"Of course you do," Rose told him. "And if mother lets us go——"
Mother did. As long as Tad was along and knew the way, she was sure nothing would happen to her little Bunkers. At least, nothing worse than usual. Something was always happening to them, she told daddy, whether they stayed at home or not.
"Don't go into the swamp, that is all," said Mother Bunker.
"I know a riddle about a swamp," said Laddie eagerly. "Why is a swamp like what we eat for breakfast?"
"Goodness!" cried Rose. "That can't be. I had an egg and two slices of bacon for breakfast, and that couldn't be anything like a swamp."
"But you ate something else," cried Laddie delightedly. "You ate mush. And isn't a swamp just like mush?"
"Huh! You wouldn't think so if you ever tasted swamp mud," said Tad.
"But I guess that is a pretty good riddle after all," Russ told the little boy kindly. "For the mush and the swamp are both soft."
"And—and mushy," said Margy. "I think that's a very nice riddle, Laddie. Why do we eat swamps for breakfast?"