All watched Daddy fishing for the doll.  The rake was not quite long enough, but by fastening a stick onto the handle it could be reached down far enough so the iron teeth caught in the doll’s dress, and up she came.

“Why—­why!” exclaimed Margy, “she isn’t wet at all.”

“No,” said Daddy Bunker, “she didn’t get down to the water.  If she had I don’t believe I could have gotten her up, as the well is very deep.  But don’t do it again, Margy.”

Rose took the doll, whose dress had been torn a little by the rake.

“I’ll make believe she’s had a terrible time and been sick,” said the little girl, “and I’ll give her bread pills.”

The rake was carried back to the kitchen garden, Daddy Bunker put on his coat, which he had taken off to get the doll up from the well, and then Grandma Bell brought some pails and baskets from the kitchen.

“What are we going to do?” asked Russ.

“We are going after berries,” his mother told him.

“Strawberries?” cried Laddie.

“Not this time,” said Grandma Bell.  “This time we are going to gather huckleberries.”

“Then you must be going to bake huckleberry pies!” exclaimed Daddy Bunker.

“Well, I’ll bake some if the children don’t eat more berries than they put in the pails and baskets,” said Grandma Bell, with a funny twinkle in her eyes.

“We won’t eat very many,” promised Russ.  “We’ll pick a lot of berries for the pies, won’t we, Laddie?”

“Sure we will!”

Off to the place where the huckleberries grew went the six little Bunkers, with their mother and their grandmother.

“And I’m coming, too,” said Daddy Bunker.  “I’m too fond of huckleberry pie to risk having all the berries go into the children’s mouths.  I’ll go along and pick some myself, then I’ll be sure of one pie at least.”

But the six little Bunkers were really very good.  Of course, I’m not saying they didn’t eat some berries.  You’d do that yourself, when they grew on bushes all around you.  But the children put into the pails and baskets so many that Grandma Bell said there would be a big pie for daddy, and several smaller ones for the children.

As the little party of berry pickers came back from the fields late that afternoon, Russ and Laddie, walking ahead, saw Zip, the dog, dragging along a piece of rope, fastened to a heavy bit of log.

“He’s terrible strong, Zip is,” said Laddie.  “Look at him pull that log.”

“Yes, he is strong,” agreed Russ.  And then he suddenly cried:  “Oh, I know what we can do!”

“What?” asked Laddie, always ready for anything.

“We can make a cart and have Zip pull us in it.  If grandma had a pony I guess she’d have a pony-cart, but she hasn’t, so we can make a dog-cart.”

“How can we do it?” asked Laddie.

“Well, you just take an old box—­we saw some of the kind I want down at the grocery store—­and you put wheels on it.”