WHEN CHRISTMAS IS FOURTH OF JULY
Mun Bun and Margy were too little always to accompany the older children
on their rambles; but the two smallest Bunkers could be trusted to
invent plays of their own when they might be left out of the older one's
parties. They had long since learned not to feel slighted if Mother
Bunker decided that they were to stay near her.
There was sufficient mystery and expectation regarding the coming
holiday celebrations at the Meiggs Plantation to excite the little folks
in any case. There was to be no Christmas tree such as the Bunkers had
had the previous Christmas in the North. Both Mun Bun and Margy could
remember that tree very clearly.
But there was quite as much hiding of funny shaped packages until the
gift day should arrive, and the house was being decorated, inside and
out, for the coming celebration. Mun Bun and Margy watched the servants
hanging Christmas greens and mistletoe, although, unlike the older
little Bunkers, they could not go into the swamps with the men to gather
these greens.
"We just ought to have a Christmas tree of our own," Margy said to Mun
Bun. "I know where we can get a tree, and we'll beg some wreaths and
trimming from that nice colored man there."
"We can't," said Mun Bun, somewhat despondently. "We isn't got a house
to put the tree in. And we had the Christmas tree last time in the
house."
"I've found a house," whispered Margy. "But don't you tell anybody."
"Not even tell Muvver?" asked Mun Bun, looking almost scared. Yet the
idea of a secret delighted him too.
"Not till we get it all done. Then we will show her how fine it is,"
said Margy.
"Where is your house?" asked Mun Bun.
"You come along and I'll show you. I found it all by myself."
She led Mun Bun by the hand out behind the big house and toward the
quarters. In a sheltered place, behind a hedge, was a little house, sure
enough. And it was not so very little after all, for when they went into
it they could both stand upright.
"There isn't any window," said Mun Bun. "This isn't a regular house."
"Of course, it's a house," Margy declared. "It's got a doorway, and----"
"It hasn't got any door, just the same," said Mun Bun, who might have
liked the house better if he had found it himself.
"We don't need a door. We want it open so the big folks can see our tree
when we get it trimmed."
"Where is the tree?" demanded the still doubtful little boy.
"Now, Mun Bun!" exclaimed Margy, "do you want to play at fixing this
Christmas tree, or don't you?"
"Oh, yes," said Mun Bun, who did not really want to be left out of any
fun, even if he did not think of it first himself. "Show me the tree,
Margy."
"Of course I will," said his sister. "You must help me get it and carry
it in here."
"Come on," urged the little boy. "Let's."
So then Margy showed him where the tree she had found stood in a green
tub outside the door of a small house that was almost all glass. The
lower panes of glass in this house were whitewashed, so the children
could not see what was in it; but this tree with its thick, glossy
leaves seemed to have been left out for anybody to take who wanted it.
They had to tug pretty hard to get the tree out of the tub. As Margy
said, they didn't want the tub anyway, for it would take up too much
room. And they were not strong enough to move it.
But they got the tree uprooted, and then were able to carry it to the
little house that Margy had selected as their own private dwelling for
the play celebration.
By dragging the tree inside, roots first, they managed to get it in
without breaking off any of the glossy leaves. They stood it upright and
made it steady by placing some bricks that they found about the roots.
Its top reached the roof of the little house.
They begged some broken wreaths and chains of evergreen and even a
spray of mistletoe with berries on it. The workmen were very kind to the
smallest Bunkers. Mun Bun grew quite as excited and enthusiastic as
Margy. They worked hard to trim that tree.
"But it hasn't any lights," said Mun Bun sadly. "And that other
Christmas tree had lights."
You see, he remembered very clearly about that. And when Mun Bun played
he always wanted the play to be as real as possible.
"We'll get candles," declared Margy. "I saw candles in the kitchen house
where that nice cook lives. Let's go and ask her."
But just as they were going to squeeze out of the low door of the little
house they heard a great shouting and calling, and then suddenly the
snapping of explosive crackers--fire crackers--began!
"Oh!" gasped Mun Bun. "Who's shootin'?"
"It's firecrackers. You know, we've had 'em before. And they are in a
barrel," said Margy breathlessly.
Through the doorway of the little house in which they had set up the
"Christmas tree" the two saw their brothers and sisters, the Armatage
children, and a lot of the little negroes dancing about a barrel a
little way down the hill. Margy was right. Into that barrel somebody had
thrown a lighted bunch of firecrackers--about the safest way in which
those noisy and delightful "snappers" can be exploded.
And what a noise they made! Mun Bun and Margy almost forgot their own
play for the moment as they struggled to see which should first go out
of the door of the little house. Getting in each other's way, they were
delayed and before they could get out a great dog came bounding toward
them.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" squealed Margy, and shrank back, leaving to Mun Bun the
opportunity of getting out if he wanted to.
"I'm not afraid of that dog," said Mun Bun. But, just the same, he did
not go out when he might have done so. "He isn't as big as Aunt Jo's
Alexis, is he, Margy?"
"But we aren't acquainted with him like we were with Alexis," whispered
the little girl.
She knew his name was Bobo. But always before when she had seen him the
great hound, with his flappy ears and wide mouth, had been chained.
"Do--do you suppose he'll want to bite us?" quavered Mun Bun, admitting
now that he was afraid of the dog. "And what does he want here in our
house, Margy?"
Margy suddenly remembered that when she had seen Bobo before he had been
chained right at this little house. Maybe it was his house, although it
was bigger than any doghouse she had ever seen before.
"We don't want him in here," cried Mun Bun. "There isn't any room for
him." Then he cried to the big hound: "Go 'way! You'll spoil our
Christmas tree."
The big hound came nearer, but more quietly. His eyes were red, and he
sniffed enquiringly at the doorway while the children crowded back
against the tree. Perhaps he was the very kindest dog in the world; but
to Mun Bun and Margy he appeared to be dreadfully savage!
"Go 'way!" they shouted in chorus. And Mun Bun added again: "We don't
want him in here, do we, Margy?"
The dog seemed determined to thrust himself into the house. Perhaps
Bobo felt about Mun Bun and Margy as they did about him--that they had
no right there, and he wanted them to get out. And when he put his great
head and shoulders into the doorway the little Bunkers began to shriek
at the top of their voices.
Even the snapping firecrackers could not drown their voices now. Russ
and Rose heard the cries coming from the doghouse, and they knew Mun Bun
and Margy were in trouble. They saw Bobo, who had been with them to the
swamp, seemingly stuck half way in the doorway of his kennel, and Russ
cried:
"I guess that's where they are. Hear 'em, Rose? Come on, save Mun Bun
and Margy."
"I'm afraid of that hound," replied Rose, but she followed her brother
just the same.
Russ shouted to the dog. The hound backed out and looked around at Russ
Bunker. But his red eyes did not scare the boy.
"We're coming, Mun Bun!" Russ shouted. "We're coming, Margy!"
The two little ones appeared at the door of the kennel. They were not
crying much, but they had tight hold of each other's hands.
"Russ! Rose!" cried Margy. "Take us out."
"What are you doing in that dog's kennel?" demanded Rose.
"Playing Christmas," said Margy, with quivering voice.
"I guess it isn't Christmas," said Mun Bun doubtfully. "I guess it's
Fourth of July. Isn't it, Russ? They don't have shooters only on the
Fourth of July."
"They do down here," said Russ, reaching the kennel and looking in while
Bobo stood by as though he still wondered why Mun Bun and Margy had
tried to turn him out of his house.
Just then one of the colored men, who was a gardener, came along and
stooped to look into the kennel too.
"For de lan's sake!" he cried, "what you childern doin' in dat dog
kennel?"
"We--we were playing Christmas tree," said Margy, grabbing hold of
Rose's hand.
"For de lan's sake!" repeated the man, showing the whites of his eyes in
a most astonishing way. "What dat in dere?"
"That's our Christmas tree," said Mun Bun, very bravely now.
"For de lan's sake!" ejaculated the man for a third time. "What Mistah
Armatage gwine to say now? Dat's his bestest rubber plant what he tol'
me to take partic'lar care of. What will you lil' w'ite childern be up
to next, I'm a-wondering?"