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Margy and Mun Bun were delighted with the "chickens" as they called most of the fowl the Armatages kept. But there were many different kinds not alone of hens and roosters; for there were peafowl, and guineas, and ducks, and turkeys. And in addition there was a flock of gray geese.
If I told you that I had said, 'Give it all up, my dear, and don't vex your aged father, what would you say?" You're a liar!" "MARGY": "No, I'm not, Sir William; but, when I see people listening at doors, I give them a run for their money." I had another vicarious proposal.
Out in the shady side yard some of the little Bunkers were playing different games. Mun and Margy were making sand pies, turning them out of clam shells on to a shingle, and letting them dry in the sun. Mun's red balloon floated in the air over the heads of the children, the string tied fast to a peg Russ had driven into the ground.
By stooping down, and reaching, she had often pulled her own kitten out from under her mother's dresser. "I can get you! I can get you!" laughed the little girl. Paying no attention to her clean, white stockings, which her mother had put on her only that morning, Margy knelt down on the sidewalk, and stretched her arms under the fruit stand, beneath which the half-frightened kitten had crawled.
They came to a place where a panel of the fence was crooked. It had been broken, in fact, and it was much easier to push it aside than not. Why! when Mun Bun leaned against it the strip of fence fell right over on to the grass of the goose yard. "Now see what you've done, Mun Bun!" exclaimed Margy. "Why oh I didn't mean to," sputtered Mun Bun. "What do you s'pose Mr. Armatage will say?"
Of course Rose didn't want to be a tattle-tale, but still it was better to be that than to let her brother do what he intended. So, while Russ and Laddie got ready for their race, Rose skated, as quickly as she could, to the other end of the pond, where her father was giving Violet, Mun Bun and Margy some of Grandma's cookies, which they had brought along. "Come on, now! One, two, three!
"It hasn't got any door, just the same," said Mun Bun, who might have liked the house better if he had found it himself. "We don't need a door. We want it open so the big folks can see our tree when we get it trimmed." "Where is the tree?" demanded the still doubtful little boy. "Now, Mun Bun!" exclaimed Margy, "do you want to play at fixing this Christmas tree, or don't you?"
"And we are the six little Bunkers everybody calls us that. 'Course Laddie and I are only two Bunkers there're four more at home Rose, Vi, Margy and Mun Bun." "What's Mun Bun?" asked the gate-man. Nearly every one asked this on hearing the funny name. "Mun Bun is our littlest brother," explained Russ, who was doing all the talking. "His right name is Munroe, but we call him Mun Bun for short."
Bunker did hurry on hearing what Russ was calling about Mun Bun and Margy. She almost fell out of the hammock, did Mrs. Bunker, she was in such haste. "Daddy! Daddy! Come quick!" she called to her husband, who was in the bungalow, talking to Cousin Tom. "Margy and Mun Bun are in a boat on the inlet and are being carried out to sea. Hurry!" Daddy Bunker also hurried.
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."
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