Peter Poodle, Toy Maker to the King

The First Chapter.

In which is told of a little Lad that came from out the Hills. Also of Peter Poodle’s wonderful Toy Shop. And how Helen had a Playfellow.

Tommy stood with his little nose pressed flat against the pane. He was very tired, and also very hungry, for he had walked ever and ever so far. How far, he did not know. At first, he had thought it would take only a day to reach the city, and now, he could not remember how long it had taken. A good many days, of that he was certain.

Over hills and through fields and forests he had travelled, sleeping at night in the lee of some rick of hay, or on the soft moss beneath low hung fir boughs. Sometimes, a shepherd or a forester had shared with him his simple fare of bread and cheese. At other times, he ate berries, or such of the wild fruits as were then ripe, and once, or {4} twice, he had gone to sleep hungry. But here he was, at last, in the big city and before the most wonderful window into which a boy ever looked. It was evening, and the window, with its bright lights, seemed like a bit of fairyland, for in it were all manner of the finest games and toys imaginable.

Tommy did not know that this was Mr. Peter Poodle’s famous toy shop. He did not even know the toys were for sale. He had never been in a big city and knew nothing about stores. He thought this was merely somebody’s fine house, and when he lifted his eyes from the toys and saw a big card that hung beneath one of the lamps, he was more than ever filled with wonder.

“BOY WANTED!”

Those were the words on the card. Tommy spelled the letters twice to make sure; “I suppose the people inside must be lonely,” he thought “I will go in and visit them, and perhaps they will tell me how to find the King.”

Mr. Poodle, a kindly little man with gray hair and bright twinkling eyes, answered the rap at the door.

“Please sir,” said Tommy, “do you live here and are you lonely? Because, if you are, I can come in and play with you; but by and by, I must go and find the King. Please, can you tell me where the King lives? Because the kind lady, who took care of me when I was sick, is very poor. Did you know that once I was very sick? When I was sick the kind lady told me all about the Fairy King. I am well now, and I am going to find the Fairy King and get some gold and jewels for the kind lady. Would you like me to come in and play with you a little while? I am too tired to play very much, because I have been walking all day. {5} And tonight, when I came through a dark street, a bad, rough man chased me, and I ran so fast that it made me more tired. Don’t you think I am a fast runner to get away from the man? Please, shall we play games now? Perhaps you don’t want to play with a little boy that has such raggedy clothes. Would you rather have a little boy that has fine clothes and wears shoes and stockings? I am sorry you are lonesome. I think you are a nice man and I like you; but perhaps you don’t want such a raggedy boy.”

The twinkling laughter had left the little man’s eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched when he tried to speak. Then he quickly stooped and held out both arms. “I do want a raggedy boy” were the words that came from his trembling lips, and the next second, Tommy’s curly head was nestling on the little man’s shoulder.

“What game shall we play now?” asked Mr. Poodle.

“I don’t know,” said Tommy. “Sometimes, when I was sick and the kind lady gave me bread and milk, she said we were playing dinner party. That is the only game I know how to play. Please, sir, shall we play dinner party?”

The twinkle came back again into Mr. Poodle’s eyes. “Yes, my boy, we will play dinner party,” he said. “I think dinner party is a fine game.”

Mr. Poodle now spread the cloth on the table. “O me, O my,” said he; “this cloth has a hole right in the corner! O, well, that is soon mended.” Then, what did he do but tear right off the whole corner. “There!” said he; “now we have a cloth without any hole.”

“Here is a pitcher of milk,” he added, as he sat it on the table; “and, here are two mugs. O dear, O dear, why this mug has no handle! Now how could that handle ever {6} have jumped right off the mug and we not see it! The first thing tomorrow, I must get a new handle.”

“Please, sir,” said Tommy, “the handle is gone from the pitcher, too.”

“No, you don’t mean to tell me that that handle also is gone?” said Mr. Poodle, taking the pitcher. “Yes, it certainly has. Now, how could that have happened? Oh, I know. Those two handles were lonely the same as I was lonely, and the mug handle said to the pitcher handle: Mr. Pitcher handle, you can stay in this house if you wish, but as for me, why was I trimmed all up with colored paint and made so handsome, if it wasn’t for some little boy; and now, there is no boy in this house, so I am just going to leave! Of course, then the pitcher handle thought he would be very lonely without the mug handle, and so they went away together.”

Tommy laughed merrily. “You are a very funny man,” he said. “Handles couldn’t say all that, but it was just a fine story. Please tell it to me again.”

“Well, if I tell all that again,” said Mr. Poodle, “why then our roast turkey will be getting cold.”

Tommy laughed gaily. “You certainly are a very funny man,” he said. “This isn’t roast turkey, this is bread!”

“Let me see,” said Mr. Poodle. “Well, so it is. Now, how could I ever have made such a silly mistake.”

“Never mind, sir,” said the boy. “I am sure the bread is very nice, and I just love milk. Can we play now?”

“Yes indeed,” answered Mr. Poodle.

When Tommy had eaten the bread and milk, Mr. Poodle took him in his arms to the big easy chair. “What shall we play now?” asked the toymaker. {7}

Tommy’s eyes were almost closed. “I don’t know,” he answered. “Please, sir, I am very sorry, because I wanted to play and make you happy, you are so kind to me, but I am pretty tired. If I could go to sleep for only a minute, then when I awake I would be all rested and could play some more. Please, may I go to sleep for only a minute?”

“Yes, indeed you may,” said the toymaker.

Tommy’s tired eyes looked timidly up into Mr. Poodle’s. “Please sir, may I kiss you for being so good to me?” he asked. {8}

Mr. Poodle bowed his head. “Good night, boy,” he said. “Good night, sir,” answered Tommy.

This was the manner in which Tommy Piper came to Peter Poodle’s toy shop. Who he was and from where he came, Mr. Poodle could not learn; only this much—that he had been found unconscious in the forest by a poor wood chopper, and tenderly nursed during a long illness by the wood chopper’s good wife.

As for Mr. Poodle, he was the kindest and jolliest little man you ever did see. His business was the making of toys for little girls and boys, and he had a fine big shop all littered with yellow, curly shavings, blocks of wood and bits of colored cloth. In this shop, the first thing the next morning, Tommy went to play.

He had on a nice new suit of clothes which Mr. Poodle had provided, and he was glad indeed to be dressed so finely, for right in the midst of the floor, sat a little girl.

“Good morning, Helen,” said Mr. Poodle.

“Good morning, Mr. Poodle,” Helen answered, and then turning to Tommy, she said: “Good morning, little boy.”

That was the beginning of good times in Peter Poodle’s work shop.