Six Little Bunkers at Farmer Joel's
Laura Lee Hope
9781465522184
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
“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.”
