He heard an answer and put his hand to his ear to hear more clearly.

"'Llo, Toyman, 'llo, Toyman!" came the mocking answer, faint and
far-away.

But it wasn't the Toyman. It was Echo, calling back from the hills.

Marmaduke had always wanted to meet Echo, but so far he never had. He
thought she must be something like the Star-Lady, whom he _had_
met, only not quite so bright. Her voice sounded a little sadder, too,
like the Bluebird's in the Fall when he says "Goodbye" to the fields
and flies to the South. Often he had run after Echo, but he never
could catch up with her, nor even see a glimpse of her silver and
green dress. She always played Hide-and-Seek with him, and he was
always "it."

However, he didn't worry long about friend Echo this morning. He was
thinking of the Toyman. For the Toyman's face had looked worried--far
away and sad. It had _looked_ somehow as Echo's voice always
_sounded_. What was it Mother had said? "Poor Frank!"--that's
what she called him; "he's in trouble," she had whispered to Father.

Marmaduke didn't know what he could do, but he wanted to catch up with
him, and put his hand in his, and tell him not to worry at all, and
say, if he needed money he could have all there was in Marmaduke's
bank--every last penny, even the bright ones.

Across the road a big jack-rabbit jumped--jumped
_sping--sping--sping_--like a toy animal made of steel springs.
Wienerwurst ran after the rabbit, but his master didn't stop to chase