lies."

He was hopeless. He was forever making queer answers and queerer
rhymes which Miss Prue Parsons the school teacher didn't at all
approve. But Father said it didn't hurt the children as far as he
could see--it just entertained them.

So the Toyman was answering:

_"Ask me no questions an' I'll tell you no lies;
Gooseberries are sour but make very sweet pies."_

The boys had to be content with that information, but it was very hard
waiting.

There came a day when it rained, and the Toyman couldn't work in the
fields, or paint the house, or mend the leaks in the roof of the barn.
Of course, he might have fixed Old Methusaleh's harness, which badly
needed repairs, but he looked at the sky and said,--

"It looks like snow. I ought to get at that--"

Then he bit his lip and the secret was still safe.

Very mysteriously he unlocked the door of his workshop. And the boys
peeked in.

"Where's your ticket, Sonny?" he asked, seeing their two heads in the
doorway. That was his way, you see, making a game out of everything.