where that nice cook lives. Let's go and ask her."

But just as they were going to squeeze out of the low door of the little
house they heard a great shouting and calling, and then suddenly the
snapping of explosive crackers--fire crackers--began!

"Oh!" gasped Mun Bun. "Who's shootin'?"

"It's firecrackers. You know, we've had 'em before. And they are in a
barrel," said Margy breathlessly.

Through the doorway of the little house in which they had set up the
"Christmas tree" the two saw their brothers and sisters, the Armatage
children, and a lot of the little negroes dancing about a barrel a
little way down the hill. Margy was right. Into that barrel somebody had
thrown a lighted bunch of firecrackers--about the safest way in which
those noisy and delightful "snappers" can be exploded.

And what a noise they made! Mun Bun and Margy almost forgot their own
play for the moment as they struggled to see which should first go out
of the door of the little house. Getting in each other's way, they were
delayed and before they could get out a great dog came bounding toward
them.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" squealed Margy, and shrank back, leaving to Mun Bun the
opportunity of getting out if he wanted to.

"I'm not afraid of that dog," said Mun Bun. But, just the same, he did
not go out when he might have done so. "He isn't as big as Aunt Jo's
Alexis, is he, Margy?"