"Whoa! Whoa there, ponies!" cried Grandpa Ford, as he jumped off the seat and held tightly to the reins. "Whoa!"
Grandpa's horses were kind and gentle and well-trained. They did not try to run away, but stood still after the sled was upset in the snow bank.
Russ was one of the first to get to his feet. He rolled out of the drift, shook himself as a dog does coming out of the water, and then looked about him.
"See if the others are all right!" called his grandfather to him. "I'll hold the horses. Get out Margy and Mun Bun and the others."
Russ, though not very big, was a sturdy young chap, and, seeing Mun Bun's legs sticking out from under a pile of blankets, hepulled on them. And, as Mun Bun was still fast to his legs, when Russ pulled on them he pulled his little brother out into view.
"Hi! Quit that! What you doin'?" Mun Bun wanted to know.
"I had to get you out," said Russ. "Where's Margy?"
Margy did not answer in words, but she did by crawling out from where she had been sitting next to Mun Bun.
Then out came Laddie, Vi and Rose, and all the six little Bunkers were accounted for.
"That drift was deeper than I thought it was," said Grandpa Ford. "The sled went up one side of it and just toppled over. It spilled you all out nice and easy."
And that is just what had happened. The sled had gone over on one side so slowly and gently that no one was caught under it. The six little Bunkers had been toppled out, still wrapped in the blankets in which they had ridden from Great Hedge.
"What are we going to do?" asked Russ. "How are we going to get home, Grandpa?"
"Well, I'll see about that in just a minute," answered Grandpa Ford. "I don't believeanything is broken. But I'll have to get help to lift the sled right side up again. Whoa, now, ponies!"
The horses, which Grandpa Ford called "ponies," just for fun, were turning to look at the overturned sled. The six little Bunkers stood in a row, also looking at what had happened.
"It wasn't the ponies' fault, was it, Grandpa?" asked Violet.
"No, dear. It was mine. I shouldn't have driven them into the bank of snow. But I thought it was soft so the sled runners would sink down in it. However, it was hard, and upset us. But we'll soon be all right. Whoa, now, ponies!"
The big basket of things Grandpa Ford had bought at the store for his wife had been spilled out of the sled when the upset came. However, nothing was damaged, and the children helped him pick up the scattered things, while Russ held the horses.
The animals had not fallen down when the sled upset, and were not tangled in the harness, so they did not try to run away. The reason for this was that the front runnerof the sled, to which was fastened the tongue, or long pole, on either side of which the horses ran—the front runner, I say, remained straight on the ground. The sled seemed to have broken off from this front part in turning on its side.
"Yes, it's broken," said Grandpa Ford as he looked at the sled. "I shall have to get it mended before I can drive home again. It's too bad, but I'm glad none of you is hurt."
He let Russ hold the horses, which stood very still, and the small boy was very proud of having charge of the animals. Down the road stood a small house, which looked something like a log cabin.
"Could you get the sled fixed there, Grandpa Ford?" asked Russ, pointing to the cabin.
"No, I hardly think so. I need to go to a blacksmith shop for a bolt to use in place of one that is broken. But I know what I can do. I can leave you children in the cabin until I come back."
"Leave us there all alone?" asked Rose.
"Oh, no," replied Grandpa Ford. "Mr. andMrs. Thompson live there. I'll leave you with Mrs. Thompson. She is very good and kind. She'll look after you. I'll get Mr. Thompson to help me turn the sled right side up, and then I'll go to the blacksmith shop and get a new bolt in place of the broken one."
"Will you have to walk?" asked Russ.
"No, I'll ride one of the horses."
"Oh! Could I ride the other?" begged Laddie eagerly.
"I'm afraid you're too little," said Grandpa Ford. "Besides, I want to ride fast on the back of Major. And if you rode on Prince, which is the other horse, he might jiggle you off into a snow bank.
"I think all you six little Bunkers had better stay at Mr. Thompson's cabin until I come back," went on Grandpa Ford. "I won't be any longer than I can help, and when I get the sled fixed we'll all ride home. I won't make my trip to the country as I was going to, as it will be too late."
"Can we get something to eat at the cabin?" asked Margy. "I'm hungry."
"Oh, I guess Mrs. Thompson has something to eat," laughed Grandpa Ford.
Grandpa unhitched the horses from the overturned sled and then started to drive them toward the cabin, which was the only house for some distance on that road. The six little Bunkers followed, the highway being well-packed with hard snow, so that walking was easy.
As the procession, led by Grandpa Ford driving the horses, approached the cabin, a door opened and a man came out.
"Had an accident, did you, Mr. Ford?" he asked.
"Yes," answered the children's grandfather. "My sled upset in a drift and spilled out my six little Bunkers. I also broke a bolt, and I shall have to ride to the blacksmith shop to get another. I was wondering if the children couldn't wait in your house until I came back."
"Of course they may!" exclaimed a motherly-looking woman, coming to the door behind her husband. "Bring them in, every one, and I'll give them some bread and milk. I have cookies, too, for I just baked to-day."
"I'm glad of that!" exclaimed Laddie, and the grown folks laughed at him because he said it so earnestly.
"Come right in!" went on Mrs. Thompson. "Are you cold?"
"Not very, thank you," answered Rose. "We had lots of blankets in the sled, and we didn't get much snow on us."
"Well, sit up by the fire, and I'll get you something to eat," said Mrs. Thompson.
"I'll put one of your horses in the stable while you ride to the blacksmith shop on the other," said Mr. Thompson, putting on his hat and overcoat, to go out where Grandpa Ford was waiting.
"Now, you'll be all right, little Bunkers!" called their grandfather to them, as he started away on the back of Major, who had been unharnessed. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
Mr. Thompson took Prince to his stable. There was a small one back of the cabin. I have called it a "cabin," though it really was a small house. But it was built like a log cabin, and was much smaller than the house at Great Hedge. It was clean and neat, and on a table covered with a bright redcloth, in front of a glowing fire in the stove, Mrs. Thompson set out some cups, some milk, a plate of bread and some cookies.
"Now come and eat," she said to the six little Bunkers.
They were just drawing up their chairs, and Russ was wondering how long his grandfather would be gone, when, all at once, a hollow groan sounded through the cabin.
"Umph! Urr-rumph!"
It was a most sorrowful and sad sound and, hearing it, Rose cried:
"Why, there's the ghost again! Oh, it's come from Great Hedge down to this house! There's the ghost!"
Again the hollow groan sounded.
Russ, who was about to take a bite out of a cookie that Mrs. Thompson had given him, stopped with the piece half-way to his mouth. He looked at Rose with wide-open eyes.
The other little Bunkers also looked at their sister, who had left her chair and was standing in the middle of the room.
"What did you say, my dear?" asked Mrs. Thompson.
Before Rose could answer again came a queer, hollow, groaning noise, that sounded, the children said afterward, "as if a sick bear had hidden down the cellar and couldn't get out."
Just what sort of noise a sick bear makes I don't know, for I never heard one. But this noise at any rate, must have been very strange.
"Umph! Umph! Urr-rumph!" it went.
"There it is!" cried Rose. "That's the ghost! It sounds just like the noise at Great Hedge, doesn't it, Russ?"
"It—it sounds something like it," Russ had to admit. "But there isn't a ghost—Daddy said so."
"A ghost, child! I should say not!" cried Mrs. Thompson. "Of course there is no such thing."
"But what makes the sound?" asked Russ. "Don't you hear it?"
"I hear it!" exclaimed Laddie.
"So do I," said Violet.
Mun Bun and Margy probably heard it, also, but they were too busy finishing their bread and milk to say anything. Probably they knew that Russ and Rose, who always looked after them, would take care of the strange noise.
"Oh,thatnoise!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson, as once more the hollow groan sounded, throughout the house. "You weren't afraid of that, were you?" And her eyes began to twinkle, then she laughed.
"A—a little," admitted Rose.
"It sounds like the cur'us noise at Great Hedge," added Russ.
"Well, I didn't know you had a curious noise at your grandfather's place," went on Mrs. Thompson. "First I ever heard of it."
"Oh, yes, there's a ghost there, only it isn't a ghost 'cause there's no such thing! Daddy said so!" exclaimed Rose. "But we got——"
"We've got a funny noise there," said Russ, breaking in on what his sister was saying. "It sounds like your noise, too."
"Well, there's nothing so very curious about this noise," laughed Mrs. Thompson. "That's only my husband playing on the big horn he used to blow when he was in the band. He hasn't used it much for years, and can't blow it as well as he used to. But that's what the noise is. Every once in a while he takes a notion and goes up into the attic and blows on the horn. I imagine he did it this time to amuse you children. I'll ask him.
"Jabez!" she called up the stairs that led to the small second story of the house. "Jabez! Is that you blowing the old bass horn?"
"Yes, Sarah, that's me," was the answer.
"Only I can't seem to blow it just right. Something appears to have got stopped up in the horn, or else maybe it's frozen. It doesn't blow like it used to."
"I should think it didn't!" laughed his wife. "Stop your tooting, and bring the horn down where the children can see it. Some of 'em thought it was a ghost, such as they have at Great Hedge. Did you ever hear of a ghost there?"
"Oh, I've heard some talk of it," answered Mr. Thompson, and now the six little Bunkers could hear him coming downstairs. He seemed to be carrying something large and heavy.
"Why didn't you tell me about it?" asked his wife. "I like ghost stories."
"Oh, this isn't really a ghost," quickly explained Rose. "It's just a queer, groaning sound, and it comes in the middle of the night sometimes, and my daddy and grandpa can't find out what it is."
"Maybe it was Mr. Thompson blowing his horn," suggested Russ. "It sounded like that."
"Well, I'm sorry my playing sounds as badas that," laughed Mr. Thompson, and then he came into the room where the children were, carrying a large brass horn, the kind that play the bass, or heavy, notes in a band. Putting his lips to the mouthpiece Mr. Thompson made the same "umph-umph!" sound that had so startled the children at first.
"Does that sound like the ghost?" he asked Russ.
"Just like it, only louder," was the answer.
"I wonder what it can be at Great Hedge," said Mrs. Thompson. "I should think it would scare you dreadfully," she went on.
"Why, no," answered Rose. "But we want to find out what it is. So does my daddy and Grandpa Ford. We're going to help him, Russ and I, only every time we hear a funny noise it turns out to be Mun Bun falling out of bed, or an alarm clock beating a drum or something like that."
"Mercy sakes!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson. "You must have great goings-on at Great Hedge!" She laughed when Russ and Rose told her of the different queer noises, each one turning out to be something that was only funny and easily explainable.
"Well, I'm sorry I startled you," said Mr. Thompson. "I sometimes take a notion to go off by myself and blow the old horn as I used to in the band when I belonged to it years ago. That wasn't here; it was in another village. But I had no idea I sounded like a ghost."
"Oh, it—it sounded nice after we knew what it was," said Rose, thinking Mr. Thompson's feelings might be hurt if they said they didn't like his horn.
"Well, I'll not blow it again while you're here," he said. "And now, unless I'm mistaken, I think I see your grandfather coming back. He'll soon have the sled fixed."
The six little Bunkers rushed to the window and saw Grandpa Ford riding down the road on the back of Major. Prince had been left in Mr. Thompson's barn. In a little while Russ and Rose were telling their grandfather about the queer noise of the bass horn.
"I never heard you had a ghost at Great Hedge," said Mrs. Thompson to Grandpa Ford.
"Well, I call it a ghost for want of a better name," he replied. "It's just a noise, and I thought we would find out what it was before this, but we haven't. However, we don't worry about it. What do you think of my six little Bunkers?"
"I love them—each and every one," said Mrs. Thompson. "Let them come over and see me again."
"I will," promised Grandpa Ford.
"And I promise I won't play the horn for you," added Mr. Thompson, laughing.
He helped Mr. Ford fix the big sled, and soon it had been turned right side up, the horses were again hitched to it, and the children, after bidding their new friends good-bye, got in, and away they drove again, the merry bells jingling.
"Well, I wish we could find out what the queer noise is here at Great Hedge as easily as you children found out what the one was at the cabin," said Grandma Ford, when Russ and Rose and Laddie and Vi, by turns, had told her what had happened when Mr. Thompson blew his horn.
"Did the ghost sound while I was away?" asked Grandpa Ford.
"Yes, and louder than ever," said Mother Bunker. "We looked all over, but we couldn't find out what made the sound."
"Maybe it was Santa Claus," said Violet. "He's coming here, and maybe he's trying the chimney to see if it fits him."
"We thought of that before," said Rose. "But the noise sounded long before Santa Claus comes around. I'm sure it couldn't be him."
"But he's coming, anyhow," said Violet. "Grandpa said so, and I hope he brings me a new cradle for my doll."
"I want a new pair of skates," said Russ. "Mine are getting too small."
"I want a ship I can sail in the Summer, and a bigger sled," came from Laddie.
And so the children began to talk about Christmas, and what they wanted Santa Claus to bring them.
The weather was now cold and blowy and blustery, with a snowstorm nearly every day. But the six little Bunkers went out often to play, even if it was cold. They had lots of fun.
Now and again the queer noise wouldsound, but, though each time the grown folks went to look for it, they could not find it. It seemed to sound all through the house, almost like the blowing of Mr. Thompson's horn, only not so loud.
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Grandpa Ford after one night's search, when nothing had been found, "this surely is a mystery!"
"I could make a riddle about it, only I'd never know the answer," said Laddie. "And a riddle without an answer is no good."
"That's very true!" said his grandfather, laughing.
The days passed. Christmas came nearer and nearer. There was to be a tree at Great Hedge, and the children were also going to hang up their stockings. Grandpa Ford and Daddy Bunker went out into the woods and cut the tree, which was placed in the parlor, and the doors shut.
"It wouldn't do for any of you to go in there from now on," said Mrs. Bunker. "You might surprise Santa Claus, and he doesn't like to be surprised."
Finally came Christmas Eve. The children listened to the reading of Bible stories as theysat before the fire, and then went early to bed so "morning would come quicker."
But, in spite of the fact that they wanted to go to sleep, it was some time before the older ones dropped off into Slumberland. Then, in the middle of the night, it seemed, there sounded throughout the house the sound of a horn being blown.
"Oh! Oh!" exclaimed Rose, suddenly awakening and sitting up in bed. "Is that—is that the——"
"It's the horn of Santa Claus!" cried Mrs. Bunker. "Wake up! It's Christmas morning!"
And so it was.
"Merry Christmas!" called the six little Bunkers.
"Merry Christmas!" answered Grandpa and Grandma Ford and Daddy and Mother Bunker. "Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!" called Dick as he tramped in from the barn, all covered with snow.
And such a jolly Christmas as it was! If each of the six little Bunkers did not get exactly what he or she wanted, all got something just as good.
There were toys, dolls, sleds, games and picture books. There was a magic lantern for Russ—something he had long wanted. There was a toy airship, that could be wound up and would fly, for Laddie. This he had wished for many times.
And the grown folks were not forgotten. There were fur-lined slippers for both Grandpa and Grandma Ford, a gold pin for Mother Bunker, and a new shaving set for Daddy Bunker. Dick had some new neckties, a pipe, and a pair of rubber boots.
"Just what I wanted!" he exclaimed.
And I wish you could have seen the Christmas tree! It was a beautiful one, and covered with colored balls that sparkled red, green, blue, and yellow in the candle light. It was wonderful!
"I wish I could try my new skates," said Russ. But this was a vain wish, as the ice on the pond, as well as the ground, was covered with snow.
"But we can have lots more rides now, 'cause I got my big new sled, and you can all take turns on it," said Laddie. "And, oh, I've thought of a new riddle!" he cried. "Why would your dress be good to go fishing with, Mother?" he asked.
"Why would my dress be good to go fishing with?" repeated Mrs. Bunker. "It wouldn't, Laddie. I wouldn't want to soil my nice dress by going fishing in it."
"Anyhow, what's that got to do with your new sled?" asked Russ.
"Nothing," answered Laddie. "Only I just happened to think of this riddle. Why would Mother's dress be good to go fishing with?"
"Well, why would it?" asked Grandma Ford. "I want to hear the answer, because I have to go out into the kitchen and see about getting the dinner. Why would your mother's dress be good for fishing with, Laddie?"
"'Cause it's got hooks on," he answered with a laugh. "I heard her ask you to hook it up this morning. Isn't that a good riddle?"
"Very good," answered Grandma Ford. "Now see if you can think of one about roast chicken, as that's what we're going to have for dinner. Get good and hungry, all of you."
"Better go out into the air and play a while," suggested Daddy Bunker. "That will give you good, healthy appetites."
So the six little Bunkers went out to play. It was not very cold, but Grandpa Ford said it looked as though there would be more snow.
"Then we can make more snow men!"shouted Russ. "And maybe I'll make an ice boat, too, when the snow melts so we can go on the pond."
Out in the snow rushed the six little Bunkers, and they had fun playing near the big hedge which gave Grandpa Ford's place its name.
When the children were romping about, sliding down a little hill they made, and tumbling about in the snow, along came Mr. Thompson.
"Merry Christmas!" he called to Russ, Rose and the others.
"Merry Christmas!" they answered.
Mun Bun and Margy, who had been making a little snow man all by themselves, stopped their play and walked toward the house.
"Where are you going?" asked Russ.
"I'm going to ask Grandma for a cookie," explained Mun Bun. "I'm hungry."
"So'm I," added Margy.
"Don't eat before dinner," advised Rose. "Save your 'hungry' for the roast chicken."
And Grandma Ford told the little ones the same thing, but they insisted that theywanted a cookie each, so she gave them one apiece, but they were rather small.
"Because," said Grandma, "I want you to eat my nice, brown, roast chicken."
And Mun Bun and Margy did. For, when dinner time came, they had as good appetites as any of the others. Every one seemed to be hungry, and, for a while, the sound of the clatter of the knives, forks and plates was louder than the talk.
After dinner they sat about the open fire on the big hearth in the living-room, and cracked nuts. Or, rather, Grandpa Ford cracked them and the children ate them.
"Wouldn't it be funny," began Russ, "if we should——"
And, just then, there suddenly sounded throughout the house that strange, groaning sound.
"O-u-g-h-m!"
It seemed louder than ever, and, for a moment, every one was startled. Mun Bun and Margy ran to their mother.
"Come on!" called Grandpa Ford to Daddy Bunker. "We must find out what that noise is. It has been going on long enough, andnow to have it come when we are all so happy at Christmas time is too much! We must find where it is."
"Can't we help hunt?" asked Russ.
"Yes, let us, Mother, won't you?" added Rose.
"But what is it?" asked Laddie. "What makes the funny groaning noise?"
"Maybe Mr. Thompson is blowing his horn," said Vi.
The groaning noise kept up longer this time than ever before. Every few minutes it would echo through the house. Sometimes it sounded as though upstairs, and again down in the cellar.
"We'll try the attic," said Grandpa Ford.
He and Daddy Bunker went up there. Grandma Ford and Mother Bunker stayed in the sitting-room with Mun Bun and Margy.
"Come on!" called Russ to Rose. "Let's go and look."
Rose followed her brother.
"Want to come?" she asked Violet and Laddie.
"Yep," the twins said exactly together, just as twins should, I suppose.
Russ, Rose, Laddie and Vi walked slowly through the different downstairs rooms. In each one they listened. In some they could hear the noise more plainly than in others. Finally they came to the kitchen.
"It sounds plainer here," said Russ.
And, just then, the groan sounded so near at hand that Rose jumped and caught Russ by the arm.
"O-u-g-h-m!"
Again the groan sounded.
"It's over in there!" cried Laddie, pointing to a large storeroom opening out of the kitchen. The door of this room was open, and the noise, indeed, did seem to come from there.
"Let's go in!" suggested Russ, and he started toward it.
"Maybe you'd better call Grandpa and Daddy, and let them look," said Vi.
Just then Mother Bunker and Grandma Ford, followed by the two smallest children, came into the kitchen.
"Oh, we've found the ghost!" cried Rose to her mother. "It's in the storeroom! Listen!"
The two women listened. The groan sounded very plainly, and did seem to come from the room off the kitchen.
Grandma Ford walked in. All was quiet for a moment, and then the noise sounded again.
"I've found it!" cried Grandma Ford. "I've found the ghost at last!"
"What is it?" exclaimed Mother Bunker.
"I don't know exactly what makes it," said Grandma Ford; "but the noise comes out of this rain-water pipe under the window of the storeroom. We'll call Daddy Bunker and Grandpa Ford and have them look. But come in and listen, all of you."
With their mother the six little Bunkers went into the storeroom. Just as they entered the groan sounded loudly, and, as Grandma Ford said, it came from a rain-water pipe that ran slantingly under the window.
"That's the ghost!" cried Mother Bunker. "No wonder we couldn't find it. We never looked here before."
And when Daddy Bunker and Grandpa Ford came down out of the attic, where theyhad not been able to find the "ghost," though they heard the sound of it faintly there, they were told what the six little Bunkers had discovered with the help of Grandma Ford.
"Yes, the noise comes from the rain-water pipe," said Grandpa Ford, when he had looked and listened carefully.
"What makes it?" asked Daddy Bunker.
"Well, the pipe is broken, and partly filled with water from the rain or melted snow. There are also some dried leaves in the pipe. One end has sunk down and the wind blows across that and makes a hollow, groaning sound, just as you can make by blowing across the open mouth of a big, empty bottle. That was the ghost—the wind blowing across the broken water pipe."
"Yes, that is what made it," said Daddy Bunker, when he had taken a look and had listened again. "The sound comes loudest when the wind blows."
"The noise sounded, sometimes, when the wind didn't blow," said Grandpa Ford, as he took the pipe apart, "because of the dried leaves that were in it. The leaves became water-soaked, and were in a lump. Then,when this lump slid down it made a sort of choking sound like a pump that runs out of water. The wind blowing across the pipe, and the wet leaves sinking down, made the queer noises. I'm glad we've found out about them."
"But what made it blow all through the house?" asked Mother Bunker.
"Because there are rain-water pipes, or drain pipes, from the gutters on all sides of the house," explained her husband. "The pipes are connected, and the sound, starting in the broken pipe under the window in the storeroom, vibrated all around the house from the attic to the cellar. That ends the ghost, children."
And so it did, for when that pipe and some others were mended, and fastened together after being cleaned out, no more groans were heard. And so the "ghost" at Great Hedge was found to be nothing more than all ghosts are—something natural and simple.
"Now I can make a riddle about it," said Laddie. "I can ask why is a ghost like an umbrella?"
"Why is it?" asked Violet.
"'Cause it hid in a rain-water pipe. 'Course that isn't averygood riddle," admitted Laddie. "Maybe I'll think of a better one after a while."
"Well, it's good enough this time," laughed Grandpa Ford. "Now the ghost is 'laid,' as they call it, we'll have lots of fun at Great Hedge."
And so the children did. The Christmas holidays passed and New Year's came. The snow melted, and there was a chance for more skating and for rides in the ice boat. Russ kept his word and made one, but it upset more times than it sailed.
"I wonder what we'll do next Winter," said Rose, as she and Russ were sliding downhill one day.
"Summer comes before next Winter," he said. "Maybe we'll go visiting again."
And where the children went and what they did you may learn by reading the next volume of this series, to be called: "Six Little Bunkers at Uncle Fred's." He had a ranch out West and——
But there, I'll let you read the book for yourselves.
"Oh, but we're having lots of fun here," said Laddie that night, as he sat trying to think of a new riddle. "Lots of fun."
"And the best fun of all was finding the ghost that wasn't a ghost," said Russ.
And I think so myself. So, having been on many adventures with the six little Bunkers, we will leave them for a while.
Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book?Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?On thereverse sideof the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book.
Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete catalog.
Author of The Bobbsey Twins Books, The Bunny BrownSeries, The Blythe Girls Books, Etc.
Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding.Every Volume Complete in Itself.
Delightful stories for little boys and girls which sprung into immediate popularity. To know the six little Bunkers is to take them at once to your heart, they are so intensely human, so full of fun and cute sayings. Each story has a little plot of its own—one that can be easily followed—and all are written in Miss Hope's most entertaining manner. Clean, wholesome volumes which ought to be on the bookshelf of every child in the land.
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDMA BELL'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT AUNT JO'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COUSIN TOM'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDPA FORD'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT UNCLE FRED'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT CAPTAIN BEN'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COWBOY JACK'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT MAMMY JUNE'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT FARMER JOEL'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT MILLER NED'SSIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT INDIAN JOHN'S
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
Author of the Popular "Bobbsey Twins" Books, Etc
Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding.Every Volume Complete in Itself.
These stories are eagerly welcomed by the little folks from about five to ten years of age. Their eyes fairly dance with delight at the lively doings of inquisitive little Bunny Brown and his cunning, trustful sister Sue.
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUEBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON GRANDPA'S FARMBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE PLAYING CIRCUSBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CAMP-REST-A-WHILEBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT AUNT LU'S CITY HOMEBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE BIG WOODSBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON AN AUTO TOURBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR SHETLAND PONYBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE GIVING A SHOWBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CHRISTMAS TREE COVEBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE SUNNY SOUTHBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE KEEPING STOREBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR TRICK DOGBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT A SUGAR CAMPBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON THE ROLLING OCEANBUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON JACK FROST ISLAND
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers, NEW YORK
Author of "The Bunny Brown Series," Etc.
Durably Bound. Illustrated. Uniform Style of Binding.Every Volume Complete in Itself.
These books for boys and girls between the ages of three and ten stands among children and their parents of this generation where the books of Louisa May Alcott stood in former days. The haps and mishaps of this inimitable pair of twins, their many adventures and experiences are a source of keen delight to imaginative children everywhere.
THE BOBBSEY TWINSTHE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE COUNTRYTHE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE SEASHORETHE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SCHOOLTHE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SNOW LODGETHE BOBBSEY TWINS ON A HOUSEBOATTHE BOBBSEY TWINS AT MEADOW BROOKTHE BOBBSEY TWINS AT HOMETHE BOBBSEY TWINS IN A GREAT CITYTHE BOBBSEY TWINS ON BLUEBERRY ISLANDTHE BOBBSEY TWINS ON THE DEEP BLUE SEATHE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE GREAT WESTTHE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CEDAR CAMPTHE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE COUNTY FAIRTHE BOBBSEY TWINS CAMPING OUTTHE BOBBSEY TWINS AND BABY MAY
Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
Transcriber's Note:Obvious printer's punctuation errors have been repaired.