"THE TOP OF THE MORNING"
"The top o' the morning!"
That's what the Toyman used to say. And I am sure if you ever go to
the White House with the Green Blinds by the Side of the Road the
Toyman will say it still, whatever the weather.
And when you hear him call that over the fence so cheerily, from his
smile you will know at once what he means,--that he wishes for you the
_very_ top of the morning, not only the finest of weather, but
the best of happiness and fun, in whatever you do and wherever you go.
If you have read all about him in the _Seven O'Clock Stories_ you
will remember his name. Of course, it won't matter whether you've read
them or not--you can make his acquaintance at any time--but the sooner
the better, for, as all who know him will tell you, he's worth
knowing.
His name is Frank Clarke, but his real name isn't really as real as
the one the children gave him,--"the Toyman." For he is forever making
them things,--kites and tops, and sleds and boats, and jokes and
happiness and laughter.
His face is as brown as saddle leather, with a touch of apple red in
it from the sun. There are creases in it, too, because he laughs and
jokes so much. Sometimes when he appears to be solemn you want to
laugh most, for he's only pretending to be solemn. And, best of all,
if you hurt yourself, or if your pet doggie hurts himself, the Toyman
will know how to fix it, to "make it all well" again.
The Three Happy Children love him. That's what we always call them,
though they, too, have other names--funny ones, you will
think,--Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah Green, but they are
family names and came from some very old uncles and aunts.
They still live in the White House with the Green Blinds by the Side
of the Road--that is, when they aren't sliding down hill, or fishing
in the Pond, or riding on the hay, or to town with the Toyman and Ole
Methusaleh. Mother and Father are still there. Home wouldn't be home
without them. And they have many playmates and friends--of all
sorts--two-legged and four-legged, in serge and corduroy, in feathers
and fur.
[Illustration: "When they aren't riding on the hay, or to town with
the Toyman and Ole Methusaleh."]
What they all did, the fun they had, and the trouble they got in and
out of, you'll find if you turn these pages.
One thing more--a secret--in _absolute_ confidence,
though.--After all, it isn't really so _very_ necessary to read
these stories at _Half-Past Seven_. You can read them, or be read
to, "any ole time," as the Toyman used to say--Monday morning,
Thursday noon, or Saturday night--as long as it doesn't interfere with
those lessons.
Still, the very best time is at twilight in summer when the lights and
the fireflies begin to twinkle through the dusk, or in the winter
around the fire just before you go to bed--with Father or Mother--or
the Toyman.
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