The children’s clothing had been packed in valises and trunks, and piled in the big auto truck which was filled with straw to make a comfortable resting place for the six little Bunkers on their forty-mile trip. As I have told you, the children and their father would ride in the big truck with Adam, and Mrs. Bunker would follow with Norah in the touring car, the children’s mother doing the driving. All was one grand excitement in the home of the six little Bunkers when the morning came on which they were to leave for the farm. Every one seemed to be talking at once, and certainly the children, Violet especially, never seemed to have asked so many questions before. Laddie, too, was on the alert. He was working on a new riddle. He spoke of it to Russ. “It’s about a tree,” said Laddie. “Oh, I know that old riddle,” Russ said. “You mean why is a tree like a dog? Because it has a bark.” “No, it isn’t that one,” Laddie said eagerly. “This is a new riddle. Now I have it! What’s the difference between a tree and a bird? Can you answer that?” “Let me see now,” murmured Russ, who wanted to please his little brother. “The difference between a bird and a tree. Well, one flies and the other doesn’t.” “Nope!” cried Laddie. “I’ll tell you. A tree leaves in the spring and a bird leaves in the fall. See what I mean? A tree leaves in the spring—the leaves come out. But a bird leaves in the fall. The bird leaves the North and flies down South where it’s warm.” “I don’t think that’s a very good riddle,” said Russ. “Well, maybe I can think of a better one after a while,” Laddie remarked cheerfully. He certainly was good-natured. Now that the time of going to the farm had arrived, Violet was eager to find out all about the animals. She fairly pestered Adam with wanting to know things. She asked: “How many chickens are there? How many cows? Did you ever count the bees?” “Count the bees? Good land, no!” laughed Adam. “There’s millions of ’em and they never keep still long enough to be counted. Besides, if I tried they might sting me.” “Well,” said Vi, “are there any——” “Violet, get in the truck and sit still,” ordered her mother firmly, and Violet obeyed. Everything was ready for the start. Mr. Bunker was counting the children and the trunks and the satchels, to make sure none was missing, when Rose asked: “Where’s Margy?” “Here she comes,” said Russ, as he noticed his little sister appearing around the corner of the house. “What in the world is she carrying?” asked Mr. Bunker. And well might he inquire. For Margy was half dragging half carrying a large pasteboard box which seemed alive, for it swayed from side to side and seemed about to leap away. “Margy, what have you there?” called her father. Before she could answer the box gave a sudden lurch to one side, Margy lost her balance, and down she went on the path in a heap, the box tumbling over and over as if it had suddenly come to life. What could it be? CHAPTER VI