The six little Bunkers amused themselves in different ways in the car, as the train puffed on, over hills and through valleys, to Grandpa Ford's home at Great Hedge. As Daddy Bunker had said, the clouds were gathering, and they seemed to hold snow, which might soon come down with a flurry.
"But it can't hurt us," said Mun Bun, "'cause we're in the train."
"I have a new riddle," announced Laddie, after a while.
"Have you?" asked Grandpa Ford. "Well, let's hear it. I'll try to guess it."
"Why is a train like a boy?" asked the little fellow.
"That's a funny riddle!" exclaimed Russ. "A train isn't like a boy at all. It's too big and it isn't alive."
"Well, it goes," said Laddie; "and anything that goes is almost alive, anyhow."
"Is that why you made a riddle about a train and boy?" asked Grandpa Ford. "A train is like a boy because it goes. Is that it, Laddie?"
"Nope! It's 'cause a train can whistle and so can a boy," said the little chap with a laugh. "Isn't that a good riddle?"
"A train doesn't whistle," declared Russ. "It's only the engine that whistles. Isn't that so, Grandpa?"