iolet'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