Not long after this the Toyman came out from Trennery's and climbed on the seat; and he and Marmaduke and Old Methusaleh jogged along towards home. All the way, Marmaduke couldn't help thinking of the three little men in their blue pajamas and their black pigtails; and he asked the Toyman a lot of questions, even more than you will find in his arithmetic, I guess, all about what those letters on the packages of shirts meant, and if the Chinamen braided their pigtails every night and morning just like girls, and if they really did eat "ole rats," and bird's-nest puddings, and all that.
The Toyman could hardly keep up with the questions; and he hadn't answered them all, either, by the time they reached the White House with the Green Blinds by the Side of the Road.
On the afternoon of that same day, Marmaduke was sitting like a hoptoad, watching the Toyman dig post-holes in the brook pasture. The sun shone so soft and warm, and the cedar posts smelled so nice and fragrant, that he began to feel drowsy. He didn't sit like a hoptoad any more, but lay on his elbow, and his head nodded--nodded----nodded.
Rather faintly he heard the Toyman say:
"Well, that's pretty deep. A little more, and I'd reach down into China."
The little boy rubbed his eyes and looked down into the deep brown hole.
"If you dug a little more," he asked, "would you really go down through the earth, all the way to China--where the Chinamen live?"
"Sure," replied the Toyman, who never liked to disappoint little boys.
"Then," said Marmaduke, "please dig a little more--for--I'd like--to see--where--the Chinamen--live--." His voice sounded very sleepy.
The Toyman dug another shovelful or two, and all the while the little boy's head kept nodding, nodding in the sun--then--as the last shovelful fell on the pile at his side, he looked down in the hole once more and heard voices--strange voices.