by A. A. Milne
* * *
"'I must put a squeak in it,' said Santa.
* * *
"So he took a box of squeaks from a shelf and put one into the rabbit before he sewed it up. When it was all finished he pressed the toy rabbit with his thumb, and it squeaked so naturally that I jumped off the table, fearing at first the new rabbit was alive. Old Santa laughed merrily at this, and I soon recovered from my fright and was pleased to think the babies were to have such pretty playthings.
* * *
"'After this,' said Santa Claus, 'I can make rabbits without having you for a pattern; but if you like you may stay a few days longer in my castle and amuse yourself."
* * *
"I thanked him and decided to stay. So for several days I watched him making all kinds of toys, and I wondered to see how quickly he made them, and how many new things he invented.
* * *
"'I almost wish I was a child,' I said to him one day, 'for then I too could have playthings.'
* * *
"'Ah, you can run about all day, in summer and in winter, and enjoy yourself in your own way,' said Santa; 'but the poor little children are obliged to stay in the house in the winter and on rainy days in the summer, and then they must have toys to amuse them and keep them contented."
* * *
"I knew this was true, so I only said, admiringly, 'You must be the quickest and the best workman in all the world, Santa.'
* * *
"'I suppose I am,' he answered; 'but then, you see, I have been making toys for hundreds of years, and I make so many it is no wonder I am skillful. And now, if you are ready to go home, I 'll hitch up the reindeer and take you back again.'
* * *
"'Oh, no,' said I, 'I prefer to run by myself, for I can easily find the way and I want to see the country.'
* * *
"'If that is the case,' replied Santa, 'I must give you a magic collar to wear, so that you will come to no harm.'
* * *
"So, after Mother Hubbard had given me a good meal of turnips and sliced cabbage, Santa Claus put the magic collar around my neck and I started for home. I took my time on the journey, for I knew nothing could harm me, and I saw a good many strange sights before I got back to this place again."
* * *
"But what became of the magic collar?" asked Dorothy, who had listened with breathless interest to the rabbit's story.
* * *
"After I got home," replied the rabbit, "the collar disappeared from around my neck, and I knew Santa had called it back to himself again. He did not give it to me, you see; he merely let me take it on my journey to protect me. The next Christmas, when I watched by the road-side to see Santa, I was pleased to notice a great many of the toy rabbits sticking out of the loaded sleigh. The babies must have liked them, too, for every year since I have seen them amongst the toys.
* * *
"Santa never forgets me, and every time he passes he calls out, in his jolly voice,
* * *
"'A merry Christmas to you, Bun Rabbit! The babies still love you dearly.'"
* * *
The Rabbit paused, and Dorothy was just about to ask another question when Bunny raised his head and seemed to hear something coming.
* * *
"What is it?" enquired the girl.
* * *
"It 's the farmer's big shepherd dog," answered the Rabbit, "and I must be going before he sees me, or I shall shall [both shalls in original] have to run for my life. So good bye, Dorothy; I hope we shall meet again, and then I will gladly tell you more of my adventures."
* * *
The next instant he had sprung into the wood, and all that Dorothy could see of him was a gray streak darting in and out amongst the trees.
Six Little Bunkers at Grandpa Ford's
Laura Lee Hope
The Man On The Porch
"Oh, Daddy, come and take him off! He's a terrible big one, and he's winkin' one of his claws at me! Come and take him off!"
"All right, Mun Bun. I'll be there in just a second. Hold him under water so he won't let go, and I'll get him for you."
Daddy Bunker, who had been reading the paper on the porch of Cousin Tom's bungalow at Seaview, hurried down to the little pier that was built out into Clam River. On the end of the pier stood a little boy, who was called Mun Bun, but whose real name was Munroe Ford Bunker. However, he was almost always called Mun Bun.
"Come quick, Daddy, or he'll get away!" cried Mun Bun, and he leaned a little way over the edge of the pier to look at something which was on the end of a line he held. The something was down under water.
"Be careful, Mun Bun! Don't fall in!" cried his father, who, having caught up a long-handled net, was now running down a little hill to the pier. "Be careful!" he repeated.
"I will," answered the little boy, shaking his golden hair out of his blue eyes, as he tried to get a better view of what he had caught. "Oh, but he's a big one, and he winks his claws at me!"
"Well, as long as the crab doesn't pinch you you'll be all right," said Daddy Bunker.
There! I meant to tell you before that Mun Bun was catching crabs, and not fish, as you might have supposed at first. He had a long string, with a piece of meat on the end, and he had been dangling this in the water of Clam River, from Cousin Tom's boat pier.
Then a big crab had come along and, catching hold of the chunk of meat in one claw, had tried to swim away with it to eat it in some hole on the bottom of the inlet.
But the string, to which the meat was tied, did not let him. Mun Bun held on to the string and as he slowly pulled it up he caught sight of the crab. As the little fellow had said, it was a big one, and one of the claws was "winkin'" at him. By that Mun Bun meant the crab was opening and closing his claw as one opens and closes an eye.
"Hold him under water, Mun Bun, or he'll let go and drop off," called Daddy Bunker.
"I will," answered the golden-haired boy, and he leaned still farther over the edge of the pier to make sure the crab was still holding to the piece of meat.
"Be careful, Mun Bun!" shouted his father. "Be careful! Oh, there you go!"
And there Mun Bun did go! Right off the pier he fell with a big splash into Clam River. Under the water he went, but he soon came up again, and, having held his breath, as his father had taught him to do whenever his head went under water, Mun Bun, after a gasp or two, was able to cry:
"Oh, Daddy, Daddy, don't let him get me! Don't let the crab pinch me!"
Daddy Bunker did not answer for a moment. He was too busy to talk, for he dropped the long-handled crab net, ran down to the pier and, jumping off himself, grabbed Mun Bun.
Luckily the water was not deep—hardly over Mun Bun's head—and his father soon lifted the little fellow up out of danger.
"There!" cried Daddy Bunker, laughing to show Mun Bun that there was no more danger. "Now the crab can't get you!"
Mun Bun looked around to make sure, and then, seeing that he was sitting on the pier, where his father had placed him, he looked around again.
"Did you—did you get the crab?" he asked, his voice was a little choky.
"No, indeed I didn't!" laughed Mr. Bunker. "I was only trying to get you. I told you to be careful and not lean too far over."
"Well, I—I wanted to see my crab!"
"And the crab came near getting you. Well, it can't be helped now. You are soaking wet. I'll take you up to the bungalow and your mother can put dry clothes on you. Come along."
"But I want to get my crab, Daddy!"
"Oh, he's gone, Mun Bun. No crab would stay near the pier after all the splashing I made when I jumped in to get you out."
"Maybe he's on my string yet," insisted the little fellow. "I tied my string to the pier. Please, Daddy, pull it up and see if it has a crab on it."
"Well, I will," said Mun Bun's father, as he jumped up on the pier from the water, after having lifted out his little boy. "I'll pull up the string, but I'm sure the crab has swum back into the oce
an."
Both Mun Bun and his father were soaking wet, but as it was a hot day in October they did not mind. Mr. Bunker slowly pulled on the string, the end of which, as Mun Bun had said, was tied to a post on the pier. Slowly Mr. Bunker pulled in, not to scare away the crab, if there was one, and a moment later he cried:
"Oh, there is a big one, Mun Bun! It didn't go away with all the splashing! Run and get me the net and I'll catch it for you!"
Mun Bun ran up on shore and came back with the long-handled net Mr. Bunker had dropped. Then, holding the string, with the chunk of meat on it, in one hand, the meat being just under water, Mun Bun's father carefully dipped the net into the water and thrust it under the bait and the crab.
A moment later he quickly lifted the net, and in it was a great, big crab—one of the largest Mr. Bunker had ever seen, and there were some big ones in Clam River.
"Oh, you got him, didn't you!" cried Mun Bun, capering about. "You caught my terrible crab, didn't you, Daddy?"
"Well, I rather guess we did, Mun Bun!" exclaimed Mr. Bunker. "He is a big one, too."
Mr. Bunker turned the net over a peach basket, and the crab, slashing and snapping his claws, dropped into it. Then Mun Bun looked down at him.
"I got you, I did!" said the little boy. "My daddy and I got you, we did."
"But it took a lot of work, Mun Bun!" laughed Mr. Bunker. "If I had to jump in and pull you out every time you wanted to catch a crab I wouldn't like it. But he surely is a big one."
Mun Bun and his father were looking at the crab in the peach basket, when a voice called:
"Oh, what has happened to you? You are all wet!"
Mun Bun's mother came down to the pier.
"What happened?" she repeated.
"Look at the big crab I caught!" cried the little fellow. "Daddy pulled him out for me."
"Yes, and it looks as if Daddy had pulled out something more than a crab," said Mrs. Bunker. "Did you fall in, Mun Bun?"
"No, I didn't zactly fall in. I—I just slipped."
"Oh," said Mrs. Bunker. "I thought maybe you'd say the crab pulled you in."
"Well, he pretty nearly did," said the little fellow.
"He leaned too far over the water," explained Mr. Bunker to his wife. "But I soon got him out. He's all right."
"Yes, but I'll have to change his clothes. However, it isn't the first time. I'm getting used to it."
Well might Mrs. Bunker say that, for, since coming to Cousin Tom's bungalow at Seaview one or more of the children had gotten wet nearly every day, not always from falling off the pier, but from wading, from going too near the high waves at the beach, or from playing in the boats.
"Oh, look at Mun Bun!" cried another voice, as a little girl ran down the slope from the bungalow to the pier. "He's all wet!"
"Did he fall in?" asked another little boy excitedly.
"Oh, look at the big crab!" exclaimed a girl, who, though older than Mun Bun, had the same light hair and blue eyes.
"Did you catch him, Mun Bun?" asked a boy, who seemed older than any of the six children now gathered on the pier. "Did you catch him?"
"Daddy helped me," answered Mun Bun. "And I fell in, I did!"
"That's easy to see!" laughed his mother. "Oh, did the mail come?" she asked, for she saw that the oldest boy had some letters in his hand.
"Yes, Mother," was the answer. "Oh, look at the crab trying to get out!" and with a stick Russ, the oldest of the six little Bunkers, thrust the creature back into the basket.
There were six of the Bunker children. I might have told you that at the start, but I was so excited about Mun Bun falling off the pier that I forgot about it. Anyhow now you have time to count them.
There was Russ, aged eight years; Rose, a year younger; and then came Laddie and Violet, who was called Vi for short.
Laddie and Vi were twins. They were six years old and both had curly hair and gray eyes.
You could tell them apart, even if they were twins, for one was a girl and the other was a boy. But there was another way, for Vi was always asking questions and Laddie was very fond of making up queer little riddles. So in case you forget who is which, that will help you to know.
Then came Margy, or Margaret, who was five years old. She had dark hair and eyes, and next to her was the one I have already told you about—Mun Bun. He was four years old.
While the six little Bunkers were gathered around the basket, in which the big crab Mun Bun had caught was crawling about, Daddy Bunker and his wife were reading the letters Russ had handed them.
"Then we'll have to go back home at once," Mrs. Bunker said.
"Yes, I think so," agreed her husband. "We were going at the end of the week, anyhow, but, since getting this letter, I think we had better start at once, or by to-morrow, anyhow."
"Oh, are we going home?" cried Rose.
"Yes, dear. Daddy thinks we had better. He just had a letter—— Be careful, Mun Bun! Do you want to fall in again?" she cried, for the little fellow, still wet from his first bath, had nearly slipped off the edge of the pier once more, as he jumped back when the big crab again climbed to the top of the peach basket.
"Come! I must take you up to the house and get dry clothes on you," said Mun Bun's mother to him. "Then we must begin to pack and get ready to go home. Our visit to Cousin Tom is at an end."
"Oh, dear!" cried the six little Bunkers.
But children, especially as young as they were, are seldom unhappy for very long over anything.
"We can have a lot of fun at home," said Russ to Rose.
"Oh, yes, so we can. It won't be like the seashore, but we can have fun!"
There was much excitement in Cousin Tom's bungalow at Seaview the next day, for the Bunkers were packing to go back to their home in Pineville, Pennsylvania.
"We are very sorry to see you go," said Cousin Tom.
"Indeed we are," agreed his pretty wife, Ruth. "You must come to see us next summer."
"We will," promised Mr. Bunker. "But just now we must hurry back home. I hope we shall be in time."
Russ and Rose, who heard this, wondered at the reason for it. But they did not have time to ask for, just then, along came the automobile that was to take them from Cousin Tom's house to the railroad station.
Good-byes were said, there was much laughter and shouting; and finally the six little Bunkers and their father and mother were on their way home.
It was a long trip, but finally they reached Pineville and took a carriage from the depot to their house.
"How funny everything looks!" exclaimed Russ, for they had been away from home visiting around, for some time.
"Yes, it does look funny," agreed Rose. "Oh, I see our house!" she called, pointing down the street. "There's our house!"
"Yes," answered Russ. "And oh, look! Daddy! Mother! There's a man on our porch! There's a man asleep on our porch!"
The six little Bunkers, and Daddy and Mother Bunker looked. There was, indeed, an elderly man asleep in a rocking-chair on the porch.
Who could he be?
Grandpa Ford
Eagerly peering from the carriage in which they had ridden from the Pineville station, the six little Bunkers looked to see who the man was on their porch. He seemed to be asleep, for he sat very still in the rocking-chair, which had been forgotten and left on the porch when the family had gone away.
"Do you know him, Daddy?" asked Rose.
"Maybe he is from your office," said Laddie.
"Maybe he's the old tramp lumberman that had your papers in the old coat, Daddy," suggested Russ.
Mr. Bunker hurried down from the carriage, and walked up the steps.
As he did so the old man on the porch woke suddenly from his nap. He sat up, looked at the Bunker family, now crowding up on the steps, and a kind smile spread over his face.
"Well, well!" he exclaimed. "I got here ahead of you, I see!"
"Why, Father!" cried Mr. Bunker.
"Oh, it's Grandpa Ford!" exclaimed Rose.
<
br /> "Grandpa Ford!" fairly shouted Russ, dropping the valise he was carrying, and hurrying to be clasped in the old gentleman's arms.
"Grandpa Ford!" cried Laddie and Vi together, just as twins often do.
"Yes, I'm Grandpa Ford!" said the old gentleman, smiling and kissing the children one after the other. "You didn't expect to see me, did you?"
"Hardly so soon," said Mrs. Bunker. "But we are glad! Have you been here long?"
"No, not very. I came on a day sooner than I expected, and as I knew from your letters that you would be home to-day, I came here to wait for you."
"I'll get the house open right away and make you a cup of tea," said Mrs. Bunker. "You must be tired."
"Oh, no, not very. I had a nice little nap in the chair on your shady porch. Well, how are you all?"
"Fine," answered Mr. Bunker. "You look well, Father!"
"I am well."
"Do you know any riddles?" asked Laddie.
"Do I know any riddles, little man? Well, I don't know. I might think of one."
"I know one," went on Laddie, not stopping to hear what his grandfather might say. "It's about which would you rather be, a door or a window?"
"Which would I rather be, a door or a window?" asked Grandpa Ford with a laugh. "Well, I don't know that there is much difference, Laddie."
"Oh, yes, there is!" exclaimed the little fellow. "I'd rather be a door, 'cause a window always has a pane in it! Ha! Ha!"
"Well, that's pretty good," said Grandpa Ford with a smile. "I see you haven't forgotten your riddles, Laddie."
"Now you ask me one," said the little boy. "I like to guess riddles."