"Why not?" asked Vi.

"'Cause there's so much red here. He wouldn't like it at all."

"Oh, I think he wouldn't mind strawberries," said Grandma Bell with a
laugh. "However, the next time we won't go through the ram's meadow. We
can go back another way. Now let's see who will get the most berries.
We'll take some home to Daddy Bunker!"

The children had lots of fun on the warm, sunny hillside, picking the
sweet, red, wild strawberries, but if Daddy Bunker had had to depend on
the six little Bunkers to bring him home some of the fruit he would have
got very few berries, I'm afraid. For the children ate more than they
picked. But then, one could hardly blame them, as the strawberries were
good.

However, Grandma Bell and Mother Bunker saved some for daddy, so he had a
chance to taste them, and he ate them at supper that night as he listened
to the story of the ram and Margy's red coat.

The next day, as Laddie, Russ and Rose were out in front of Grandma Bell's
house, playing under the trees, they saw a farmer going down the road with
a box under his arm.

"Do you suppose he's going after strawberries?" asked Rose.

"If he is we'd better tell him to look out for the old ram," remarked
Laddie.

"I will," said Russ. And then he called out loudly:

"Hey, Mr. Parker!" for that was the farmer's name. "Hey, Mr. Parker,
you'd better look out!"

"Look out for what?"

"For the old ram. He chased my grandma and my sister Margy yesterday,"
went on Russ. "But Margy had a red coat on."

"Well, I haven't anything red on," the farmer said with a laugh. "But I'm
much obliged to you for telling me. And, as it happens, I'm going right
where that old ram is."

"Oh, aren't you 'fraid?" asked Laddie.

"No," answered the farmer. "The ram will be glad to see me. You see, I'm
taking him and the sheep some salt," and he showed the children that he
had salt in the box under his arm. "I'm going to give my cattle some
salt," went on the farmer, "and Mr. Hixon, who owns the sheep, asked me to
salt them, too. So I'm going to. The ram will be so glad to see me with
the salt that he won't hurt me at all."

"It's funny sheep like salt," said Laddie.

"It is. But they do," said the farmer, as he went on down the road.

It was a little later that afternoon that Russ, who had been making a toy
sailboat, whistling merrily the while, wanted to go down to the lake to
sail it.

"Come on, Laddie!" he called. "Let's go to the lake to sail