“Were Margy and Mun Bun up there?” asked Adam of Violet.
“Yes, they went up there to slide down. Hay’s slippery, you know,” answered Violet. “Course it isn’t as slippery as snow or ice, but you can slide down hill on a pile of hay.”
“I know,” chuckled Adam. “I often used to do it when I was a boy on the farm. But I don’t see the children now.”
“You can hear them—listen!” advised Violet.
Again came the voices of Mun Bun and Margy.
“We’re in the dark! We’re in the dark!” wailed Margy, who did not like dark places.
“An’ the hay tickles me, it does!” howled Mun Bun. “I don’t like the hay to tickle me! Vi! Vi! Come and get me!”
Violet climbed up a little ladder that led from the floor of the barn to the top of the haymow. The ladder went all the way to the roof of the barn, for in winter the haymow was piled that full. But now there was only a little hay in the mow. It rose a few feet over the head of Adam as he stood on the barn floor, and Violet did not have to climb up many rungs of the ladder to see over the top of the pile of hay.
“They aren’t here!” she called down to Adam. “I can’t see Margy or Mun Bun anywhere, but I can hear them. And I hear a hen cackling.”
“I guess a hen has her nest up there,” said the hired man.