Suddenly Mun Bun saw where the pleasant colored man was about to step. He cried out:
"Oh, don't! Look out! All our puddin' dishes!"
"What's that, little boy?" demanded the porter.
"Look out! You'll splash——"
Margy tried to warn him too. But she was too late. The porter stepped right into the first of the filled waxed-paper cups, and then went plowing on, almost falling over them!
"My haid and body!" gasped the porter, stumbling on until he had overturned and stepped on the complete array of waxed-paper cups. "What you chilluns been a-doin' here, eh?"
"Now you spilled 'em," cried Mun Bun. "Look, Margy, how he's spilled 'em."
There could be no doubt of that fact. The passage was a-flood with ice-water! The porter was sputtering, and the two children were inclined to be somewhat tearful when Daddy Bunker came along to see what they were up to.
"These yere pestiferous chilluns!" exclaimed the colored man, trying to mop up the flood. "And dem cups was near 'nough to las' me clear to Texas."
"All right—all right, Sam!" rejoined Daddy Bunker, giving the colored man a generous tip. "You get some more cups and some more ice, and call it square. I expect I'd better tie a halter to each one of my children for the rest of the journey so as to keep track of them. I can't trust them out of my sight any more."