Half-Past Seven Stories | Page 8

thought the Toyman wasn't looking. And Hepzebiah fell into the
snowdrift head first so that only her legs could be seen, and they were
kicking wildly in the air. Now the Toyman was busy untangling the
rope, which had gotten mixed with the steering-gear, and he hadn't
noticed Fatty and Reddy at their old tricks. But her two brothers pulled

her out of the drift by her little kicking legs, and brushed her off and
dried her tears. Then they went for Reddy and Fatty. Reddy ran away,
but Fatty stood his ground, for he was much bigger than they. They had
their fists clenched, and were going to punch him, very hard, I guess,
when the Toyman looked up from his work and called,--
"What's the trouble, son?"
The boys explained it, but they kept their fists clenched just the same.
They were rather excited, you see, and as soon as they were through
telling the Toyman all about it, they wanted to pitch into "that ole
Fatty."
But Fatty tried to lie out of it.
"She just fell herself," he said, half scared.
"She didn't, either," Jehosophat yelled, "he pushed her in." And he
started to rush for the fat boy when the Toyman called,--
"Hold on there, let me settle it."
He came over, and squinted his eyes thoughtfully like a judge, while
Fatty twisted and squirmed and squirmed and twisted.
"I wouldn't hit him," said the Toyman, "Fatty's so fat it wouldn't do any
good anyway. Your fists would only sink into him like dough. So I
guess you'd better wash his face in the snow--hard now."
So they did--very hard, as the Toyman had told them.
"Why, he's actually blubbering, the great big booby," said Jehosophat,
"shame!"
Now there's no word in the language in which boys and girls join more
readily than this same word "Shame." So they all took up the chorus,
everybody on that hill. You know that chorus, and your parents know it,
and your grandparents, and great grandparents, too, sang it, long, long
before you were born.

"Shame, shame, puddin' an' tame. Everybody knows your name."
What pudding has to do with it probably none in the whole world
knows. But it is a very effective song, and they one and all shouted it,
dancing around Fatty and Reddy, and laughing at them; and the fat boy
started to run away, yelling at the top of his lungs. But he stumbled
over the bobsled, and the tangled ropes caught his feet and started him
rolling down the hill. He didn't exactly roll, either, for he was so fat that
he seemed to bounce like a rubber ball; and little Wienerwurst, who
thought it all very fine sport, ran after him, nosing and snapping at him
all the way down that hill. Then, when he reached the bottom, coward
Fatty picked himself up and "made tracks" for home.
It was to--be sure, an odd sort of punishment that the Toyman ordered
for Fatty. It was just such things that made Mr. and Mrs. Hamm and all
the neighbors shake their heads over the Toyman and say he was crazy.
But Jehosophat, who had heard it said that Solomon was a wonderful
judge, knew one that could beat Solomon--and he was the Toyman.
Perhaps he was right. At all events, the children were ever so happy, as
they coasted down, down the hill on that big bobsled, which they did
till the stars came out, and, far over the fields, the supper bell sounded.

III
THE JOLLY ROGER
Marmaduke thought he knew now what it meant to be in jail. For three
whole days he had had to stay in the house. For three whole days and
nights, too, it had rained--"rained pitchforks." That is what Father said,
but Marmaduke could see nothing but prongs. There were thousands of
them, coming down through the air. Where were the handles? He
looked a long time, thinking that perhaps they had gotten loose from
the prongs and would come down afterwards, but never a handle came.
They must be having haying time, the folks in the sky, to use so many
forks, he decided, and the sun must be shining for them, way up above

the clouds, or they wouldn't have haying weather. But maybe, after all,
it was wet there, too, and they had just grown disgusted, and were
throwing their forks away, every last one of them.
Yes, it was pretty lonesome and dull, staying in the house like this. To
be sure, once in a while, when the rain slackened a little and the
pitchforks didn't come down so fast, he could put on his rubber boots
and go out to the barn. But for most of the time he had been a