“And I’m going to take some fire-to’pedos!” exclaimed Laddie.  “I’m going to shoot ’em off for Fourth of July at grandma’s.”

Daddy Bunker shook his head.

“I think we’d better have our Fourth of July at home here, before we go,” he said.  “That will be next week, and we can go to Maine soon afterward.  Grandma Bell doesn’t like fire-crackers, anyhow.  We’ll shoot them off before we go.”

“Goody!” cried Laddie again.  Anything suited him as long as he could have fun.  “We’ll shoot sky-rockets, too.  What makes ’em be called sky-rockets?” he asked, “Do they go up to the sky?”

“You go and ask Jerry Simms about that,” suggested Mr. Bunker.  “Jerry can tell you how they shot signaling rockets in the army.  Trot along!”

Laddie was glad to do this.  He liked to hear Jerry talk.

“Maybe he’ll tell me a riddle about sky-rockets,” said the little fellow.

Russ sat down on the porch and began whittling some bits of wood with his knife.

“What are you making now, Russ?” asked his father, while Mrs. Bunker went in to see that Rose was setting the table right, and that Norah had started to get the meal.

“I’m making a wooden cannon to shoot fire-crackers,” the boy answered.  “You can put a fire-cracker in it and light it, and then it can’t hurt anybody.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Mr. Bunker, “You can’t be too careful about Fourth of July things.  I’ll be at home with you and the other children on that day, to see that you don’t get hurt.”

“Are you sure Grandma Bell wouldn’t like to have us bring some shooting things down to her?” asked Russ.

“Oh, yes, I am very sure,” answered his father with a laugh.  “Grandma Bell doesn’t like much noise.  We’ll have our Fourth before we go.”

“That’ll be fun!” said Russ, and he went on whittling at his cannon.  His father did not really believe the little boy could make one, but Russ was always doing something; either whistling or making some toy.

At supper they talked about the fun they would have at Grandma Bell’s.  It was quite a long trip in the train, and they would be all night in the cars.

“And that’ll be fun!” cried Russ.  “We can all of us sleep when the train is going along.”

“Can we, Daddy?” asked Laddie.  “Really?”

“Oh, yes, they have sleeping-cars,” said Mr. Bunker.

“Do the cars sleep?” asked Laddie, his eyes opening wide in surprise.  “Oh, that’s funny—­a sleeping-car.  And—­and——­Say! maybe I can think up a riddle about a sleeping-car,” he added.

“You’d better think about drinking your milk, and getting good and fat, with rosy cheeks, so Grandma Bell will like to kiss them,” said Mother Bunker with a laugh.  “Don’t think so much about riddles or sleeping-cars.”

“Maybe I can think of a riddle with a sleeping-car in it and some milk, too,” said Laddie.

“Perhaps you can!” laughed Daddy Bunker.  “A cow in a sleeping-car would do for that.”