d Rose again.

"Nonsense!" laughed Daddy Bunker. "What do you children know about
ghosts? There aren't such things. There never has been a ghost and never
will be one. That was the wind."

"Maybe it was," agreed Russ, who was not quite as ready as his sister
was to think of ghosts.

"Of course it was!" exclaimed Grandma Ford. "The wind often howls that
way in winter. And now come over where it's warmer, and I'll get you
all some bread and jam. You must be hungry, aren't you?"

"I am," said Mun Bun. "I went to get some cakes in the depot, and I----"

"Yes, and he pulled over the whole bowl full and it broke," said Margy,
interrupting Mun Bun's story. "And the man was awful mad!"

"But we ate the cakes, anyhow," added Mun Bun. "They fell on a paper and
most of 'em were clean. Have you got cakes, Grandma?"

"Bless your heart! Lots of 'em. But I don't believe cake will be good
for you at night; especially after you've had some, as you did at the
depot. But bread and jam and a glass of milk won't hurt you, and you
shall have that. Do any of the rest of you want anything to eat?"

"I do!" cried Vi. "Where do you keep your things to eat, Grandma? Have
you got a big pantry?"

"I guess Vi is afraid you won't have enough," laughed Mrs. Bunker.

"Oh, I laid in a big stock of food when I heard the six little Bunkers
were coming," said Grandpa Ford.

Neither Russ nor Rose said anything then about the ghost. But they saw
that their father and Grandpa Ford were talking together in one corner
of the room.

"Maybe they're talking about that," whispered Rose.

"Yes," agreed Russ, also in a whisper. "But let's get something to eat,
and then we can hunt by ourselves. You're not afraid, are you, Rose?"

"No. Are you?"

"I--I guess not! No, I'm not afraid," and Russ spoke more firmly now.
"It's so nice and light here I'm not a bit afraid," he went on.

Grandma Ford led the six little Bunkers out to the dining-room, where
the table was already set waiting for them. There seemed to be plenty of
bread and jam on it, and other things, too.

"Can't I tell my riddle now?" asked Laddie when they were all seated at
the table and had eaten something. "Don't you want to hear it,
Grandma?"

"Yes, of course I do, my dear. What is it?"

"What kind of a tree would you rather drive?" asked Laddie. "That's the
riddle. Russ says you can't drive a tree, that you can only climb it or
chop it down, or burn it up."

"And I said you could