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“What’ll I do?” asked Jehosophat.

“Just roll your marbles under this bridge, and if they go through the little holes, you can keep ’em. If they don’t, they’re mine.”

The two boys didn’t see through the trick, and very foolishly they thought they might win some of their beautiful marbles back.

So they rolled marble after marble against that little wooden bridge. But it was much harder to aim straight than they had expected. More marbles would hit against the wood and bounce back than ever went through the little holes. And when this strange new game was ended Fatty had fifty-two marbles and they each had four!

Then Fatty walked off.

“Nice game,” he said, “I’ll come tomorrow.”

But the boys didn’t second that or give him any warm invitation like saying, “yes, and stay a week.” They spoke never a word–just looked and listened–looked at the few marbles left in their own hands, and listened to the “chink, chink, chink” of Fatty’s pockets as he walked down the drive.

They were very solemn around the table that night, and though Mother knew there must be something the matter, she didn’t ask any questions yet. However, Marmaduke kept reaching down into his pockets so often, to feel the lonely little marbles he had left,–the one agate, and the croaker, and the little gray mig, and the clink of them sounded so weak and thin and lonesome that Father said,–

“Well, how did the game go today?”

“F-f-f-fine,” said Marmaduke, but his lip quivered.

Then they knew there surely must be something the matter, and Marmaduke couldn’t help saying,–

“That ole Fatty Hamm said he was playing ‘for keeps,’ and he took away almost all our marbles.”

“Humph!” exclaimed Father, and Mother looked at him with an odd look.

“I’m sorry it happened,” she said, “but I’m glad, too.”

Jehosophat exclaimed:

“Glad we lost our marbles?”

“Not exactly, dear, but I knew it would happen. You see, as the Toyman said, it’s always kinder and more fun, too, to play games ‘in fun.’ If you play anything ‘for keeps,’ the one who loses is always hurt and feels badly. Supposing you had played with Johnny Cricket, now, and had won all his marbles–how would you feel?”

She didn’t need to say any more. They understood.

But after supper the Toyman called the boys into the woodshed. They sneaked out quietly and he whispered to them,–

“Just wait till tomorrow.”

“What’s going to happen tomorrow?”

And the Toyman gave that old answer of his which was so like him,–

“Wait an’ see.”

Well, the Toyman had to go to town “tomorrow,” which was much sooner than he had expected earlier in the week. And when he came back his pockets chinked right merrily. They were as full of marbles as on his first trip back from town.

They were very beautiful, too, but somehow Marmaduke loved the first blue croaker and the bright agate and the little gray mig best of all.