“All aboard!  Here we go!” cried Laddie from down inside the barrel, and he began to hiss like steam coming from a pipe.  Then he began to rock to and fro, so that the barrel rolled from side to side.

“Here!  What’re you doing that for?” demanded Russ from up on top. “’You’re jiggling me off!  Stop it!  What’re you doing, Laddie?”

“I’m making the steamboat go!” was the answer.  “We’re out on the rough ocean and the steamboat’s got to rock!  Look at her rock!” and he swung the barrel to and fro faster than ever.

“Oh!  Oh!” cried Rose.  “It’s all coming apart!  Look!  Oh, dear!  The barrel’s all coming apart!”

And that’s just what happened!  In another moment the barrel on which Russ sat fell apart, and with a clatter and clash of staves he toppled in on Laddie.  Then the chairs, behind the barrel, where Rose, Vi and Margy and Mun were sitting, toppled over.  In another instant the whole steamboat load of children was all upset in the middle of the playroom floor, having made a crash that sounded throughout the house.

CHAPTER II

DADDY BUNKER’S WORRY

“Dear me!  What’s that?  What happened?” called Mother Bunker from the sitting-room downstairs.  “Is any one hurt, children?  What did you do?” she asked, as she stood, with some sewing in her hands, at the foot of the stairs, listening for some other noise to follow the crash.  She expected to hear crying.

“Is any one hurt?” she asked again.  She was somewhat used to noises.  One could not live in the house with the six little Bunkers and not hear noises.

“No’m, I guess nobody’s hurt,” answered Russ, as he climbed out from the wreck of the barrel.  “Get up,” he added to his brother Laddie.

“I can’t,” answered Laddie.  “My leg’s all twisted up in the soap-box.”  And so it was.  A box had been put on one of the chairs, and Mun Bun and Margy had been sitting on that.  This box had fallen on Laddie’s leg, which was twisted up inside it.

“But what happened?” asked Mother Bunker again.  “You really mustn’t make so much noise when you play.”

“We couldn’t help it, Mother,” said Rose, who, being the oldest girl, was quite a help around the house, though she was only seven years old.  “The steamboat turned over and broke all up, Mother,” she went on.

“The steamboat?” repeated Mrs. Bunker.

“I made one out of the flour-barrel you let me take,” explained Russ.  “But Laddie rocked inside it, and it all fell apart, and then the chairs fell on top of us and Mun and Vi and Margy all fell out and—­”

“Oh, my dears!  Some of you may be hurt!” cried Mrs. Bunker, as she heard a little sob from Mun Bun.  “I must come up and see what it is all about,” and, dropping her sewing, up the stairs she hurried.

There were six little Bunkers, as you have probably counted by this time.  Six little Bunkers, and they were such a jolly bunch of tots and had such good times, even if a make-believe steamboat did upset now and then, that I’m sure you’ll like to hear about them.