enough,
and the glass bowl had fallen with a crash.

The cakes had scattered out, but, as Grandpa Ford had said, some of them
had fallen on a clean newspaper which some one had dropped on the depot
floor just before the accident.

Grandpa Ford, Daddy Bunker and Tom, the lunchman, picked up the clean
cakes and put them in another bowl. The broken pieces of the smashed
bowl and the cakes that had gone on the floor were also picked up.

"Well, now that we're all here, we might as well get the children
something to eat," said Grandpa Ford. "Tom can give them hot milk and
cakes, and we grown-folks can have some hot coffee to get us ready for
the ride out to Great Hedge. Tom, can you take care of this big family?"

"Oh, I guess so," was the answer, and the lunchman was not angry now,
for he saw he would lose nothing by what Mun Bun had done.

The six little Bunkers ate well, for the other five, as well as Mun Bun,
were hungry. Then, when the grown-ups had been fed, and the broken bowl
paid for, Grandpa Ford went out into the storm to tell his man, who was
in charge of the horses and sled, that the party was ready to start. The
horses had been kept waiting under a shed so they would be out of the
storm.

"Oh, that sounds just like Santa Claus!" cried Margy, as the sound of
jingling bells was heard outside the depot.

It seemed rather hard to leave the cosy, bright, warm station at that
hour of the night and start out into the darkness and storm. But the
children did not mind it. They were too eager to get to Great Hedge and
see Grandma Ford. That is, most of them were. Perhaps Mun Bun and Margy
were a bit too sleepy to care much what happened.

"But we can cuddle them down in the straw in the bottom of the sled,
cover them with blankets and let them go to sleep," said Grandpa Ford,
as he noted the blinking eyes of the two youngest Bunkers. "They'll go
to sleep and be at Great Hedge before they know it."

"How can you find it in the dark?" asked Vi.

"Oh, the horses know the way," answered the old gentleman. "Come on."

"I'm going to make up a riddle about a horse," began Laddie. "I have it
almost made up. It's about what kind of a tree would you like to drive."

"You can't drive a tree!" exclaimed Russ. "All you can do is to climb
it, or cut it down. So there!"

"Yes, you can!" insisted Laddie. "You can drive my riddle kind of tree."

"You can not! Can you, Mother?" appealed Russ. "You can climb a tree and
cut