I have to chase 'em out with a broom sometimes when I go down
there. And they eat her pretty near up alive!"
Even the smaller Bunkers knew that this was a figure of speech. The
grandchildren did not actually eat Mammy June, although they might clean
her cupboard as bare as that of Old Mother Hubbard.
They followed a winding, grass-grown cart path for nearly half a mile
before coming to Mammy June's house. The way was sloping to the border
of a "branch" or small stream--a very pretty brook indeed that burbled
over stones in some places and then had long stretches of quiet pools
where Frane, Junior, told Russ and Laddie that there were many
fish--"big fellows."
"I'll get a string and a bent pin and fish for them," said Laddie
confidently. "I fished that way in the brook at Pineville."
"Huh!" said Frane Armatage, Junior, in scorn. "One of these fish here
would swallow your pin and line and haul you in."
"Oh!" gasped Vi, with big eyes. "What for?"
"No, the fish wouldn't!" declared Laddie promptly.
"Yes, it would. And swallow you, too."
"No, the fish wouldn't," repeated Laddie, "for I'd let go just as soon
as it began to tug."
"Smartie!" said Phillis to her brother. "You can't fool these Bunker
boys. Let Laddie alone."
Of course the troop of white children, walking down the cart path to
Mammy June's, was followed by a troop of colored children.
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