“It is rather a large family,” said Mrs. Bunker. “I have two more boys.”
“My daddy’s in his office,” volunteered Violet, who was now satisfied that her doll, Esmeralda, was all right except for a little dirt.
“And Laddie and Mun Bun are digging a hole to China,” added Margy.
“Oh,” and again the man smiled.
“Are you looking for a Mr. Charles Bunker?” asked Mrs. Bunker.
“That’s the name, yes, ma’am,” the truck driver replied, glancing at a slip of paper in his hand. “I have a load of flowers for him.”
“Oh, flowers! Is that what’s on your auto?” cried Rose, for the sides of the truck were covered with canvas and it could not be seen what it was laden with. Without waiting for an answer, Rose hurried around to the rear. There she saw a number of pots of flowers and plants, and, being very fond of them, she reached up to pull nearer to her the pot closest to the end of the truck.
Perhaps the sudden stopping of the vehicle had made the pot unsteady, for, as Rose touched it, the pot was upset and rolled out of the truck toward the little girl.
“Oh! Oh!” cried Rose.
“What is the matter now?” asked Mrs. Bunker, going around to the rear of the truck. She was just in time to see a shower of brown earth from the pot splattering around Rose. The pot fell to the ground and was broken, the flower in it being knocked out.