‘I don’t like this,’ said Merrythought, shaking his head. ‘I never knew eyes to fall out of a Pony’s head before.’ ‘Perhaps I don’t put them in the right way,’ answered Sharpeyes, looking troubled. ‘This is the first toy I have ever made. Watch me, Merrythought, and see that I do it well.’ Merrythought and Sharpeyes both worked away until it seemed as if the brown eyes would never come out again. But in less than ten minutes not only were the eyes out of the Pony’s head, but they were lost as well. Sharpeyes searched for almost half an hour before he found them. And where do you think they were? You would never, never guess. One of them was tucked in the corner of a doll carriage under a pink-and-white wool cover. That was strange enough. But the other eye was stuffed into the wide-open red mouth of a poor little trumpeting elephant, who was so surprised that his thin gray tail stood straight out with excitement and fright. This was stranger and stranger still. It almost seemed as if the Pony had hidden them on purpose himself, though no one could imagine how he had done such a thing. A lively little toy monkey, who had been watching the Pony, might have told something about it, if he had wished. But he didn’t speak a word. ‘What ails my Pony, Merrythought?’ asked Sharpeyes. ‘I never knew toys acted in this way. Do you think perhaps he doesn’t like his brown eyes?’ ‘Why wouldn’t he like his brown eyes?’ replied Merrythought. ‘He is simply full of fun and likes a joke. But we must put those eyes in to stay. Let us go and look for some of Mr. Mendham’s glue. He may have left a little when he was here a year or so ago. There is no glue in the world like Mr. Mendham’s.’ ‘Mr. Mendham is a very fine Toy Tinker, isn’t he?’ asked Sharpeyes. ‘I believe he could mend any broken toy. Do you remember the Christmas time he and Mrs. Mendham came here to help Santa Claus make the toys?’ ‘Of course I do,’ answered Merrythought, smiling at the question. ‘He came to help because we Brownies were all ill in bed from eating too many of Sweet-Tooth’s rich caramel creams.’ ‘Does he live far from here?’ asked Sharpeyes. ‘I have never seen his house.’ ‘Not so far,’ was Merrythought’s reply. ‘Straight down past the Eskimo village and then on to a little wood of evergreen trees. His house stands there with a sign over the door. Now let us try to find a bit of Mr. Mendham’s glue.’ Neither Sharpeyes nor Merrythought glanced at the Pony. If they had they would have seen in a moment that he had listened to every word they said. At the words ‘Toy Tinker’ the Pony’s tail had begun to swish. When Merrythought had told where Mr. Mendham lived, the Pony’s ears had twitched to and fro. And no sooner did the Pony have a moment to himself than over to the window he rocked and tried to push it open with his little red nose. How he knew his way about without any eyes I don’t know. And once he had opened the window, did he mean to jump out?