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SIX LITTLE BUNKERS
AT MAMMY JUNE'S

BY LAURA LEE HOPE

AUTHOR OF "SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT GRANDMA BELL'S,"
"SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT COWBOY JACK'S," "THE
BOBBSEY TWINS SERIES," "THE BUNNY BROWN
SERIES," "THE OUTDOOR GIRLS 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

* * * * *

=THE BOBBSEY TWINS SERIES=

THE BOBBSEY TWINS
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE COUNTRY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE SEASHORE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SCHOOL
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SNOW LODGE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON A HOUSEBOAT
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT MEADOW BROOK
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT HOME
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN A GREAT CITY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON BLUEBERRY ISLAND
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON THE DEEP BLUE SEA
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN WASHINGTON
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE GREAT WEST
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CEDAR CAMP
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE COUNTY FAIR

* * * * *

=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

* * * * *

=THE OUTDOOR GIRLS SERIES=

(Eleven titles)

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

Copyright, 1922, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP

Six Little Bunkers at Mammy June's




CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE
I. AN ESKIMO IGLOO 1
II. THE SNOWMAN 12
III. UNCLE SAM'S NEPHEW 21
IV. DADDY'S NEWS 30
V. OFF FOR SUMMER SEAS 41
VI. THE SEA-EAGLE 51
VII. A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS 66
VIII. A GREAT DEAL OF EXCITEMENT 79
IX. RUSS'S SECRET 87
X. CHARLESTON AND THE FLEET 94
XI. THE MEIGGS PLANTATION 105
XII. MAMMY JUNE 117
XIII. THE CATFISH 127
XIV. MAMMY JUNE HELPS 136
XV. WHEN CHRISTMAS IS FOURTH OF JULY 146
XVI. A LETTER AND A BIG LIGHT 156
XVII. MAMMY JUNE IN PERIL 166
XVIII. THE TWINS IN TROUBLE 175
XIX. IN MAMMY JUNE'S ROOM 183
XX. GOOSEY-GOOSEY-GANDER 194
XXI. ROSE HAS AN IDEA 202
XXII. THE STRANGE CRY 210
XXIII. A FOUR-LEGGED GHOST 218
XXIV. AN EXCITING TIME 227
XXV. THAT PIGEON WING 235

[Illustration: MAMMY JUNE TREATS THE CHILDREN TO A "TAFFY PULL."
_Six Little Bunkers at Mammy Junes._ _Frontispiece_ - (_Page_ 142)]




SIX LITTLE BUNKERS AT MAMMY JUNE'S




CHAPTER I

AN ESKIMO IGLOO


"How could William get the croup that way?" Violet asked with much
emphasis.

Of course, Vi was always asking questions - so many questions, indeed,
that it was often impossible for her elders to answer them all; and
certainly Rose and Russ Bunker, who were putting together a "cut-up"
puzzle on the table, could not be bothered by Vi's insistence.

"I don't see how he could have got the croup that way," repeated the
smaller girl. There were six of the little Bunkers, and Vi and Laddie
were twins. She said to Laddie, who was looking on at the puzzle making:
"Do you know how William did it, Laddie?"

Laddie, whose real name wasn't "Laddie" at all, but Fillmore Bunker,
shook his head decidedly.

"I don't know," he told his twin sister. "Not unless it is a riddle:
'How did William get the croup?'"

"He hasn't got the croup," put in Rose, for just a moment giving the
twins her attention.

"Why - ee!" cried Vi. "Aunt Jo said he had!"

"She didn't," returned Rose rather shortly and not at all politely.

"She did so!" rejoined Vi instantly, for although she and Rose loved
each other very much they were not always in agreement. Vi's gray eyes
snapped she was so vexed. "Aunt Jo said that a window got broke in - in
the neu-ral-gi-a and William had to drive a long way yesterday and the
wind blew on him and he got the croup."

"Was that the way of it?" said Laddie, thoughtfully. "Wait a minute, Vi.
I've most got it - - "

"You're not going to have the croup!" declared his twin. "You never had
it! But I have had the croup, and I didn't catch it the way William
did."

"No-o," admitted Laddie. "But - but I'm catching a new riddle if you'd
only wait a minute for me to get it straight."

"Pooh!" said Vi. "Who cares anything about your old riddle? Br-r-r! it's
cold in this room. Maybe we'll all get the croup if we can't have a
better fire."

"It isn't the croup you mean, Vi," put in Rose again, but without
stopping to explain to her smaller sister where and how she was wrong
about William's illness.

"Say, Russ, why don't the steampipes hum any more?" broke in the voice
of Margy, the next to the very littlest Bunker, who was playing with
that latter very important person at one of the great windows
overlooking the street.

Russ chuckled. He had just put the very last crooked piece of the puzzle
into place.

"You don't expect to see humming birds in winter, do you, Margy?" he
asked.

"Just the same, winter is the time for steampipes to hum," said Rose,
shivering a little. "Oh! See! It's beginning to snow!"

"So 'tis," cried Russ, who was the oldest of the six. "Supposing it
should be a blizzard, Rose Bunker?"

"S'posing it should!" repeated his sister, quite as much excited as Russ
was at such a prospect.

"Buzzards fly and eat dead things. We saw 'em in Texas at Cowboy
Jack's," announced Laddie, forgetting his riddle-making for the moment.

"That is right, Laddie," agreed Rose kindly. "But we're not talking
about buzzards, but about blizzards. Blizzards are big snowstorms - bigger
than you ever remember, I guess."

"Oh!" said Laddie doubtfully. "Were we talking about - about blizzards?"

"No, we weren't!" exclaimed Vi, almost stamping her foot. "We were
talking about William's croup - - "

"He hasn't got the croup, I tell you, Vi," Rose said wearily.

"He has. Aunt Jo - - "

"In the first place," interrupted Rose quite decidedly, "only children
have croup. It isn't a grown-up disease."

This announcement silenced even Violet for the moment. She stared at
her older sister, round-eyed.

"Do - do diseases have to grow up, too?" she finally gasped.

"Oh, dear me, Vi Bunker!" exclaimed Rose, "I wish you didn't ask so many
questions."

"Why not?" promptly inquired the smaller girl.

"We-ell, it's so hard to answer them," Rose frankly admitted. "Diseases
don't grow up, I guess, but folks grow up and leave diseases like croup,
and measles, and chicken-pox, behind them."

"And cut fingers and bumps?" asked Laddie, who had almost forgotten the
riddle about William's croup that he was striving to make.

But Vi did not forget the croup. One could trust Vi never to forget
anything about which she once set out to gather information.

"But how did William catch the croup through a broken window in the
neu-ral-gi-a?" she demanded. "When I had croup I got my feet wet first."

"He hasn't got the croup!" Rose cried again, while Russ began to laugh
heartily.

"Oh, Vi!" Russ said, "you got it twisted. William caught cold driving
Aunt Jo's coupé with the window broken in it. He's got neuralgia from
that."

"And isn't there any croup about it?" Laddie demanded rather sadly.
"Then I'll have to start making my riddle all over again."

"Will that be awful hard to do, Laddie?" asked his twin. "Why! making
riddles must be worse than having neu-ral-gi-a - or croup."

"Well, it's harder," sighed her brother. "It's easy to catch - Oh! Oh!
Russ! Rose! I got it!"

"You haven't neuralgia, like poor William," announced Rose with
confidence.

"Listen!" announced the glowing Laddie. "What is it that's so easy to
catch but nobody runs after?"

"Huh! is that a riddle?" asked Russ.

"Course it's a riddle."

"A wubber ball," guessed Mun Bun, coming from the window against the
panes of which the snow was now beating rapidly.

"No," Laddie said.

"A coupé!" exclaimed Violet.

"Huh! No!" said her twin in disdain.

Margy asked if he meant a kittie. She had been chasing one all over the
house that morning while Russ and Rose had been to market with their
aunt, and she did not think a kitten easy to catch at all.

"'Tisn't anything with a tail or claws," crowed the delighted Laddie.

"I bet it's that neuralgia William's got," laughed Russ.

"No-o. It isn't just that," his smaller brother said.

"And you'd better not say 'bet,' Russ Bunker," advised Rose wisely. "You
know Aunt Jo says that's not nice."

"You just said it," Russ rejoined, grinning. "Twice."

"Oh, I never did!" cried his sister.

"Didn't you just say I'd 'better not say bet?'" demanded Russ. "Well,
then count 'em! 'Bet' out of 'better' is one, and 'bet' makes two - - "

"I never said it the way you did," began Rose, quite put out, when
Laddie began to clamor:

"Tell me my riddle! You can't - none of you. 'What is it that's so easy
to catch but nobody runs after?'"

"I don't know, Laddie," said Rose.

"I give it up," said Russ.

"Do you all give it up?" cried Laddie, almost dancing in his glee.

"What is it?" asked Vi.

"Why, the thing that's so easy to catch but nobody runs after, is a
cold!" announced her twin very proudly.

"And I'm so-o cold," announced Mun Bun, hanging to Rose's skirt while
the older ones laughed with Laddie. "Don't Aunt Jo ever have it warm in
her house - like it is at home?"

"Of course she does, Mun Bun," said Rose, quickly hugging the little
fellow. "But poor William is sick and nobody knows how to tend to the
heating plant as well as he does. And so - Why, Russ, Mun Bun is cold!
His hands are like ice."

"And so are my hands!" cried Margy, running hastily from the window.
"We've been trying to catch the snowflakes through the windowpane."

"No wonder your hands are cold," said Rose admonishingly.

Russ began to cast about in his ingenious mind for some means of getting
the younger children's attention off the discomfort of a room the
temperature of which was down to sixty. In one corner were two stacks of
sectional bookcases which Aunt Jo had just bought, but which had no
books in them and no glass fronts. Russ considered them for a moment,
and then looked all about the room.

"I tell you what," he said, slowly. "You know when they took us to the
Sportsman's Show last week at Mechanic's Hall? Don't you remember about
that Eskimo igloo that they had built of ice in the middle of the
skating pond? Let's build an igloo like that, and get into it and keep
warm."

"O-oo!" gasped Vi, "how can you do that?"

"Where will you get any ice?" Laddie demanded.

"Goodness! it's cold enough in here without bringing in ice," announced
Rose with confidence.

"We won't build the igloo of ice blocks," said Russ quite calmly. "But
we'll make believe it is ice."

"I'd rather do that," Laddie agreed. "For make-believe ice can't be so
wet and cold as real ice, can it?"

"What you going to make your make-believe ice out of, Russ?" demanded
Vi, the exceedingly practical.

Russ at once set them all to work, clearing the middle of the room and
bringing up hassocks and small benches and some other articles that
could be used in the construction of the indoor igloo. He brought the
sections of the new bookcase, one piece at a time.

Russ really exhibited some skill in building up the walls of the hut in
the middle of the floor. When it was completed it was rather a tight fit
for all six of the little Bunkers to squeeze inside, but they did it.
And the activities of building the igloo had warmed even Mun Bun.

"You know," said Rose thoughtfully, "Eskimos live in these igloos and
eat blubber, and don't go out at all while it is snowing, same as it
does now."

"Why don't they go out?" asked Vi.

"Because it is cold," said Russ.

"And why do they eat blubber?"

"Because they are hungry," said Rose.

"What's blubber, anyway?" asked the inquisitive one. "Is it like candy?"

"It's more like candles," answered Russ, laughing.

Just then Laddie kicked excitedly.

"I bet I can make another riddle!" he cried.

"Now, you see, Russ Bunker?" Rose admonished. "Laddie has got that word,
too."

"Hey, stop kicking, Laddie!" cried Russ.

But in his excitement the boy twin had put his foot right through the
wall of the igloo! At least, he had kicked one of the boxes out of place
and the whole structure began to wobble.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" shrieked Vi. "It's falling."

"Get Mun Bun out," gasped Rose, thinking first of all of the littlest
Bunker.

But just then the heaped up boxes came down with a crash and the six
little Bunkers were buried under the ruins of their "igloo."




CHAPTER II

THE SNOWMAN


A corner of one of the overturned bookcase sections struck Russ Bunker's
head with considerable force - actually cutting the skin and bringing
blood. Big as he was, the oldest Bunker yelled loudly.

Then, of course, everybody yelled. Quite a panic followed. When Aunt Jo
and Mother Bunker came running to the front room where all this had
taken place the Eskimo igloo looked very much like a pile of boxes with
a young earthquake at work beneath it!

"For the good land's sake!" gasped Aunt Jo, who usually was very
particular about her speech, but who on this occasion was startled into
an exclamation. "What is happening?"

"Get off my head, Vi!" wailed Laddie, from somewhere under the tottering
pile. "It's not to sit on."

"Oh! Oh!" cried Rose. "Russ is all bloody! Oh, dear!"

"I'm not cold any more," cried Mun Bun. "Let me out! I'll be good!"

But Russ Bunker was neither crying nor struggling. He was a good deal of
a man, for a nine-and-a-half-year-old boy. Being the oldest of the six
little Bunkers there were certain duties which fell to his lot, and he
understood that one of them was to keep cool when anything happened to
excite or frighten his brothers and sisters.

The whack he had got on the head, and even the trickle of blood down his
face, did not cause Russ to lose his head. No, indeed. He, and the other
little Bunkers, had been in innumerable scrapes before, and the wreck of
the Eskimo igloo was nothing provided Aunt Jo did not make a lot out of
it. It just crossed Russ' mind that he ought to have asked his aunt
before he used the sectional bookcases for building-blocks.

Naturally of an inventive turn of mind, Russ was constantly building new
things - make-believe houses, engines, automobiles, steamboats, and the
like - usually with a merry whistle on his lips, too. He was a cheerful
boy and almost always considered the safety and pleasure of his brothers
and sisters first.

In companionship with Rose, who was a year younger, the boy cared for
the other four little Bunkers so successfully that Mother Bunker and
Daddy Bunker were seldom troubled in their minds regarding any of the
children. Rose was a particularly helpful little girl, and assisted
Mother Bunker a good deal. She was a real little housewife.

Vi and Laddie, the twins, were both very active children - active with
their tongues as well as their bodies. Violet's inquisitiveness knew no
bounds. She wanted to know about every little thing that happened about
her. Daddy Bunker said he was sure she must ask questions in her sleep.
Laddie was an inveterate riddle-asker. He learned every riddle he heard;
and he tried to make up riddles about everything that happened.
Sometimes he was successful, and sometimes he was not. But he always
tried again, having a persevering temperament.

The smallest Bunkers - Margy, whose real name was Margaret, and Mun Bun,
whose real name was Monroe Ford - were quite as anxious to get out from
under the heap of boxes as the others. Mother Bunker and Aunt Jo ran to
their assistance, and soon the six were on their feet to be hugged and
scolded a little by both their mother and aunt.

"But they do get into such mischief all the time," sighed Mother Bunker.
"I shall be glad when Daddy gets back and decides what to do for the
winter. I don't know whether we shall go right back to Pineville or
not."

For it was in Pineville, Pennsylvania, that we first met the six little
Bunkers and in the first volume of this series went with them on a nice
vacation to Mother Bunker's mother. The book telling of this is called
"Six Little Bunkers at Grandma Bell's."

After that lovely visit in Maine the six little Bunkers had gone to stay
for a time with each of the following very delightful relatives and
friends: To Aunt Jo's in Boston, where they were now for a second visit
over the Thanksgiving holidays; to Cousin Tom's; to Grandpa Ford's; to
Uncle Fred's; to Captain Ben's; and last of all to Cowboy Jack's.

In that last book, "Six Little Bunkers at Cowboy Jack's," they had
enjoyed themselves so much that they were always talking about it. And
now, as Vi managed to crawl out from under the wreck of the Eskimo
igloo, she announced:

"That iggilyoo isn't half as nice to live in as Chief Black Bear's
wigwam was at Cowboy Jack's. You 'member that wigwam, Russ?"

"I remember it, all right," said Russ, rather ruefully touching the cut
above his temple and bringing away his finger again to look at the blood
upon it. "Say, is it going to keep right on bleeding, Mother?"

"Not for long," declared Mother Bunker. "But I think you were rightly
punished, Russ. Suppose the corner of the section had cut Mun Bun's
head?"

"I should have been awful sorry," admitted Russ. "I guess I didn't think
much, Mother. I was only trying to amuse 'em 'cause they were cold."

"It is cold in here, Amy. Don't scold the boy. See! The storm is getting
worse. I don't know what we shall do about the fire. Parker and Annie
don't seem to know what to do about the heater and I'm sure I don't.
Oh, dear!"

"B-r-rrr!" shivered Mother Bunker. "I am not fond of your New England
winters, Jo. I hope we shall go South - - "

"Oh, Mother!" cried Rose excitedly. "Shall we really go down South with
Daddy? Won't that be glorious?"

"I guess it's warm down there," said Laddie. "Or maybe the steampipes
hum."

"Do the steampipes hum down South?" asked Violet.

While the four older children were exceedingly interested in this new
proposal for excitement and adventure, Margy and Mun Bun had returned to
the great window that overlooked the street and the front steps. They
flattened their noses against the cold pane and stared down into the
driving snow. Within this short time, since the storm had begun,
everything was white and the few people passing in the street were like
snowmen, for the white flakes stuck to their coats and other wraps.

"Oh, see that man!" Margy cried to Mun Bun. "He almost fell down."

"He's not a man," said her little brother with confidence. "He's a boy."

"Oh! He's a black boy - a colored boy. That's right, so he is."

The figure in the snow stumbled along the sidewalk, clinging to the iron
railings. When he reached the steps of Aunt Jo's house he slipped down
upon the second step and seemed unable to get up again. His body sagged
against the iron railing post, and soon the snow began to heap on him
and about him.

"Oh!" gasped Margy. "He is a reg'lar snowman."

"He's a black snowman," said Mun Bun. "It must be freezing cold out
there, Margy."

"Of course it is. He'll turn into a nicicle if he stays there on the
steps," declared the little girl, with some anxiety.

"And he hasn't a coat and scarf like you and me," Mun Bun said. "Maybe
he hasn't any Grandma Bell to knit scarfs for him."

"I believe we ought to help him, Mun Bun," said Margy, decidedly. "We
have plenty of coats."

"And scarfs," agreed Mun Bun. "Let's."

So they immediately left the room quite unnoticed by the older people
in it. This is a remarkable fact. Whenever Margy and Mun Bun had
mischief in mind they never asked Mother about it. Now, why was that, do
you suppose?

The two little ones went swiftly downstairs into the front hall. Both
had coats and caps and scarfs hung on pegs in a little dressing-room
near the big door. They knew that they should not touch the outer
garments belonging to the older children; but they got their own wraps.

"Maybe he's too big for them," murmured Margy. "But I guess he can
squeeze into the coats - into one of them, anyway."

"Course he can," said Mun Bun. "Mine's a nawful warm coat. And that
black snowman isn't much bigger than I am, Margy."

"I don't know," said his sister slowly, for she was a little wiser than
Mun Bun about most things. "Open the door."

Mun Bun could do that. This was the inside door, and they stepped into
the vestibule. Pressing his face close to the glass of one of the outer
doors, Mun Bun stared down at the "black snowman" on the step.

"He's going to sleep in the snow," said the little boy. "I guess we've
got to wake him up, Margy."

He pounded on the glass with his fat fist. He knocked several times
before the figure below even moved. Then the colored boy, who was not
more than seventeen or eighteen, turned his head and looked up over his
shoulder at the faces of the two children in the vestibule.

He was covered with snow. His face, though moderately black as a usual
thing, was now gray with the cold. His black eyes, even, seemed faded.
He was scantily clad, and his whole body was trembling with the cold.

"Come up here!" cried Mun Bun, beckoning to the strange boy. "Come up
here!"

The boy in the snow seemed scarcely to understand. Or else he was so
cold and exhausted that he could not immediately get up from the step on
which he was sitting.




CHAPTER III

UNCLE SAM'S NEPHEW


The fluffy, sticky snowflakes gathered very fast upon the colored boy's
clothing. As Mun Bun had first announced, he looked like a snowman, only
his face was grayish-black.

He was slim, and when he finally stood up at the bottom of the house
steps, he seemed to waver just like a slim reed in the fierce wind that
drove the snowflakes against him. He hesitated, too. It seemed that he
scarcely knew whether it was best to mount the steps to Aunt Jo's front
door or not.

"Come up here!" cried Mun Bun again, and continued to beckon to him
through the glass of the outer door.

Margy held up her coat and cap, and beckoned to the boy also. He looked
much puzzled as he slowly climbed the steps. His lips moved and the
children knew he asked:

"What yo' want of me, child'en?"

Mun Bun tugged at the outer door eagerly, and finally it flew open. He
shouted in the face of the driving snow:

"Come in here, snowman. Come in here!"

"I ain't no snowman," drawled the colored boy. "But I sure is as cold as
a snowman could possibly be."

"It's warmer inside here than it is out there," Margy said. "Although
we're not any too warm. Our steampipes don't hum. But you come in."

"Yes," said Mun Bun, grabbing at the colored boy's cold, wet hand. "You
come in here. We have some coats and things you can put on so you won't
be cold."

"Ma goodness!" murmured the boy, staring at the garments the children
held out to him.

"You can wear 'em," said Margy. "We have more."

"You put on my coat," urged Mun Bun. "It's a boy's coat. You won't want


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