"I never found any, if there is," was the answer. "But then I never had
much time to dig for it. You may, if you like. But now are you all
ready?"

"All ready, I think," said Mother Bunker. "Don't pick up any more stray
dogs or cats, Margy, my dear."

"This one came to me," said the little girl. "I loved him, I did, but
now he is gone."

However there was so much new to see and talk about down at the seashore
that Margy soon forgot about her little troubles. There were some
carriages and automobiles at the station, and, dividing themselves
between two of these, the Bunkers and Cousin Tom and his wife were soon
driving down toward the ocean, for Cousin Tom lived on a street not far
from the beach. He was the son of Mr. Ralph Bunker, who had been dead
some years, and Mr. Ralph Bunker was Daddy Bunker's brother. So the
children's father was Cousin Tom's uncle, you see.

"Did you have a nice trip?" asked Cousin Ruth, of Mrs. Bunker, as she
rode beside her in the automobile.

"Yes, very. Laddie thought a search-light was a thunderstorm, when we
were coming down on the Fall River boat, Margy crawled under a fruit
stand in New York to get a stray kitten, and Mun Bun got mixed up with
another little boy. But we are used to such things happening, and we
don't mind. I hope you will not be driven wild by the children."

"Oh, no, I love them!" said Cousin Ruth with a smile, as she looked over
at the six little Bunkers.