“I wonder if they have any Grandma Bell to go to?” asked Vi of her mother.

“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” was the answer, for Mrs. Bunker was busy reading, and hardly knew what she said.

“Are they going to our Grandma Bell’s?” asked Vi quickly.

“To our Grandma Bell’s?  No, I don’t suppose that!” exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, realizing that Vi was surprised.  “But they have some place to go.”

“I don’t believe they have any place as nice as our Grandma Bell’s house,” went on Vi.  “When’ll we get there, Mother?  Do you know?”

“Oh, not for a long while.  Now please don’t ask so many questions, Vi.  I want to read.  Look out of the window.”

Vi did for a little while.  Then she turned to her father and asked: 

“How many telegraph poles are there?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered.  Then, knowing that once Vi started to ask questions she would never stop, he bought her a picture book from the train boy.

“I want a book, too,” demanded Laddie.

“So do I,” said Margy.

“Here!  Give ’em each one!” exclaimed Mr. Bunker with a laugh.  “Maybe that will keep ’em quiet until bedtime.”

“I don’t want a book now, thank you,” said Rose.  “I’m going to get my doll to sleep.”  She had brought with her the largest doll she owned, almost as large, it was, as herself, and this she held in her arms as she sat in the seat away from the others, as the car was not crowded.

Five little Bunkers sat looking at the picture books Daddy Bunker had bought them.  Mr. and Mrs. Bunker were reading papers and Rose was getting her doll to “sleep.”  The doll did really shut its eyes, so Rose did not have to pretend very hard that her pet was soon in slumberland.

“Now I’m going to put her to bed,” she whispered, and, walking down to the end of the car ("where it’ll be quiet,” the little girl said to herself), she laid the doll, wrapped in a shawl, down in the deep corner of the seat.

The afternoon wore on.  The little Bunkers looked at their picture books—­taking turns—­and again gazed out of the window.  Rose thought her doll had slept long enough, so she walked down to the end of the car to get her pet.

The little girl came back with a bundle in her arms, and, sitting down beside her mother, began unwrapping the shawl.

And then something very queer happened.  There was a tiny little cry, and the bundle in Rose’s arms moved!  The little girl cried: 

“Oh, Mother, look!  Look, Mother!  My dollie has come alive!  It has turned into a real, live baby!  Look!  Oh, Mother!”

CHAPTER X

THE WRONG DADDY

Mrs. Bunker turned from her paper to look down at what Rose held in her arms.  And, to the surprise of the children’s mother, she saw that her little girl held, not a doll, that could open and close her eyes, but a real, live baby, which was kicking and squirming in its blankets, and wrinkling up its tiny face, making ready to cry.