FullReads

It is odd about Grownups–how mistaken they can be, how sadly mistaken. Now for instance, they will insist there are only four seasons when, as every one who has lived in Boyland knows, there are scores more than that.

There’s

Sled-time;
Ball-time;
Marble-time;
Top-time;
Kite-time;
Garden-time;
Hay-time;
Harvest-time;
Grape-time;
Nut-time;
Pumpkin-Pie-time;
and
a time
for

Hunting strawberries, elderberries, or red rasps; for orioles to move, for shad to run, and to go bobbin’ for eels; and a whole lot of other famous seasons as well, all happy ones, and too many to count, at least on one set of fingers and toes.

Any American boy will tell you this and–what is more to the point–prove it, too. And so can the Toyman, for, though he is six feet tall, and wears suspenders and long pants, and shaves and all that, he can get down on his knees in the good old brown earth and cry, “Knuckles down!,” with the youngest.

Well, then, it was–not Spring, as the grownups would say–but Marble-time–midway between Kite-time and the Time for Red Strawberries, which comes in June.

One day, at the very beginning of this sunny season, the Toyman came back from town. And as usual the children gathered around him. There was no delay, no dilly-dallying, as there was when kindlings were called for. It was funny to see how quickly they could gather when they heard the wheels come up the drive. Somehow their particular creak was different from that of any other wheels–and the children could tell it long before ever the wagon came in sight.

When they were younger, the children used to ask a question just as the reins fell over the dashboard and the Toyman jumped to the ground.

“What have you got for me, Toyman?” it always was.

But not now, for Mother had explained it was very bad manners. And Jehosophat and Marmaduke were trying hard to be “Little Gentlemen,” and to show Hepzebiah a “Good Example.”

Of course, just as Mother had expected, when she suggested all this, Marmaduke asked,–

“But how can a girl be a Little Gentleman?”

Mother made it clear.

“Well hardly,” she said, “we wouldn’t want her to be just that, but by being a Little Gentleman you can teach her to be a Little Lady.”

It was hard sometimes, and once in a while the boys didn’t think the Little Gentleman game quite so attractive. However, they remembered it pretty well, considering. And today they didn’t ask any rude questions, but just waited, though they danced on their toes.

This time he led them all into the kitchen without saying a word.

And then!!!–one after another he took from his pockets little round things–marbles, of course, of all sorts and sizes and colors.

“My!” exclaimed Marmaduke, “there’s most a hundred.”

And there was, sixty, to be exact. Twenty-seven little ones, colored like clay; six big ones of brown, with spots on them like the dapplings on horses; and six of blue dappled the same way; nine big glass ones with pink and blue streaks like the colorings in Mother’s marble cake; nine made of china; and three–one for each–of the beautiful agates–one of dark red and cream, one dark blue and cream, and one that was mostly pink.

“Now,” said Mother, when he had tumbled all the beautiful marbles out on the table, “you’ve got me in trouble, Frank.”

But she didn’t mean that. No, indeed. It was all said in fun. They said so many things in fun in the White House with the Green Blinds by the Side of the Road. So she got out her needle and thread, some pieces of flannel, and began.

She made three little bags, each with draw strings. On one she sewed a red J; on the second a blue M; on the third a pink H. You can probably guess for whom each was meant.