t the boys!" said the muddy man. "Will they never be done with
disturbing the newts and me? Drat em, I say!"

"Who are you?" demanded Hugh, staring with all his might.

"Jerry I am, and this is my pond. Why can't you leave me in peace?"

"The wind took my cap," said Hugh.

"Finding's keepings," said the muddy man, taking the cap himself, "and
windfalls on this water is mine. So I'll keep your cap, and it's the
second wind's brought me this March. And if you're in want of another
you'd best go to where Wind lives and ask him for it, like t'other one.
But he said he'd ask for a toy farm instead."

"A toy farm?" shouted Hugh.

"Go away and don't deafen a body," said Jerry, and prepared to sink
again. But Hugh caught him by the hair and said fiercely, "Keep my cap
if you like, but I won't let you go until you tell me where my brother
went."

"Your brother was it?" growled the muddy man. "He went to High and
Over, dancing like a sunbeam."

"What's High and Over?"

"Where Wind lives."

"Where's that?"

"Find out," mumbled the muddy man; and he wriggled himself out of
Hugh's clutch and buried himself like a monstrous newt in the mud. And
though Hugh groped and fumbled shoulder-deep he could not feel a trace
of him.

"But," said he, "there's at least a name to go on." And he got out of
the pond and went in search of High and Over. And his brothers waited
in vain for his return. And the heaviness of four hearts was now
divided between three, and doubled because of another brother lost.

But on the first of April, which was Lionel's birthday, Lionel came
back. Or rather, Hobb found him in a valley north of his garden hill,
when he was wandering on one of his forlorn searches. And when he found
him Hobb could not believe his eyes. For the child was sitting in the
middle of the prettiest plaything in the world. It was a tiny farm,
covering perhaps a quarter of an acre, with minute barns and yards and
stables, and pigmy livestock in the little pastures, and hand-high
crops in the little meadows; and smoke came from the tiny chimney of
the farmhouse, and Lionel was drawing water from a well in a bucket the
size of a thimble. And all the colors were so bright and painted that
the little farmstead seemed to have been conceived of the gayest mind
on earth. But through his amazement Hobb had no thought except for the
child, and he ran calling him by his name, but Lionel never looked up.
And then Hobb lifted him in his a