"Aunt Jo. I'm one of the six little Bunkers and we're staying at Aunt Jo's, but I don't know where she lives."
Then this tall, pleasant-faced girl asked, just as any one else would have done:
"What's Aunt Jo's other name?"
And Vi didn't know!
Then the girl tried to get Vi to tell in what sort of house Aunt Jo lived, and near what other houses or big buildings it was. But Vi was only six years old, and she hadn't noticed much about houses. She had been too busy playing.
"But Aunt Jo has a big dog," said Vi. "He's an awful big dog, and he almost knocks you down when he plays with you. If I could find him he'd take me home."
"What's the dog's name?" asked the girl.
"Alexis," answered Vi, "and he——"
"Oh, now I know where your aunt lives!" cried the tall girl. "I often see that big dog, and I have heard the chauffeur call himAlexis. I remember it because it's a sort of Russian name, and I like to read about Russia. Now I can take you home."
"Can you—really?" asked Vi eagerly.
"Surely. I know the very house where Alexis lives, and if you live there with your Aunt Jo I can take you home. It isn't far; come on. My name is Mary Turner, and my mother used to sew for a lady on the same street where your aunt lives. I know the way; come on."
Taking hold of Vi's hand, the kind girl led her along the street, around a corner and down another block and then Vi cried:
"Oh, now I'm all right. I know where I am now. That's Mr. North's house and I see Aunt Jo's house and here comes Daddy to meet me!" And surely enough, along came Mr. Bunker, looking up and down the street for a sight of his little girl, who had been gone so long for the loaf of bread that he knew she must be lost.
"Well, if you're sure you can find your way I'll let you run along by yourself," said Mary Turner.
"Oh, yes, I'm all right now," said Vi. "Myfather sees me, and he's waving to me. Thank you for taking care of me."
"I'm glad I could help you a little," said Mary.
"Does your mother sew any more?" asked Vi.
"No," answered Mary, and her voice sounded sad. "She had a great shock, and she's ill in the hospital now. I have to go to work to take care of her. Well, good-bye, and don't get lost again," and Mary turned down a side street and walked on, waving her hand to Violet.
"Well, little girl, what happened to you?" asked Daddy Bunker, as he walked up to his daughter. "We were getting worried about you, so I came out to see what had happened."
"I got lost," Vi answered. "I went down the wrong street, but Mary Turner—she knew where Alexis lived, and she brought me to you."
"Who is Mary Turner?" asked Mr. Bunker.
"That's the nice girl that just went away," said Vi, pointing, for her new friend wasstill in sight. "Her mother used to sew for somebody on Aunt Jo's street, but she's in the hospital now—I mean her mother is; she's sick."
"That's too bad," said Mr. Bunker. "Aunt Jo might do something for her. But perhaps the girl doesn't like to ask. Anyhow, I'm glad you're not lost any longer. Come along to lunch now."
So that's how Vi was lost and found. And she was soon eating lunch with the other little Bunkers and telling them what had happened.
"What can we do this afternoon to have fun?" asked Russ, as he got up from the table.
"Let's see if we can't make a better harness for Alexis, and have him pull us in the express wagon," suggested Laddie. "I found some strong rope that we can tie on him."
"All right, we'll do that," agreed Russ. "That'll be fun."
"Will you give me a ride?" asked Mun Bun. "I'll help you make the harness if you will."
"Yes, we'll give you a ride," said Russ,"but I guess we can make the harness ourselves. Come on, Laddie."
"I'm going to play with my doll," said Margy. "My rubber doll is all dirty and I'm going to wash her."
"Well, don't turn the hose on her, as Russ and Laddie did to William," laughed Aunt Jo. "Just wash your doll in a basin of water, Margy dear."
"Yes, I'll do that, Aunt Jo," answered the little girl.
"I'm going to make a new dress for my big best doll Sue," announced Rose. "I haven't got my little Lily to love now, so I'll make Sue look nice. You didn't find my doll that went up in the airship, did you, Daddy?" she asked.
"No," answered Mr. Bunker. "And I don't believe I ever shall."
"And we haven't heard who lost that pocketbook with the sixty-five dollars in it," said Mrs. Bunker. "It is very strange no one claims the money."
"Yes," said Aunt Jo, "it is. But some day we may find out who owns it. Though if we don't by the time you folks are ready togo home, it will belong to Rose, for she found it."
"And then I can buy a new doll," said the little girl.
So, while Russ, Laddie and Mun Bun went to the garage to try to make another harness for Alexis, Rose and Margy played with their dolls. Violet said she was tired from having walked around so much when she was lost, though I think it was because she had cried, so her mother put her to bed for a short nap. Then Daddy Bunker went downtown and Aunt Jo and Mrs. Bunker sat on the porch sewing.
It was about half an hour after Margy and Rose had begun to play with their dolls, Margy washing her rubber one in a basin of water, that something happened. Margy got up from the side porch where she was sitting with Rose, and said:
"I'm going to dry her now."
"Dry who?" asked Rose.
"My rubber doll," answered Margy. "She's all wet and I'm going to take her down in the laundry where Parker is, and put my doll by the fire to dry."
"All right," answered Rose, "don't burn yourself."
"I won't," said Margy, as she went toward the laundry, which was in the basement of Aunt Jo's big house.
A little while after this Parker, on going into the kitchen over the laundry, heard a voice crying:
"Oh, I can't get out! I can't get out! I'm stuck in and I can't get out."
"For land sakes! Who are you, and what has happened?" cried the frightened cook. "It's one of the six little Bunkers, I know," she went on, "but what happened?"
"Oh, I went to take a ride," said Margy, "and now I can't get out! Oh, dear!"
And her voice seemed to come from afar.
Parker was a good cook, but she did not know much about children. She liked them though, and was kind to them. So when she heard Margy's voice calling, she could not imagine what had happened, nor did she know what to do.
If it had been Mrs. Bunker, or even Daddy Bunker, they would have at once found out what the matter was. But then they were used to things happening to children.
"Oh, where are you?" cried Parker, as Margy kept on screaming.
"I don't know what you call it, but I'm in it," said the little girl, in that queer, faraway voice.
"But where is it?" asked Parker, for, somehow, the voice seemed to come from somewhere between the laundry and the kitchen.
"It's that thing you pull up and down with soap and starch and clothes on," said Margy. "I got in it to have a ride, but my leg is stuck and I can't get out and, oh, dear! I want my mother!"
"Yes, and I guess I want her, too!" exclaimed Parker. "Oh, my! This is worse than having the chimney on fire. I'll go and call your mother, child," she went on, "for I can't see a blessed hair of your head. Though you must be somewhere around, and maybe hiding to fool me."
"Oh, no, I'm not hiding," answered Margy, who, it seems, could hear Parker very well. "I'm in the pull-up-and-let-down-thing, and I want to get out!"
But Parker did not stay to listen. She ran out to the side porch, where Aunt Jo and Mrs. Bunker were sewing, and cried:
"Oh, come quick! The poor child's caught and can't get out and I can't see her!"
"Where is she? What happened?" asked Aunt Jo and Mrs. Bunker.
"She's somewhere between the laundry and the kitchen," said the maid. "I can't see her, though I can hear her and——"
Mrs. Bunker and her sister-in-law did not stop to listen to any more. To the kitchen they hurried, and there they, too, heard the voice of Margy crying:
"Take me out! Take me out! I'm in the puller-up-and-down-thing!"
Aunt Jo knew right away what Margy meant.
"She must be stuck in the dumbwaiter—that we pull up and down between the kitchen and the laundry," she said. "Are you there, Margy?" she asked as she opened a door in the side wall of the kitchen.
And then, up the shaft, came the voice of the little girl:
"Yes, I'm in here and I can't go down and I can't get up. Oh, dear!"
"Now don't cry! Mother is here," said Mrs. Bunker. "And so is Aunt Jo. We'll get you up in a minute. Don't be afraid."
Aunt Jo ran downstairs and looked up the dumbwaiter shaft. She could see the box-like waiter stuck halfway up, but of course she could not see Margy. A dumbwaiter is like a little elevator, except that, as a rule, no one rides in it. It is used to pull thingsup and down between two rooms, when a person does not want to use the stairs.
"I see what's the matter," said Aunt Jo, as she looked up the shaft once more. "Margy's foot stuck out over the edge of the box, in which she climbed to have a ride, and the waiter can't slide up and down. Her foot wedges it fast."
"Can we get it loose?" asked Mother Bunker.
"Oh, yes, easily, I think. Get me my long-handled parasol, Parker. I'll reach that up the shaft and push Margy's foot loose. Then the dumbwaiter, with her in it, will slide down."
And that is just what happened. With the end of the parasol, not pushing so hard as to hurt, Aunt Jo shoved loose Margy's foot. Then the dumbwaiter, which was a sort of open box, slid down on the rope that ran over a pulley-wheel, and Margy was lifted out. She had been crying and was frightened, but she felt all right when her mother took her in her arms and kissed her.
"How did you come to do it?" asked Mrs. Bunker.
"I came down to the laundry to dry my rubber doll after I'd washed her," said Margy, "and I put her by the fire. One day I saw Parker give a lot of bars of soap a ride on the go-up-and-down-thing."
"Yes, I do use the dumbwaiter for that," said the cook.
"Then I thought I could get a ride if the soap got a ride," went on Margy. "So, when Parker was out by the garage I went up in the kitchen, and I stood on a chair, I did, and I crawled into the go-up-and-down-thing, and it went down with me. But it didn't go all the way down. It stuck and I couldn't have a nice ride."
"I should say not!" cried Mrs. Bunker. "And you mustn't do such a thing again. You might have been hurt when you got your foot caught."
"It does hurt a little," said Margy, rubbing it.
So that's how it happened. Margy had crawled from the chair in the kitchen into the box of the dumbwaiter. It had run down with her until her foot, sticking over the edge, wedged the waiter fast, halfwaydown the shaft. Then the door in the wall blew shut, and when Margy cried Parker was so "flustered," as she said afterward, that she never stopped to think where the voice came from.
"But don't do it again," warned Aunt Jo.
"I won't," promised Margy.
From out in the yard of Aunt Jo's house came joyous shouts and laughter. Russ could be heard calling:
"Oh, it works! It works all right! Now we can all have rides."
"Well, whatever it is, I hope it isn't a dumbwaiter they're riding in," said Mother Bunker.
She and Aunt Jo looked from the window. They saw that Russ and Laddie had finally managed to make a harness for the dog Alexis, out of stronger pieces of cord than they used at first. The dog was tied with the cords to the express wagon, and seated in it were Laddie and Mun Bun. Russ was walking alongside, guiding Alexis by strings tied around his neck.
"Make him go fast!" cried Mun Bun. "I want to ride fast!"
"Oh, if he runs too fast I can't keep up with him," said Russ. "Alexis can run a lot faster than I can, and if he goes too fast I'll lose hold of him."
"Let me drive a little," begged Laddie. So Russ let his smaller brother take the strings that answered for reins. But Russ stayed near the head of the big dog, with his hand on his collar. For Russ was a careful boy, and did not want the dog to run away and, perhaps, spill the little boys out of the wagon.
"Oh, I want a ride in that!" cried Margy, when she saw what her brothers were doing. "That's nicer than the up-and-down-thing I was in."
"Yes, and a little safer," said her mother. "You may go out and Russ will give you a ride. Russ, Margy is coming out," she called. "Take care of her!"
"I will," promised the largest Bunker boy.
Then such fun as the six children had riding behind Alexis, for Violet awakened from her sleep and came out to enjoy the sport. Russ and Laddie had tied so many ropes on Alexis, fastening them to the cart, that William said it would take an hour to loosen the knots. But Alexis did not seem to mind. He walked along, pulling the cart, with two or three children in it, as easily as though he were dragging along a tin can tied to his tail, and much more sedately.
Only nobody had ever tied a tin can to the tail of Alexis. He wasn't the kind of dog one could do that to. You might have dared try when he was a little puppy, but not after he grew up to be almost as big as a small Shetland pony.
"Oh, this is lots of fun!" cried Rose, when it was her turn to have a ride. "I wish my doll Lily was here to like it."
"She had a good ride in the airship," remarked Russ.
"Oh! Oh!" suddenly cried Laddie.
"What's the matter?" asked Russ. "Did a bee sting you?"
"No. I just thought of a nice riddle. It's about the balloon airship Rose made and the dumbwaiter Margy had a ride in."
"What's the riddle?" asked Vi.
"It's like this," went on Laddie, thinking hard to get it just right. "What's the difference between Rose's airship and the dumbwaiter Margy rode in? What's the difference?"
"A whole lot!" said Rose. "They're not alike at all."
"Well, that's the riddle—what makes 'em different!" asked Laddie.
"Because they both have a basket," said Russ. "Rose tied the balloons to a basket, and the clothes basket rides on the dumbwaiter."
"Nope! That isn't it," said Laddie, shaking his head. "You see Rose's airship went up, and wouldn't come down, and the dumbwaiter, with Margy in it, went down and wouldn't come up."
"Huh! That's pretty good," said Russ. "But I guess those balloons are down by this time."
"And my doll, too," added Rose. "I wish I could find her."
"Well, part of the riddle is right, anyhow," said Laddie.
"Yes, it's pretty good," agreed Russ. "And now we'll have some more rides."
Around Aunt Jo's house, up and down thelawn and on the paths Alexis pulled the six little Bunkers in the express wagon, with the string harness, and they had lots of fun. Even the big dog seemed to enjoy it, and he didn't get tired.
It was two days after this, during which time the children had lots of fun, that something else happened. Mun Bun was the unlucky one; or lucky, whichever way you look at it.
Sometimes, even in the fashionable Back Bay section of Boston, rag peddlers came to buy odds and ends from the homes of the people. The chauffeurs or the furnace men usually attended to the selling of this, being allowed to keep whatever money they got for themselves.
One of the wagons, with bags and all sorts of things in it, stopped, one day, in front of Aunt Jo's house. The ragman knew William, who often sold him old newspapers or junk, and this time he had quite a few things to sell.
"Rags! Rags! Bottles and rags!" cried the junkman as he went back to the garage with a bag over his shoulder.
As it happened, Mun Bun was out, watching William pump air into a new tire, and when the chauffeur went into the cellar with the junkman to get the papers, Mun Bun wandered out in front to where the junkman's horse and wagon was standing.
"If I could get up into that wagon now," thought Mun Bun to himself, "I could have a better ride than with Alexis. I guess I will."
How he managed to climb up I don't know, but he did. The wagon was not very high, and there was a step near the front, and of course there were wheels. Somehow, Mun Bun scrambled up, and the horse, luckily for him, did not move while the boy was climbing. Right up on the seat got Mun Bun. He picked up the real reins, as he had seen Russ do with the make-believe ones on Alexis, and then Mun Bun called:
"Gid-dap!"
And, just as easily as you please, the horse started off as natural as anything, with Mun Bun driving. Down the street he slowly walked, much to the delight of Mun Bun.
But what would happen next?
Mun Bun smiled happily. This was more fun than he had ever expected to have at Aunt Jo's house. In fact, what little thinking he did about it was to the effect that he could have had a lot more fun by staying at Grandma Bell's.
Up he sat on the seat of the junkman's wagon, holding the reins as he had helped Russ or Laddie hold the reins on the big dog Alexis, who pulled the six little Bunkers in the express wagon.
"This is fun!" said Mun Bun.
The horse slowly walked along. Junkmen's horses hardly ever run. There are several reasons for this.
In the first place, a junkman's horse goes slowly because the junkman is never in a hurry. He wants to look at the houses on each side of the street to see if any one isgoing to call him in to sell him paper, rags, old bottles, rubber boots or broken stoves.
So, of course, a junkman wants his horse to go slowly, for then he has a chance to look at the houses on each side of the street. For nowadays the junkmen, in the cities, at least, are not allowed to ring bells and shout loudly or make much noise. They used to do that, but they can't any more.
Another reason why a junkman's horse walks slowly is that the poor horse is nearly always old and thin and hungry.
And I suppose it's a good thing this junkman's horse was old and thin and tired and hungry. That's what made him go slowly, so Mun Bun was not rattled off the seat. He was only a little fellow, and it would not have taken much of a jolt of the wagon to have tossed him off. But as long as the wagon went slowly he was all right.
"Gid-dap!" cried Mun Bun in a jolly voice, and he pulled on the reins, thinking what fun it was really to drive, and not make-believe, as he and the others had done with Alexis.
All this while the junkman was in Aunt Jo's yard, talking with William about the oldrags and papers the chauffeur had to sell. The five other little Bunkers were playing at different games, Daddy Bunker was downtown, and Aunt Jo and Mother Bunker were busy at something or other, I've forgotten just what.
So there was no one in particular to see what Mun Bun was doing, and he was just having the grandest time, all by himself, driving the poor, thin horse. Of course he wasn't really driving it. The horse just went along as it always did, as slowly as it could, and, very likely, it didn't know, or care, whether Mun Bun was driving it, or the junkman.
"Gid-dap!" cried the little fellow again, and he pulled on the reins. And then a funny thing happened. He pulled a little harder on the left rein than on the right, and, just as the animal had been used to doing whenever this happened, the horse turned to the left, and went down a side street.
Mun Bun didn't mind this. He didn't care which way the horse went as long as he was having a ride and was doing the driving. Down the side street went the junk wagon,with Mun Bun on it. He was now out of sight of any one who might be looking from Aunt Jo's yard.
The little fellow was halfway down the new block when a woman, looking from the window of her house, saw the bony horse and the old rattly, rickety wagon.
"Oh, there's a junkman!" she cried. "I've been looking for one a long time to take the papers out of the cellar. There's a junkman!"
"No, it's a junk boy," said the woman's cook, who happened to be with her. "There's no one but a little boy on the wagon."
"Well, maybe it's the junkman's little boy," said the woman. "They let them drive when they go in after the junk. Run after him, Jane, and stop him. I want to get the trash cleaned out of the cellar."
So the cook ran quickly to the front door and cried:
"Hey! Junk boy! Stop! We got some papers for you!"
Mun Bun heard, and turned around.
"I isn't the junkman," he said. "I'm just havin' a ride!"
"We have some old papers for you," called the cook.
Mun Bun didn't know just what it all meant, but he saw the cook waving her hand at him, and he heard her calling, though he could not make out all the words, because the wagon rattled so. But Mun Bun had an idea.
"I guess maybe she wants a ride," he said. "She likes to ride same as I do. I'll give her a ride with me."
He pulled on the reins, and called:
"Whoa!"
But either Mun Bun did not pull hard enough, or he did not call loudly enough, for the horse did not stop. Perhaps it thought that if it did stop it would be too hard work to start again, so it kept on going.
"Stop! Stop!" cried the cook. "We have some papers to sell you!"
"Whoa!" called Mun Bun again. But the horse did not stop.
Just then a policeman came down the street. He saw Mun Bun on the seat of the wagon, and he saw the cook waving at him and calling. And the policeman needed to take only one look to make him feel sure that Mun Bunwas not the junkman's little boy driving the wagon. Mun Bun was not dressed as a junkman's little boy would probably be dressed.
"That's funny," said the policeman to himself. "I must see about this." He walked toward the wagon. By this time the cook had come out on the sidewalk. She knew the policeman.
"Stop him!" she called, pointing to the wagon. "Stop that junkman!"
"That isn't a junkman," said the officer.
"Well, stop that junk boy then, Mr. Mulligan," begged the cook, smiling at the policeman.
"Nor yet it isn't a junk boy," said the officer. "He doesn't belong on that wagon."
"Do you mean to say he stole it?" asked the cook. "Mrs. Rynsler has some junk she wants to get out of the cellar, and——"
"This boy'll never take it," said Mr. Mulligan, the policeman. "In the first place he's too little, and in the second place he isn't a junk boy. I must see about this," and, hurrying along for a little distance, then walking out to the curb, he reached out his hand and stopped the horse. It was not hardwork. The bony horse was ready to stop almost any time.
"Whoa!" said the policeman.
"Whoa!" echoed Mun Bun, and he smiled at the officer.
"Where are you going?" asked Mr. Mulligan.
"I'm having a ride," said Mun Bun. "The junkman is at my Aunt Jo's house, and I got up on the seat and I'm having a ride!"
"Land love us! And look at the size of him!" murmured the cook, who had followed the policeman.
"He is little," said the policeman. "But you'd better get down, my little man. You might fall off."
"I had a nice ride, anyhow," said Mun Bun, as the policeman lifted him down from the wagon.
"But now I've got to find out where you live, and who owns this rig," went on the officer.
"The idea of him drivin' off with it all alone—the likes of him!" murmured the wondering cook.
"Oh, he's a smart little chap!" said the policeman, smiling at Mun Bun. "But, unless I'm mistaken, here comes the real junkman. He looks worried, too."
Around the corner of the street came the man who had been talking to William in Aunt Jo's yard. He was running hard, and his hat had fallen off.
"My horse! My wagon!" he cried. "Somebody ran away with them!"
"No, they didn't, Ike!" said the policeman, who had seen the junk collector before. "Your horse just walked away with this boy, and it's lucky the little chap didn't fall off the seat. Get on now, and drive back where you came from. Where does this boy belong?"
"How should I know?" asked the junkman. "I never saw him before."
"Well, he must have got on the wagon at the last place you stopped," said the officer. "Where was that?"
"Oh, sure! I know what you mean!" exclaimed the junkman. "I know the lady's house. Her automobile man often sells me old papers. I can tell you," and he did, mentioning Aunt Jo's house.
"I'll just take the boy back," said the policeman.
His hand in that of the big policeman, Mun Bun went back gladly enough, and just in time, too, for his mother, looking out and "counting noses" had not seen him with the other children, and, fearing he had wandered away, she was just starting out to look for him.
"Where have you been?" she cried, as she saw Mun Bun with a policeman.
"Oh, I had a nice ride," answered the little boy.
"He was on the junk wagon," Mr. Mulligan explained.
"Oh, ho! So it was you who ran with Ike's rig, was it?" asked William. "Well, well! He was frightened when he didn't see his horse out in front where he had left it. How do you like the junk business, Mun Bun?"
"I like the horse, and I did drive him, I did!" said the little fellow proudly.
"Well, don't do it again," sighed Mrs. Bunker.
"No'm, I won't!" promised Mun Bun.
The six little Bunkers always promised this whenever they did anything they ought not to have done. But the trouble was that they did something different the next time, and not the same thing they were told not to do.
"I wish I'd had a ride with you," said Margy, as her little brother, after the policeman had gone, told what had happened.
"Well, I don't!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker.
So Mun Bun got safely back home again, and the rest of the day his mother saw to it that he played in the yard and around the house with his brothers and sisters.
"Did anybody ever come for the pocketbook and the sixty-five dollars?" asked Rose one day, after breakfast, when the six little Bunkers were wondering what to do to have fun.
"No, we haven't yet found an owner," said her father. "But there is time enough yet."
"And you didn't find my doll that the balloons took away, did you?"
"Not yet, Rose. I'm afraid Lily is gone forever," answered her mother. "Some day I'll get you a new doll."
"Yes; but she wouldn't be Lily," said Rose, and she felt quite bad about what had happened.
Out in the yard went the children to play. Russ was making what he said was going to be a kite, and Laddie and Violet were playing in the sand. Rose was watching Parker bake a cake and Margy and Mun Bun walked up and down the porch, pulling two little rubber dolls in a thread box, which they pretended was a big automobile.
Pretty soon, down the street came a two-wheeled cart, pushed by a man who had gold rings in his ears, and the cart made a cheerful whistling sound.
"Oh, listen!" cried Mun Bun.
"It's like a choo-choo car!" said Margy.
"Let's go and look at it!" cried Mun Bun.
"All right," agreed his sister.
Leaving the thread-box automobile and the two little dolls on the porch, the two small children ran down to the front gate to look at the whistling wagon.
"Doesn't it make a nice noise?" asked Mun Bun of Margy.
"Terrible nice," agreed the little girl. "What makes it?"
Mun Bun looked at the whistling wagon. It was, as I have said, a two-wheeled cart, and was pushed by a man who had gold rings in his ears. His face was very dark, too, but he smiled pleasantly at the children.
"It's a teakettle, that's what makes it," said Mun Bun, as he looked. "See the steam coming out, just like it does out of the kettle in Parker's kitchen," and he pointed to something on one end of the cart.
This something looked like a little stove, and the children could see the glow of fire in one end of it. And, as Mun Bun had said, steam was coming from what seemed to be a spout.
"The steam whistles," said Mun Bun.
"Yes," agreed Margy. "I like it!"
The steam did make a shrill whistling sound.
The wagon was out in front of Aunt Jo's house now, and suddenly Mun Bun sniffed the air. He smelled something good.
"Oh, I know what it is!" he cried. "It's peanuts! The man is roasting peanuts and they whistles to tell him they're done. Don't you 'member, down at the corner by Daddy's office, home, there's a man an' he sells peanuts and they whistles."
"Oh, yes!" said Margy. "I 'members! I likes peanuts, too!"
"So do I!" said Mun Bun.
The man with the gold rings in his ears was stopping in front of Aunt Jo's house now. He smiled at the children, while the steam from the hot peanut-roaster made a louder whistling sound, and the man yelled:
"Hot peanuts, five cents a bag!"
"Oh, I wish we had some!" sighed Mun Bun.
"So do I," added his sister. "Have you five cents, Mun Bun?"
"Nope! Has you five cents, Margy?"
"No."
Mun Bun thought for a few seconds while the smiling Italian man, with the whistling wagon, looked at the two little Bunkers hanging on Aunt Jo's gate.
"Please go 'way!" said Mun Bun. "We hasn't got any five cents for your hot peanuts."
"No gotta five cents?" asked the Italian.
"No," and Mun Bun shook his head.
"An' we like peanuts," added Margy. "If you've any left over you could give us some."
"Hot peanuts—five a bag!" said the peddler in a sort of sing-song voice.
"Please go 'way!" begged Mun Bun again. "They smells awful good, but we hasn't got any five centies!"
"Maybe you go in th' house, li'l' boy, you get money," the Italian went on.
Margy looked at Mun Bun and Mun Bun looked at Margy.
"Oh, maybe we could!" exclaimed the little girl eagerly. "Let's go an' ask, Mun Bun!"
"All right!" said he. "We will!"
And they did. Into the room where AuntJo and Mother Bunker were sewing burst the two children, out of breath from their run up the gravel drive.
"Oh, Mother!" cried Mun Bun. "He wants five cents."
"An' he's got a whistlin' wagon!" added Margy.
"An' they smell awful good!" went on her brother.
"Come an' hear the whistle," begged the little girl.
"My goodness me!" cried Aunt Jo. "What is this all about?"
"It's hot peanuts—five a bag!" answered Mun Bun, in a sing-song voice almost like the Italian's.
"But we haven't the five cents," added Margy. "An' we want some peanuts."
"Well, I think you may have some," said Mrs. Bunker. "I'll come down to the whistling wagon with you and see about it."
Margy and Mun Bun led her down to the front gate, where the peanut man, still smiling, was waiting. The hot oven on his wagon, in which he roasted the peanuts, was still whistling. Afterward Daddy Bunkertold the children that the steam came out and made the whistling sound by puffing itself through a tin thing with holes in it, just as a boy blows his breath through the same kind of tin thing to make a whistle.
"And the reason the Italian puts water in the top of his peanut-roaster is so that the peanuts in the bags, where he puts them to keep warm, will not burn," the father of the six little Bunkers told them. "The whistling is like the bell the old-fashioned ice-cream man used to ring. People hear it and come to buy, just as you did."
Mrs. Bunker found the Italian's peanuts fresh and nicely browned and roasted, and she bought enough for all the children.
"You have to thank Margy and Mun Bun for them," she said to Russ, Rose and the twins. "They first heard the whistling wagon and ran out to see what it was."
The children had a sort of little play-party with the peanuts, though Laddie stuffed some of his in his pocket.
"I'm going to save 'em," he said.
"What for?" asked Russ, who had his kite partly finished.
"Oh, maybe I'll see an elephant in a circus parade," the little boy answered.
"Circus parades never come up in our Back Bay section," said Aunt Jo with a smile. "So I don't believe you'll see an elephant, Laddie."
"Oh, well, then I can eat the peanuts myself," he returned. "But maybe I might see a squirrel."
"Yes, we have some of them in our parks," went on Aunt Jo. "And I have seen them so tame that they would come up and take a nut from your fingers. Some day we'll go to the park and look for the little fellows. But I'm afraid you won't have any peanuts left then, Laddie."
"Well, we can get some more," said the little boy with a laugh.
It was a little later that same afternoon, when Rose, who was out on the porch, getting her doll dressed for supper, as she said, came running in, looking very much excited.
"Well, what is it now?" asked her mother. "Has Mun Bun or any of the others, ridden off on a junk wagon?"
"Oh, no," answered the little girl. "But Laddie went off down the street with his peanuts in his pocket, and now he's come back and he has a funny riddle."
"A funny riddle!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. "What do you mean? Is it a riddle about the peanuts?"
"I don't know," answered Rose. "But Laddie has something hid under his coat, and he asked me to guess what it was, so it must be a riddle. And it makes a funny squeaking noise."
"My goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. "I must see what Laddie's riddle is this time!"
Out on the porch Mrs. Bunker found her six children, for Rose had followed her mother out of the house, finally running ahead of her to see if any one had yet guessed Laddie's latest riddle.
"What have you there, Sonny?" asked Laddie's mother, as she saw him standing in front of Russ, Rose and the others, with something under his coat.
"He says it's a riddle," explained Russ.
"It is, sort of!" declared Laddie. "Yet 'tisn't zactly a riddle. I just told 'em to guess what I had under my coat."
"Where'd you get it?" asked Aunt Jo, who came out to see what the fun was about.
"I got it with the peanuts I had in my pocket," the little boy answered.
"Oh, then it's a squirrel!" guessed Rose.
"No, it isn't a squirrel," said Laddie, shaking his head.
"It's got a tail! I can see it!" cried Vi, as she stooped down and looked under her brother's coat. "I can see it sticking out. It's brown."
"Yes, it's got a tail," admitted Laddie.
"Is it a kite?" asked Russ, for he had not yet finished the one he was making.
"Nope! 'Tisn't a kite!" Laddie answered. "It's alive, and kites aren't that way!"
"They wiggle around as if they were alive, sometimes," said Rose.
"Oh, I heard it squeak!" cried Mun Bun. "Is it a little kittie?"
Again Laddie shook his head.
"Nope," he answered, "'tisn't a kittie. But it's got fur on. Now I'll give you each one more guess for my riddle, and——"
But Laddie's "riddle" seemed to think the fun had gone on long enough, and it didn't want to be guessed about any more. All at once the little boy began to wiggle and try to hold something still beneath his coat—something which seemed very much alive indeed.
"Oh! Oh! Oh, dear!" cried Laddie, but he was laughing.
"What's the matter?" asked his mother.
"It—it'sticklingme!" he exclaimed. "Oh—there it is!"
As he spoke a funny little wrinkled black face, followed by a little brown furry body and a long tail, scrambled out from under Laddie's buttoned coat and sat on his shoulder.
"Oh, look!" cried Rose.
"It's a black pussy with a long tail!" cried Violet.
"No, it isn't!" Russ exclaimed. "It's a monkey! That's what it is! A monkey!"
"A monkey!" repeated Mrs. Bunker. "Why, so it is. Oh, Laddie boy! where did you get a monkey?"
Laddie put up his hand to stroke the funny little creature, which seemed to like it, crouching down on Laddie's shoulder and nestling close to him. The monkey was not much larger than a cat.
"Where'd you get it?" repeated the children's mother.
"Have they got any more? Can I getone?" cried Russ. "I'll go and find some peanuts!"
"Don't let him wind his tail on me!" begged Mun Bun, hiding behind his mother's skirts.
"Can he play a hand-organ?" asked Violet.
The children were laughing so hard, and asking so many questions as they crowded around Laddie, that their mother exclaimed:
"Oh, my dear six little Bunkers! please be quiet a minute until I can hear what Laddie has to say. Tell us where you got such a cute little riddle!"
"I got him with peanuts," Laddie said. "He was up in a tree and I saw him, and I held out some peanuts in my hand and he came down and sat on my shoulder and ate 'em and then I put him under my coat and he liked it and I brought him home."
"But where did you find him?" asked Aunt Jo. "In what tree?"
"Oh, just down by the corner at the end of this street," answered Laddie with a wave of his hand.
"Mercy," gasped Aunt Jo, "are monkeys beginning to make their homes in the treesof the Boston streets?" and she and Mother Bunker laughed.
"But was he up a tree?" asked Russ.
"Yes, he was," Laddie went on. "First I thought it was a cat, but when I saw him hang by his tail I knew it wasn't a cat."
"Oh, we're finding lots of things!" cried Rose. "I found a pocketbook, and now Laddie finds a monkey."
"And I'm going to keep it and get a hand-organ and then I'm going around and take in pennies," said the little boy, on whose shoulder the monkey was still perched, looking here and there at the other children, and wrinkling up his funny black face.
"I know where it came from," said Russ, after thinking a moment.
"Where?" asked Vi. "Do you mean out of a circus?"
"No," answered Russ. "But it must have got away from a hand-organ man."
"I think that's just what happened," said Aunt Jo. "Hand-organ men, with monkeys fast to the ends of long strings, often come up this way, and play what they call music, and they let the funny little animals go afterthe pennies. One of these Italians must have been around here with his music-machine, and his monkey must have run away from him and hidden up in a tree where you saw him, Laddie."
"But I found him, and he's mine. I want to keep him," said the little boy. "He's awful soft and fuzzy, and he likes me."
Indeed the monkey was a nice, clean little chap, and he seemed to like Laddie. And he seemed to like to have the other children pet him, also. He wore a funny little red jacket and a green cap, and every now and then he would take off his cap and hold it out, as he had been taught to do, for pennies.
Mun Bun, who had been afraid the monkey would wind its long tail around him, came out from behind his mother's skirts, and even dared to pet Laddie's "riddle," as they called it.
"He's awful nice!" said Mun Bun.
"He'd make a lovely doll," observed Rose. "I wish I had a doll that was alive."
"I'll let you play with him sometimes," promised Laddie. "I'm going to call him. 'Peanuts' 'cause he likes 'em so."
"Well, that would be a nice name for a monkey," said Mrs. Bunker. "But don't get your heart set on keeping this one, Laddie."
"Why not, Mother? Can't I have him?"
"I'm afraid not. In the first place Aunt Jo has no place in her Boston home for a monkey, and, in the second place, Alexis, the big dog, might bark at Peanuts and scare him."
Alexis was not there just then, or he would have seen the monkey, and surely would have barked, as he always did when he saw anything new or strange.
"Another reason why you can't keep him," said Mother Bunker, "is that the Italian hand-organ grinder will want his monkey himself. That is how he makes his living—by having the monkey collect pennies for him."
"But can I keep him until the organ man comes?" asked Laddie, as he cuddled his "riddle" in his arms.
"Oh, yes, I guess you can keep him until then," said Mrs. Bunker. "We couldn't turn the poor little monkey loose, anyhow, or dogs would chase him. We'll see what your father says when he comes home."
"And we can have some fun now, with Peanuts," added Russ. "We can tie a string to his collar and make-believe we have a circus."
"Maybe he'll bite," said Margy.
"He didn't bite me," Laddie explained, "and I carried him under my coat from down the street. He tickled me though, when he wanted to get out."
Mrs. Bunker and Aunt Jo said the children could play with the monkey awhile on the side porch, fastening it by a string attached to the collar around its neck, so it could not get away.
"The Italian may be along pretty soon looking for it," said William, the chauffeur, who had been called from the garage to see Laddie's new pet.
"Peanuts," as the six little Bunkers called the monkey, seemed to enjoy being with them. He climbed about the porch, and came down when they held out in their hands bread, bits of crackers or cake, which the monkey liked to eat.
The children were having lots of fun with their funny little pet, and they were talkingover and over again their wish that they might keep him, when, from out in front, came the sound of a hand-organ. It played rather a sad and doleful tune, and, at the sound of it, the monkey seemed to prick up his ears, much as a dog might do.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Rose. "Maybe that's the hand-organ man that owns this monkey."
"If it is I'd better see about it," said Aunt Jo. "I want you children to have all the fun you can, but we don't want to keep a poor man's monkey, any more than we do the poor woman's purse, though she hasn't come for that yet."
William, the chauffeur, who also heard the hand-organ tune, went out in front, and came back to tell Aunt Jo that the Italian had indeed lost his monkey, and was looking everywhere for it.
"Tell him to come in," said Miss Bunker.
And a little later, walking along and grinding out the doleful tune, the Italian came into the yard.
"Isthis your monkey?" asked Aunt Jo, pointing to the one that Laddie had coaxed down out of the tree with peanuts.
"Oh, Petro! Petro!" cried the Italian, leaning his hand-organ up against a tree and rushing to the porch. "Ah, Petro! I have found you again, my baby!" and he held out his arms. The monkey made a jump for them, and sat up on the man's shoulder, chattering and taking off and putting on his green cap so often that, as Russ said, he looked like a moving picture.
"Ah, Petro! Petro!" cried the hand-organ man, and then he began to talk to the monkey in Italian, which the little creature seemed to understand, for he chattered back, though of course he spoke monkey talk, or, maybe, jungle talk.
"Is that your animal?" asked William.
"Sure, he mine!" exclaimed the Italian. "His name Petro! I make-a de music down de street, an' a big dog chase after Petro! He break-a de string an' jump oop de tree. I no can find! Now I have him back! Ah, my Petro!"
"Well, the children will be sorry to lose their pet," said Aunt Jo, "but I'm glad you have him back."
"I glad. Vera mooch-a glad, too!" saidthe Italian, taking off his hat, and bowing to Aunt Jo and Mrs. Bunker. "Petro bring me in pennies. I play for you, but I no want-a pennies. No take pennies—you find my Petro."
"This little boy found him," said William, pointing to Laddie.
"I gave him peanuts," said Laddie. "He was up a tree."
"Mooch 'bliged," said the Italian. "I make-a de music for you. Petro do tricks."
Then he fastened the long cord he had in his pocket to Petro's collar, and began to grind out what he called "music." He also made the monkey do several tricks, such as turning somersaults or climbing trees and jumping from one branch to another.
Then, with more thanks, and promising to come and play again for them, and not to let Petro take any pennies, the Italian went on his way with the monkey and the hand-organ.
Laddie and the others were sorry to lose their pet, but, as Daddy Bunker said afterward, the monkey and Alexis might not have been good friends.
"Well, I found a monkey, and somebodycame for it," said Laddie that night. "But nobody has come for the pocketbook yet."
"And, if they don't, I'm going to have the money," said Rose. "Anyhow, I can have some of it, daddy says. And I'm going to buy a pair of new roller skates, 'cause my old ones are 'most worn out."
However, Rose could still skate on them, and speaking of them as she did, made her think of them the next day. So, when she had put her dolls to "sleep," the little girl went out roller-skating on the sidewalk in front of Aunt Jo's house.
Rose had not been skating long before her mother heard her crying.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" Rose was saying.
"What's the matter?" asked her mother, hurrying out to the porch. "Did you fall and hurt yourself, Rose, my dear?"