THE HAY SLIPPED OFF ALONG WITH THE SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AND ADAM.

Six Little Bunkers at Farmer Joel’s.

Frontispiece—(Page [152])

SIX LITTLE BUNKERS
AT FARMER JOEL’S

BY
LAURA LEE HOPE
Author of “Six Little Bunkers at Grandma Bell’s,”
“Six Little Bunkers at Mammy June’s,” “The
Bobbsey Twins Series,” “The Bunny Brown
Series,” “The Make Believe Series,” Etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY
WALTER S. ROGERS
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

BOOKS BY LAURA LEE HOPE

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

THE SIX LITTLE BUNKERS SERIES

SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDMA BELL’S
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT AUNT JO’S
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COUSIN TOM’S
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDPA FORD’S
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT UNCLE FRED’S
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT CAPTAIN BEN’S
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COWBOY JACK’S
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT MAMMY JUNE’S
SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT FARMER JOEL’S

THE BUNNY BROWN SERIES

BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON GRANDPA’S FARM
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE PLAYING CIRCUS
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT AUNT LU’S CITY HOME
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CAMP REST-A-WHILE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE BIG WOODS
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON AN AUTO TOUR
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR SHETLAND PONY
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE GIVING A SHOW
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CHRISTMAS TREE COVE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE SUNNY SOUTH
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE KEEPING STORE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR TRICK DOG

THE BOBBSEY TWINS SERIES

(Sixteen Titles)

THE MAKE BELIEVE SERIES

(Twelve Titles)

THE OUTDOOR GIRLS SERIES

(Thirteen Titles)

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

Copyright, 1923, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP

Six Little Bunkers at Farmer Joel’s

CONTENTS

SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT
FARMER JOEL’S

CHAPTER I
RUSS IN DANGER

“Margy, will you look out on the porch and see if she’s there?”

“Yes, Vi, I will. But you ought to say please to me, ’cause mother says——”

“All right then. Please look and see if she’s there,” begged Vi, otherwise Violet Bunker. There were six of the little Bunkers. The other four will be out presently.

Margy, who had been looking at picture books with her year-older sister in a room off the porch, kindly dropped her book and started for the door.

“If she’s there bring her in—please.” Violet laughed a little as she added the last word. She remembered what Margy had started to say about politeness.

Violet was piling up the books, for she had just thought of something new to play, when Margy came hurrying back into the room.

“She isn’t there!” gasped the smaller Bunker girl.

“She isn’t?” Violet fairly gasped out the words, and you could easily tell that she was very much excited. “Are you sure, Margy?”

“No, she isn’t there, Vi! Maybe a tramp has taken her!”

“Oh!” cried Violet, in such a loud voice that Mrs. Bunker, having heard part of the talk, came quickly from the room where she had been sewing.

“Who’s gone?” demanded the mother of the six little Bunkers. “Don’t tell me Mun Bun is lost again!”

Mun Bun was the youngest of the six little Bunkers. His real name was Munroe Ford Bunker, but that was entirely too long for the little fellow, so he was called “Mun Bun.” It was a name he had made up for himself.

“Where is Mun Bun? Is he lost again?” asked Mrs. Bunker, starting to take off her apron to go in search of the “little tyke,” as she often called him, for he certainly did get into mischief very many times.

“Mun Bun isn’t lost,” answered Violet, as she hurried out on the porch with Margy. “He’s out in the yard with Laddie, digging a hole.”

“An’ he says he’s going to dig down to China,” added Margy.

“And I just put clean bloomers on him!” sighed Mrs. Bunker. “But who is gone?” she asked again. “It can’t be Rose or Russ—they’re too old to be taken by a tramp!”

There, now you have heard the names of all six of the little Bunkers, though Russ, being nearly ten, I think, wouldn’t like to be called “little.”

“No, it isn’t Russ or Rose,” said Margy. “I saw them going down the street. Maybe they’re going to daddy’s office to ask him for some money to buy candy.”

“Oh, they mustn’t do that!” exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. “This is the first of the month and daddy is very busy. They shouldn’t have gone there. Are you sure, Margy?”

“Oh, they didn’t zactly say they were going there,” announced Margy. “But I thought maybe——”

“You mustn’t tell things you aren’t sure of,” said her mother. “But who is——”

“Mother, why is daddy so busy the first of the month?” asked Vi, forgetting for the moment all about what she had sent Margy to look for. Violet Bunker was, as her father said, “a great girl for asking questions.” Her mother knew this, and, fearing that Vi would get started on a list of inquiries that would take some time to answer, Mrs. Bunker said:

“Now don’t begin that, Vi, dear. I’ll answer just this one question, but not any more. Your father is busy the first of the month more than at other times because tenants pay their rents then, and he collects the rents for a large number of people. That’s one thing a real estate dealer, like your father, does. Now, don’t ask another question!” she commanded, for she saw that Vi was getting ready, as Russ would say, “to spring another.”

“I wasn’t going to ask a question,” said Vi, looking a little hurt in her feelings. “I was going to say——”

“Wait until I find out what’s happened first,” broke in Mrs. Bunker. “Who is missing? It can’t be any of you, for you’re all present or accounted for, as they say in the army. Who is——”

“It’s Esmeralda!” exclaimed Violet. “I had her out on the porch playing with Margy. Then we went in to look at the picture books, and I forgot about Esmeralda and——”

“Russ says her name ought to be Measles ’cause she’s all spotted,” put in Margy, with a shake of her dark, tousled hair. “But it’s only spots of dirt.”

“Come on,” demanded Vi of Margy, taking her younger sister by the hand. “We’ve got to find Esmeralda!”

“Oh, it’s your doll!” remarked Mrs. Bunker, with a sigh of relief. “I thought one of you children was missing. I had quite a start. It’s only your doll. That’s different.”

“Esmeralda is my child, even if she is only a doll,” and Vi marched away with Margy, her head held up proudly.

“Oh, my dear, I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t want to find your missing play child,” called Mrs. Bunker quickly, for she realized that a little girl’s feelings might be hurt by a slighting remark about even a dirty and spotted doll. “I only meant that I was glad none of you children was missing. I’ll help you look for Esmeralda.”

“She isn’t out on the porch. I looked,” said Margy.

“We left her there, didn’t we?” asked Vi, for sometimes there was so much going on at the Bunker house that to remember where one of the many dolls or other playthings was left became a task.

“Yes, we left Esmeralda out on the porch,” agreed Margy. “But she isn’t there now. I looked. She’s—she’s gone!”

Margy felt almost as sad over the loss as did Vi, though Esmeralda, or “Measles,” as Russ called her, belonged particularly to Violet.

“Do you s’pose a tramp would take my doll, Mother?” asked Violet, for Mrs. Bunker was now walking toward the side porch with her two little girls.

“No, my dear, I don’t believe so,” was the answer. “What would a tramp want with a doll?”

This puzzled Vi for a moment, but she quickly had ready a reply.

“He—he might want to give her to his little girl,” Vi said.

“Tramps, as a rule, don’t have little girls,” remarked Mrs. Bunker. “If they had they wouldn’t be tramps.”

This gave Vi a chance to ask another question. Eagerly she had it ready.

“Why don’t tramps have little girls?” she inquired of her mother. “Do they run away? I mean do the little girls run away?”

“No, that isn’t the reason,” and Mrs. Bunker tried not to smile at Vi’s eagerness. “I’ll tell you about it some other time. But show me where you left your doll,” she added, as they reached the shady side porch. “Esmeralda certainly isn’t here,” for a look around showed no doll in sight.

“Oh, where can she be?” gasped Vi, now on the verge of tears. Margy, seeing how her sister was affected, was also getting ready to weep, but just then a merry whistle was heard around the corner of the house. It was the merry whistle of a happy boy.

“Here comes Russ!” exclaimed Violet, for she knew her oldest brother’s habit of being tuneful. “He’ll help me look for Esmeralda.”

“Maybe he took her,” suggested Margy.

“No. If he did he wouldn’t be coming back whistling,” decided Vi.

Russ Bunker, next to his father the “man” of the family, swung around the path at the side of the house. Following him was Rose, his sister, a year younger, a pretty girl, with light, fluffy hair. And, very often, Rose had a merry song on her lips. But as Russ was now whistling Rose could not sing. She always said Russ whistled “out of tune,” but Russ declared it was her singing that was off key.

“Oh, Russ!” exclaimed his mother, “you didn’t go to daddy’s office and bother him to-day, did you, when it’s the first of the month? And he is so busy——”

“No, Mother, I wasn’t at daddy’s office,” Russ answered. “Rose and I just went to the store for some nails. I’m making a seesaw, and——”

“Oh, can I be on it?” begged Margy. “I love to teeter-totter! Please, Russ, can’t I——”

“I want a ride, too!” put in Vi.

“All right! All right!” agreed Russ, with a laugh. “You can all have rides—Mun Bun and Laddie too—as soon as I get it made. But it’s a lot of work and it’s got to be done right and——”

Russ paused. He could see that something was wrong, as he said afterward. Russ was a quick thinker. Also he was always making things about the house. These were mostly things with which to play and have a good time, though once he built a bench for his mother. The only trouble was that he didn’t make the legs strong enough, and when Norah O’Grady, the cook, set a tub of water on the bench the legs caved in and there was a “mess” in the kitchen.

“Has anything happened?” asked Russ, for he could see that his mother and his two small sisters had come out on the porch with some special idea in mind.

“Violet’s doll is gone,” explained Mrs. Bunker. “She left it on the porch, and she feels sad over losing it. If you know anything about it, Russ——”

“You mean that old Measles doll?” asked the oldest Bunker boy, laughing.

“She hasn’t the measles at all—so there!” and Violet stamped her foot on the porch.

“Well, she looks so—all spotted,” added Russ, with another laugh. Then, as he saw that Violet was ready to cry and that Margy was going to follow with tears, Russ added: “I guess I know where your doll is. Henry Miller just told me——”

“Oh, did he take her?” cried Violet. “If he did I’ll never speak to him again and——”

“Now, wait a minute!” advised Russ. “You girls always get so excited! I didn’t say Henry took your doll. I just met him and he said he saw a dog running out of our yard with something in his mouth. Maybe it was the dog that took your doll, Violet.”

“Oh! Oh!” cried the little girl, and she was now sobbing in real earnest.

“Oh, the dog will eat up Esmeralda!” and Margy added her tears to those of Violet.

“I’ll go down the street and look for her,” quickly offered Russ. He was a kind boy that way. Of course he didn’t care for dolls, and he was anxious to start making the seesaw, nails for which he and Rose had gone after. But Russ was willing to give up his own pleasure to help his little sister.

“I’ll get your doll,” he said. “I guess that dog wouldn’t carry her far after he found out she wasn’t a bone or something good to eat.”

“She—she—she’s a nice doll, anyhow, so there!” sobbed Violet. “An’—an’ I—I want her!”

“I guess I can find her,” offered Russ. “Here, Rose, you hold the nails.”

Russ started on a run toward the front gate. Mrs. Bunker and the three girls followed. As yet Laddie and Mun Bun had not heard the excitement over the missing doll, for they were still in the back yard, “digging down to China.”

Russ reached the gate, looked down the road in the direction Henry Miller had told him the dog had run with something in its mouth, and then Russ cried:

“I see her! I see your doll, Vi! The dog dropped her in the street! I’ll get her for you.”

Russ started on the run toward a small object lying in the dust of the road. Before Russ could reach the doll a big automobile truck swung around the corner and came straight for poor Esmeralda.

“Oh, she’ll be run over!” screamed Violet. “My child!”

But Russ had also seen the truck and, knowing there would be little left of the doll if one of the heavy wheels went over her, he ran a little faster and darted directly in front of the big lumbering, thundering automobile.

“Russ! Russ! Be careful!” called his mother.

“Look out there, youngster!” yelled the man who was driving the truck.

On came the heavy automobile, bearing down on Russ who was now in the middle of the street, stooping over to pick up Esmeralda.

CHAPTER II
A LOAD OF FLOWERS

Three of the six little Bunkers—Rose, Margy and Violet—stood grouped around their mother, looking with anxious eyes toward Russ, who had made up his mind that he was going to get Vi’s doll and snatch it out of danger before the big truck reached it. But, in doing this, Russ was also in danger himself.

“Russ! Russ! Come back!” cried his mother, darting forward.

“It’s going to run right over him!” screamed Margy.

“He’ll be smashed!” and Violet covered her eyes with her hands.

“Let the old doll go!” shouted Rose.

But Russ did not heed. Straight across the street, directly in front of the truck he ran, and toward Vi’s doll Esmeralda that was lying in the highway, where she had been dropped by the stray dog.

The man driving the big truck, after giving one call of warning, had ceased, and was now doing his best either to steer out of the way, so he would not run over Russ, or else to put on the brakes. This last was not so easy to do as the street just there was down hill and the truck was a heavy one.

Russ reached the doll before the truck got to it. The Bunker boy picked up Vi’s plaything and started to run out of danger, but he slipped on a stone and down he fell in the dust of the road.

“Oh! Oh!” cried his mother. “Oh, Russ!”

Russ was down, but, as he said afterward, he was not “out.” He rolled to one side, out of the way of the thundering big wheels of the truck. A moment later he was on his feet, dirty and dusty, but holding proudly aloft the doll he had rescued.

By this time the man had brought his truck to a stop, a little distance from the place where Russ had fallen and where the doll had been lying.

“That was a narrow escape for you, youngster!” exclaimed the man rather sternly. “You ought not to do things like that!”

“I didn’t want Vi’s doll run over,” explained Russ, as his mother and sisters hurried toward him.

And while Russ is brushing the dust from his clothing and while Vi is looking over her doll, to make sure it is all right, I shall take a moment to let you know who the Bunkers are. And I shall also speak of the other books in this series telling about them. I think it is much better to read about people after you know who they are and what they have done.

The first book introducing the children is called “Six Little Bunkers at Grandma Bell’s.” At the opening of that story you find the Bunkers living in Pineville, a Pennsylvania town.

Bunker was the family name, and as there were six children, none of them very large, it was the most natural thing in the world to speak of them as the “six little Bunkers.” Of course there was a father and mother Bunker. Mr. Bunker’s name was Charles, and he was in the real estate business. His wife was named Amy, and there were a number of relatives, all of whom loved the six little Bunkers and all of whom the six little Bunkers loved.

As for the children the eldest was Russ—the one who was just in such danger. Russ seemed destined to become an inventor, for he was always making new things—make-believe houses, engines, automobiles, steamboats and the like. And as he worked he whistled merrily.

Rose might be called a “little mother,” for she was very helpful about the house, and Mrs. Bunker often said:

“I don’t know what I’d do without Rose to help look after the younger children.”

Violet and Laddie, who were twins, needed much looking after. They were both rather peculiar. That is, Violet was given to asking questions. Her father said she could ask more in an hour than could be rightly answered in a week. As for Laddie, he was fond of asking riddles such as:

“You can have a house full and a hole full but you can’t keep a bowl full. What is it?” The answer, of course, is “smoke,” but nothing gave Laddie more pleasure than to find some one who couldn’t answer that or some other riddle he asked. Sometimes he made up riddles himself, or he might ask one that came out of a book. A queer little chap was Laddie.

Then there was Margy, who was seldom called by her real name of Margaret, and Mun Bun, otherwise known as Munroe Ford, as I have mentioned.

Now you have met all the six little Bunkers and I hope you will like them. As for their aunts, their uncles, their cousins and their other relatives—well, there are books telling about these different characters. The children often went to visit their cousins and aunts and had many adventures.

For instance there is the time they stayed for a while at Aunt Jo’s, or the occasion of their visit to Cousin Tom’s. They had fun at both these places, but no more than at Grandpa Ford’s or Uncle Fred’s. When they spent several weeks at Captain Ben’s the six little Bunkers had delightful times, and Russ thought there never was such a chap as Cowboy Jack, at whose ranch they spent some time. The other children liked Cowboy Jack, too.

Just before the events I am going to tell you about in this book took place, the children had been down South. You may find out all that happened by reading the volume, “Six Little Bunkers at Mammy June’s.” The family was now at home again in Pineville, ready for more adventures.

“You certainly gave me a fright, boy,” said the truck driver, as he got down off his high seat and looked at Russ. “Why did you run out into the road like that?”

“I wanted to get my sister’s doll,” answered Russ, still brushing the dust from his clothes.

“Um! Well, don’t do it again—that’s all I ask!” begged the man. “I was afraid I was going to run right over you!”

“Yes, it was a very dangerous thing for him to do,” said Mrs. Bunker. “He shouldn’t have tried it. I’m sorry he caused you trouble.”

“Oh, it wasn’t exactly trouble,” said the man, and he smiled a little. “I was going to stop around here, anyhow. I’m looking for a family named Bunker. Do you know if they live around here?”

“We’re the Bunkers!” quickly answered Russ. “Anyhow, we’re the most of ’em,” he added, laughing. “All but daddy and——”

“Oh!” murmured the driver of the truck. “Are there more of you?”

“It is rather a large family,” said Mrs. Bunker. “I have two more boys.”

“My daddy’s in his office,” volunteered Violet, who was now satisfied that her doll, Esmeralda, was all right except for a little dirt.

“And Laddie and Mun Bun are digging a hole to China,” added Margy.

“Oh,” and again the man smiled.

“Are you looking for a Mr. Charles Bunker?” asked Mrs. Bunker.

“That’s the name, yes, ma’am,” the truck driver replied, glancing at a slip of paper in his hand. “I have a load of flowers for him.”

“Oh, flowers! Is that what’s on your auto?” cried Rose, for the sides of the truck were covered with canvas and it could not be seen what it was laden with. Without waiting for an answer, Rose hurried around to the rear. There she saw a number of pots of flowers and plants, and, being very fond of them, she reached up to pull nearer to her the pot closest to the end of the truck.

Perhaps the sudden stopping of the vehicle had made the pot unsteady, for, as Rose touched it, the pot was upset and rolled out of the truck toward the little girl.

“Oh! Oh!” cried Rose.

“What is the matter now?” asked Mrs. Bunker, going around to the rear of the truck. She was just in time to see a shower of brown earth from the pot splattering around Rose. The pot fell to the ground and was broken, the flower in it being knocked out.

“Not much damage done as long as the little girl isn’t harmed,” said the driver. “I’ve got some extra pots on the truck and I can easily plant this flower again,” and he picked up the geranium, which was a pink one in full blossom.

“Let me ’mell!” begged Mun Bun who, with Laddie, had now come out in the street to see why his mother and the other little Bunkers were gathered there.

“There isn’t much smell to that geranium,” laughed the driver. “But I have other flowers that do smell.”

“Are all these for us?” asked Mrs. Bunker, as she saw the mass of blossoms inside. “Rose, dear, are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

“Yes, Mother, I’m all right,” was the answer. “But, oh, where did all the pretty flowers come from?”

“They’re from Mr. Joel Todd,” answered the driver.

“Farmer Joel?” asked Mrs. Bunker.

“Yes, some folks call him that,” was the reply, and Mrs. Bunker remembered a rather odd character whom her husband knew. Mr. Bunker had often spoken of “Farmer Joel,” but had said nothing about a load of flowers coming from him.

“Did my husband order these?” asked Mrs. Bunker.

“No, I don’t know that he did, exactly,” the driver answered. “Farmer Joel had more plants than he could use, so he told me to bring these in to you, as I had to come this way anyhow with a load of produce.”

“Mother, who is Farmer Joel?” asked Rose, in a whisper.

“He has a farm about forty miles from here,” answered Mrs. Bunker. “Your father and I were there some years ago. Farmer Joel has orchards, bees, flowers, chickens, cows, and horses.”

“Oh, what a lovely place that would be to go to for the rest of the summer!” exclaimed Rose.

“Could we go there, Mother?” begged Vi.

“I—now—I know a riddle about a horse,” spoke up Laddie. “When is a boy a little horse?”

“We haven’t time for riddles now, dear,” said his mother. “I must tell this man where to leave the flowers that Farmer Joel was so kind as to send us.”

“Well, then I’ll tell you when a boy is a little horse,” went on Laddie. “It’s when he has a cold.”

“Pooh! Being hoarse when you have a cold isn’t being a horse on a farm,” declared Rose.

“It’s good enough for a riddle,” replied Laddie. “Oh, I want a ride!” he cried, as he saw the driver climbing up on his seat after Mrs. Bunker had pointed out her house.

“No, Laddie! Keep off the truck,” his mother warned him.

“Farmer Joel!” said Russ, in a musing tone as they all turned to go back home. “I wonder if we could go there?”

“Maybe you’ll have the chance,” his mother said, smiling.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” cried the six little Bunkers in delight.

“But I can’t tell you any more now,” Mrs. Bunker went on. “It’s a secret!”

CHAPTER III
THE SECRET

Mrs. Bunker could not have said anything more exciting than the word “secret” if she had tried for a week. Hearing it, the six little Bunkers fairly jumped for joy.

“Oh, ho! A secret!” cried Russ.

“Let me guess what it is!” begged Laddie, acting as though he thought it a riddle.

“Oh, tell me!” cried Rose. “I won’t tell the others, Mother.”

“No, no!” laughed Mrs. Bunker. “When it is time to tell the secret you shall all know it at once.”

“Is it about us?” asked Violet, with what she thought a cunning air, hoping she might surprise something of the secret from her mother.

“Yes, it’s about all of you,” was the answer.

“Is it good to eat?” was what Mun Bun wanted to know.

“Yes, the secret is good to eat,” answered Mrs. Bunker, with laughing eyes, as she looked at Farmer Joel’s truck driver.

“Is it good to play with?” was the question Margy asked.

“Yes, it’s good to play with, too,” said her mother.

This set all the six little Bunkers to guessing, and they named first one thing and then another, but Mrs. Bunker only shook her head, laughed, and told them they would have to wait to find out about the secret.

“You’ve got your hands full with those youngsters, I can see that,” chuckled the truck driver, who had said his name was Adam North. “They must keep you busy.”

“They do. But they are good children,” Mrs. Bunker said, while Rose was murmuring:

“I can’t think what kind of a secret it can be that you can eat and play with. Can you, Russ?”

“Not unless it’s a candy cane—the kind we used to get for Christmas,” he answered.

“Oh, it couldn’t be that!” quickly declared Rose. “Mother wouldn’t make a secret about a candy cane. I think it must have something to do with this Farmer Joel.”

“Maybe,” agreed Russ. “But I have to go into the house and brush my clothes. I didn’t think they were so dusty. It’s like sliding for first base when you’re playing ball.”

By this time the six little Bunkers in charge of their mother were ready to walk back toward their house. They made a pretty picture as they stood in the street, Mun Bun and Margy were first, side by side, and holding hands as the two youngest generally did. Then came the twins, Violet and Laddie, next largest in size, and back of them were Rose and Russ, while Mrs. Bunker came behind the two oldest, smiling at her “brood,” as she sometimes called them, pretending they were hungry chickens.

“Well, we’re generally hungry all right,” Russ would say with a laugh when his mother spoke thus.

“I suppose we look like a procession, don’t we?” asked Mrs. Bunker of Adam North, as he prepared to start his truckload of flowers.

“Well, a little, yes,” he agreed, with a laugh. “But it’s a mighty nice procession. I guess Farmer Joel wishes he had one like it.”

“That’s so, he has no children, has he?” remarked Mrs. Bunker. “It’s been some time since I have seen him, and I thought perhaps he might have married.”

“No,” went on Mr. North, while the six little Bunkers listened to the talk, wondering, the while, what the wonderful secret might be. “Farmer Joel is still a bachelor. He lives with his sister Miss Lavina. She keeps house for him, you know.”

“Oh, yes, I know Lavina Todd very well,” said Mrs. Bunker. “She and I were old chums. We went to school together when we lived in the same country town as girls. But that was quite a number of years ago, and I thought Farmer Joel might have married in all that time.”

“No—old bachelor,” replied Adam North. “But he’s the kindest, jolliest soul you’d want to meet and he loves children. That’s why I say he’d like a procession like yours. Now then, where do you want these flowers? I’ve got quite a load of ’em.”

“Indeed you have a wonderful load of blossoms,” said Mrs. Bunker. “It was very kind of Farmer Joel to send them. But I’m afraid I can’t set them out all alone.”

“Oh, I’ll stay and help you plant the flowers,” offered Adam North, who was something of a farmer and gardener himself. “Mr. Todd said I was to do that. I’ve got to stay, anyhow, to see Mr. Bunker. He’ll be home soon, I expect.”

“Yes, he’ll come home to supper,” replied Mrs. Bunker. “I hope you can stay and have a meal with us,” she added.

“Well, I might—yes,” was the slow answer. “In fact, I was going to stay over at the hotel all night, as it’s a long ride back to Cedarhurst, and I don’t like to drive the truck after dark if I can help it.”

“Oh, then you can stay at our house,” quickly said Mrs. Bunker. “We’d be delighted to have you. There is plenty of room.”

“And you can tell us about the farm,” added Rose.

“And about the bees,” added Mun Bun. “Does they sting?”

“Sometimes,” laughed Mr. North.

THE CHILDREN HELPED AS MUCH AS THEY COULD.

Six Little Bunkers at Farmer Joel’s.

(Page [31])

“And tell us about the cows and chickens,” begged Laddie. “I know a riddle about—now—about a cow, only I can’t think of it.”

“Maybe it’s the cow that jumped over the moon,” joked Mr. North.

“No, it isn’t that,” Laddie answered. “Maybe I’ll think of it after a while.”

“I’d like to hear about the horses,” suggested Violet. “How many horses does Farmer Joel have and do they ever run away and did they ever run away with you and did you get hurt and are there any little horses? I don’t believe they’d run away, would they? And if a horse runs away does he run back again and——”

“Violet! Violet!” cried her mother. But the little girl had stopped herself, for she was out of breath.

“Does she often get spells like that?” asked Adam North, with a laughing look at Mrs. Bunker.

“Sometimes,” was the smiling answer. “But generally she asks her questions one at a time. I don’t know what made her take such a streak. But come, children, I want to get these flowers set out before daddy comes home. Come along.”

“We can plant some in the hole we dug,” said Laddie.

“No! No!” cried Mun Bun. “That’s a hole to China and we don’t want any flowers in it!”

“Easy, Mun Bun! Don’t get so excited,” soothed Russ. “Maybe the people in China would like some of these flowers.”

“Oh, all right. I give some flowers to Chiweeze,” agreed Mun Bun.

By this time the truck had rolled into the driveway of the Bunker home, and the family of children and their mother soon followed. The doll, which had been the cause of so much excitement, and not a little trouble, was put in the house where no wandering dog could carry her off again. Then Adam North began unloading the pots of flowers, some of which needed to be set out in the ground to make them grow better.

It was toward the end of spring, with summer in prospect and just the time to start making a flower garden, Mr. North said. Farmer Joel raised many kinds of plants and blossoms, his sister Miss Lavina Todd helping him. They had so many that it had been decided to send some to Mr. Bunker.

“But I never thought he could spare all these,” remarked Mrs. Bunker, when she saw the geraniums, the begonias, the four-o’clocks, the petunias, the zinnias, the marigolds and many other kinds of “posy-trees,” as Mun Bun called them.

“Oh, yes, we have more flowers at Cedarhurst than we know what to do with,” said Adam North, as he began setting out the blossoms.

The children and Mrs. Bunker helped as much as they could, but except for what Russ, Rose and Mrs. Bunker did there was really not much help. For Violet, Margy, Mun Bun and Laddie would start to dig a hole in which to set out a plant, then they would forget all about it in running to see a new kind of blossom that was taken from the truck.

So it was that there were a number of half-dug holes about the garden, with nothing planted in them. But Adam North knew his business well, and soon he had turned the formerly dull Bunker yard into a veritable flower-show, with bright blossoms here and there.

“Now if you’ll just give ’em a little wetting down with the hose so they won’t wilt, they’ll come up fresh and strong by morning,” he said, when the last plant was set out.

“I’ll use the hose!” offered Russ.

“I’ll help!” said Rose.

“So will I!” cried the other four little Bunkers. Using the hose was something they all delighted to do.

“No, my dears,” said Mrs. Bunker firmly. “Russ will do the sprinkling and all the others must come in and get washed ready for supper. Daddy will soon be home and then——”

“Will you tell us the secret?” asked Rose.

“I think so—yes,” was the reply, and this gave the smaller children something to think about so they did not mind not being allowed to use the hose.

“I wouldn’t dare let them take turns wetting the new plants,” said Mrs. Bunker to Adam. “Russ is all right, but the others would shower every one passing in the street.”

“I reckon so, and wash out all the new plants besides,” chuckled Farmer Joel’s hired man. “And now,” he went on, “since you have been so kind as to ask me to stay to supper and remain all night, I’d like to wash up myself. I’m pretty dirty,” he added, with a laugh, as he looked at his grimy hands, for he had been delving in the dirt to set out the flowers.

“Come with me,” said Mrs. Bunker. “And, Russ,” she added, “be careful about the hose. Don’t spray on any people who may be passing.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised.

Ordinarily when Russ used the hose all the other little Bunkers stood around anxiously waiting for their turn. But now, with the prospect of hearing a secret, they went willingly to the bathroom and soon were as shining as soap and water could make them.

Adam, as the children soon began to call him, for he was very friendly, ran the big truck up alongside the garage, as there was not room for it inside. Then, after he had washed and prepared for supper, he went out to see that Russ did not spray too much water on the newly set out plants.

Norah, the cook, had supper almost ready and Adam had told Russ enough water had been used when the boy, looking down the street, saw his father approaching.

“Here comes daddy!” he cried.

Mr. Bunker waved his newspaper and as he reached the gate and saw the visitor a pleasant smile came over his face and he cried:

“Well, Adam North! Glad to see you! How’s Farmer Joel?”

“Right hearty! I brought you those flowers.”

“That’s good! Hello, Russ! How’s everything here?”

“All right, Daddy!”

“Daddy! Daddy!” came in a chorus from the other little Bunkers, and their father was overwhelmed in a joyous rush.

“What’s the secret?”

“Tell us the secret!”

“Can Mother tell us the secret now?”

These were only a few of the words Mr. Bunker heard as he was hugged and kissed.

“Secret?” he exclaimed, looking at Adam. “What secret?”

“Oh, you know!” laughed Rose. “It must be about Farmer Joel!”

“Oh, that!” chuckled Mr. Bunker. “Yes, the secret is about him,” he admitted. “But how did you all know it?”

“There’s been a lot of excitement in the last hour,” said Adam. “I nearly ran over a doll, just missed smashing Russ, and there’s a secret in the air. Oh, nobody’s hurt,” he quickly added, for he saw that Mr. Bunker looked a little alarmed at the mention of what had so nearly been an accident.

“That’s good,” said Daddy Bunker.

“The secret! The secret!” begged the children.

“All right. Come into the house and I’ll tell you the secret,” he promised.

With whoops of delight, in trooped the six little Bunkers.

CHAPTER IV
WHERE IS LADDIE?

“Supper is all ready, Daddy! We’ll sit right down,” called Mother Bunker, as the happy crowd entered. “I see you have already met Farmer Joel’s man,” she added, nodding and smiling.

“Oh, yes, Adam and I are old friends,” Mr. Bunker said. “And I’m glad supper is ready, for I’m hungry. Let me see now——”

“The secret! The secret!”

“You promised to tell us the secret!”

“Tell us now!”

“Don’t wait until after supper!”

Thus cried the six little Bunkers.

“Quiet, children! Please be quiet!” begged their mother. “What will Adam North think of you?”

“Oh, let ’em go on! I like it!” chuckled the truck driver.

“I think perhaps I had better tell the secret,” said Mr. Bunker. “It is the only way we shall have any peace and quiet. Now all of you sit down to the table,” he ordered, “and when you can compose yourselves I will tell you what I have to say.”

It took some little time for all of the six little Bunkers to get quiet, but finally each one was sitting nicely in his or her chair, with their father at one end of the table and their mother at the other, Adam having a place next to Mr. Bunker.

“Now,” said Mr. Bunker, when all was quiet, “in order that you will not eat too fast, to get through supper quickly to hear the secret, I am going to tell it to you now.”

“Oh, I can hardly wait!” murmured Rose.

“What is it?” asked Violet.

Then came a moment of eager, anxious waiting.

“We are all going to spend the summer at Farmer Joel’s,” said Mr. Bunker suddenly.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” came the murmurs of delight. Mrs. Bunker, with laughter shining in her eyes, looked at the happy faces around her.

“They sure will have fun out there!” said Adam.

“Do you really mean it?” asked Russ. “Are we going?”

“Surely,” said his father. “Farmer Joel’s sister, who has been keeping house for him, is going away on a visit. When he told me this he said he didn’t know what he was going to do, as he didn’t want a strange woman coming in to look after the place. Then I said I would bring my six little Bunkers up there and they would keep house for him.”

“Did you really say that, Daddy?” Rose asked eagerly.

“I surely did.”

“Well, I can keep house a little bit,” Rose went on. “But to cook for a farmer——”

Rose began to look worried, so her mother said:

“You won’t have to do it all alone. I am going with you, and so is Norah, and we’ll see that Farmer Joel doesn’t get hungry.”

“Oh, if mother is coming it will be all right,” said Violet.

“Fine! Yes!” cried the other little Bunkers. You can see they thought a great deal of their mother.

“So that is how it came about,” went on Mr. Bunker. “Farmer Joel’s sister is going away on a long visit—to remain all summer. We are going up there to live on his farm.”

“And can I help get in the crops?” asked Russ, who liked to be busy.

“Yes, we’ll all help,” his father promised. “I think you need a lot of help on a farm in summer, don’t you, Adam?” he asked.

“That’s right,” answered Farmer Joel’s hired man. “The more help we have the better. I’m pretty well rushed myself in the summer.”

“And can we see the horses?” asked Violet.

“And the cows?” came from Laddie.

“And the sheep?” Mun Bun wanted to know.

“And the apple trees?” asked Margy.

“I’d like to see the bees make honey,” remarked Rose, who, herself, was often as busy as any bee.