“Do you know him, Daddy?” asked Rose.

“Maybe he is from your office,” said Laddie.

“Maybe he’s the old tramp lumberman that had your papers in the old coat, Daddy,” suggested Russ.

Mr. Bunker hurried down from the carriage, and walked up the steps.

As he did so the old man on the porch woke suddenly from his nap.  He sat up, looked at the Bunker family, now crowding up on the steps, and a kind smile spread over his face.

“Well, well!” he exclaimed.  “I got here ahead of you, I see!”

“Why, Father!” cried Mr. Bunker.

“Oh, it’s Grandpa Ford!” exclaimed Rose.

“Grandpa Ford!” fairly shouted Russ, dropping the valise he was carrying, and hurrying to be clasped in the old gentleman’s arms.

“Grandpa Ford!” cried Laddie and Vi together, just as twins often do.

“Yes, I’m Grandpa Ford!” said the old gentleman, smiling and kissing the children one after the other.  “You didn’t expect to see me, did you?”

“Hardly so soon,” said Mrs. Bunker.  “But we are glad!  Have you been here long?”

“No, not very.  I came on a day sooner than I expected, and as I knew from your letters that you would be home to-day, I came here to wait for you.”

“I’ll get the house open right away and make you a cup of tea,” said Mrs. Bunker.  “You must be tired.”

“Oh, no, not very.  I had a nice little nap in the chair on your shady porch.  Well, how are you all?”

“Fine,” answered Mr. Bunker.  “You look well, Father!”

“I am well.”

“Do you know any riddles?” asked Laddie.

“Do I know any riddles, little man?  Well, I don’t know.  I might think of one.”

“I know one,” went on Laddie, not stopping to hear what his grandfather might say.  “It’s about which would you rather be, a door or a window?”

“Which would I rather be, a door or a window?” asked Grandpa Ford with a laugh.  “Well, I don’t know that there is much difference, Laddie.”

“Oh, yes, there is!” exclaimed the little fellow.  “I’d rather be a door, ’cause a window always has a pane in it!  Ha!  Ha!”

“Well, that’s pretty good,” said Grandpa Ford with a smile.  “I see you haven’t forgotten your riddles, Laddie.”

“Now you ask me one,” said the little boy.  “I like to guess riddles.”

“Wait until Grandpa has had a cup of tea,” said Mrs. Bunker, who had opened the front door that had been locked so long.  “And then you can tell us, Father,” she went on, “why you had to come away from Great Hedge.  Is it something important?”

“Well, it’s something queer,” said Grandpa Ford.  “But I’ll tell you about it after a while.”

And while the Bunker home is being opened, after having been closed for a long vacation, I will explain to my new readers who the children are, and something about the other books in this series.

First, however, I’ll tell you why Daddy Bunker called Grandpa Ford “Father.”  You see Daddy Bunker’s real father had died many years before, and this was his stepfather.  Mr. Bunker’s mother had married a gentleman named Munroe Ford.