waiter, losing his smile at last and
uttering a frightened shout, made a last desperate attempt to retain
both burdens.

"There he goes!" gasped Russ again.

"I guess he _is_ a soup juggler," declared Laddie, staring with all his
might. "He's got it!"

After all, the waiter showed wisdom in making his choice as long as a
choice had to be made. Even Daddy Bunker, when he could stop laughing,
voiced his approval. The tray and the viands on it flew every-which-way.
But the waiter caught the hot soup toureen in both hands. It was so hot
that he could only balance it first in one hand and then the other while
the train finished rounding that curve.

"My head an' body!" gasped the poor waiter. "I done circulated de
celery an' yo' watah glasses, suah 'nough. But I done save mos' of de
soup," and he set the toureen down with a thump in front of Daddy
Bunker.

The steward came running with a very angry countenance, and the people
who had been spattered by the water sputtered a good deal. But Daddy
Bunker, when he could recover from his laughter, interceded for the
"soup juggler," and the incident was passed off as an accident.

When daddy paid his bill and tipped the very much subdued waiter, Laddie
tugged at his father's sleeve and whispered:

"What is it, Son?" asked Mr. Bunker, stooping down to hear what the
little boy whispered.

"Ask him if he will juggle the soup again if we come in here to eat?"

But Mr. Bunker only laughed and herded his flock back into the other
car. The children, however, thought the incident very funny indeed, and
they hoped to see the juggling waiter again when they ate their next
meal in the dining car.

Mother Bunker had brought a nicely packed basket for supper (Nora
O'Grady had made the sandwiches and the cookies) and she sent daddy
into the buffet car for milk and tea.

"The children get just as hungry on the train as they do when they are
playing all day long out-of-doors," she told daddy. "But they must not
eat too much while we are traveling. And I have to shoo the candy boy
away every half hour."

The boy who sold magazines and candy interested Russ and Laddie very
much. Russ thought that he might become a "candy butcher" when he grew
up, although at first he had decided to be a locomotive engineer.

"It must be lots nicer to sell candy than to work an engine," Laddie
said. "You get your hands all oil in an engine."

"Where does the oil come from?" asked Vi, who had not as