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Of course Marmaduke grew well again, and back from Uncle Roger’s came Jehosophat and Hepzebiah. They came back in the old creaking buckboard with Methuselah the old, old white horse, and the Toyman.

No sooner had they jumped to the ground than Marmaduke asked, very proudly:

“Where do you think I’ve been?”

“You’ve been sick.”

Marmaduke shook his head.

“That’s not what I mean,” he said. “I’ve been to see the Old Man-in-the-Moon.”

“Now you’re telling stories” jeered Jehosophat. “You’ve just been in bed all the time.”

“I’m not telling any stories,” said his brother stoutly. “I tell you, I have been to visit the Old Man-in-the-Moon.”

But Jehosophat wouldn’t believe him.

“That’s a whopper,” said he.

Marmaduke turned to his friend, the Toyman.

“I have been there, haven’t I?”

“Where?” said the Toyman.

“To see the Old Man-in-the-Moon.”

“Of course you have,” his good old chum replied, “and a heap of wonderful things you saw.”

The Toyman never laughed at the wonderful things they had done, nor at the marvellous things they had seen–no never, for he understood little children.

Now Jehosophat had to believe him. He asked lots of questions, while Hepzebiah listened, her eyes growing as round as big peppermint drops.

So Marmaduke showed them the little red and blue sleigh, and told them all about the little driver, Jack Frost. And he didn’t forget about old Black-eyed Susan’s great jump, nor the gold pennies, either.

Jehosophat felt just a little jealous. Perhaps that is why he was naughty that day.

And this is how it all happened:

It was in the afternoon. Jehosophat was coming home from the schoolhouse, which was up the road about a mile, a long way from the White-House-with-the-Green-Blinds where the three happy children lived.

With him walked four of his friends–Sophy Soapstone and Sammy Soapstone, who lived on the farm by the Old Canal; Lizzie Fizzletree, who lived on the turnpike; and Fatty Hamm, who lived by the river road.

Sammy Soapstone had blue eyes and tow hair which stood up straight on his head. It was as stiff as the curry comb with which the Toyman brushed the horses. Sophy Soapstone had blue eyes, too, and two neat little pigtails down her back.

But Lizzie Fizzletree had black eyes and hair that stuck out in all directions. She had more safety-pins on her dress than a neat little girl should ever have. And her stockings were forever coming down.

Fatty Hamm was so round and so plump that he looked as if he had pillows under his clothes. And though he was only twelve he had two chins. Every once in a while he would eat so much that a button would pop off.

He was eating apples now.

One, two, three, four, five, he ate. He did not offer one to his friends, not even the core!

Another apple he took. That made six!

Pop went a button and–splash–it landed in a puddle of brown water.

For three days it had rained, washing the white snow away. The ruts in the road were full of these puddles, nice and brown and inviting.

Sammy’s eyes and Jehosophat’s eyes followed the button as it landed in the water, making little rings which grew larger all the time.

“Let’s slosh,” said Sammy.

“Let’s!” cried Lizzie Fizzletree, “it’s lots of fun, sloshin’.”

Into a big puddle marched Sammy Soapstone, and after him marched Lizzie and Sophy, and at the end of the procession waddled Fatty.

“Slop, slosh, slop, slosh,” they went through puddle after puddle.

Glorious fun it was. Showers of spray flew all over the road.

But Jehosophat walked on ahead in the middle of the road. Hadn’t his mother told him, particularly, not to get his feet wet?

“Come on in, it’s fine!” they all shouted at Jehosophat.

“Aw, come on!” Sammy Soapstone repeated, and Fatty called:

“‘Fraidcat!”

At that Jehosophat turned around. He just couldn’t stand being called “‘fraidcat.”

So slosh, slosh, into the biggest brown puddle he could find he went.

Slosh, slop, slop, slosh!

Over his rubber tops went the water. Fine and cool it felt.