Dorothy and the Wizard Speak Strangely
"OOOMPH!" puffed the Scarecrow.
"Whooosh!" gasped the Patchwork Girl.
Colliding suddenly as they met headlong at a sharp turn in the garden
path, both the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl tumbled in a heap on
the garden walk.
A moment later they had risen to sitting positions and were regarding
each other comically.
The Patchwork Girl was a sorry sight. The high-grade cotton in her
patchwork or "crazy quilt" body was bunched together in all the wrong
places. After running and dancing a great deal that morning--as she
always did--the Patchwork Girl's body had sagged and she had grown
dumpy in appearance. When this happened she always lay down and rolled
about until she had resumed her original plump shape. Now after her
abrupt meeting with the Scarecrow her figure was in bad need of
attention. The pointed toes of the red leather shoes sewn on her feet
stood straight up. Her fingers, carefully formed and fitted with gold
plates for finger nails, dug into the path on which she sat. Her shock
of brown yarn hair hung down over her suspender button eyes and over
her ears, which were made of thin plates of gold. Between the two rows
of pearls sewn in her mouth for teeth, her scarlet plush tongue stuck
out impudently at the Scarecrow.
The Patchwork Girl's brains were slightly mixed, containing among other
qualities a dash of poesy, which accounted for her habit of breaking
into rhymes and jingles when it was least expected. Now she was too
surprised to speak. She had been brought to life in the first place
by a magic powder, and since she was always jolly and good-natured,
the Patchwork Girl was a prime favorite among the Oz folks. Nicknamed
Scraps, the queer girl laughed at dignity and liked nothing better
than to dance and sing. It was impossible to be downcast for long in
the company of this merry, carefree creature.
"Why don't you look where you're going, Scraps?" said the Scarecrow
ruefully, as he brushed his blue Munchkin farmer trousers.
"Now that you mention it," replied the Patchwork Girl reprovingly, "I
don't have X-ray eyes, so I couldn't see through to the other side of
the hedge where I was going."
"All right," said the Scarecrow, as he rose to his feet. "Please accept
my humble apologies." The straw man gallantly assisted the Patchwork
Girl to stand. "There's no harm done. The spill was as much my fault as
it was yours. I was thinking so deeply that I didn't see you."
"What were you thinking about?" asked Scraps.
"Dorothy," replied the Scarecrow with a sigh. "Tell me, Scraps, have
you seen her today?"
"Not once," answered the Patchwork Girl, combing her yarn hair with her
fingers.
"Until a few minutes ago, I've spent the entire day with Aunt Em who
sewed tight some of my stitches that were coming loose, sewed on my
eyes with new thread, so I wouldn't lose 'em, and sewed on a new pair
of red shoes, as I'd worn holes in my old ones. Now I'm as good as new!"
"Well," replied the Scarecrow, with his broad smile, "that may be true,
but I'd say no matter in how good condition you are, you're always just
sew-sew."
The smile quickly faded from the straw man's painted face as he
continued seriously, "Scraps, I'm worried about Dorothy."
"Don't worry about Dorothy; she's able to take care of herself," said
practical Scraps.
"You don't understand," explained the Scarecrow. "You see, yesterday
after Ozma and Glinda left for the Forest of Burzee, Dorothy asked me
to help her plan a banquet to celebrate their return. Dorothy wanted me
to think up some ideas for the entertainment to accompany the dinner.
I agreed to set my famous brains to work on the problem and spent all
last night in deep thought. This morning, bright and early, I rushed
to Dorothy and started to tell her the ideas I had. You can imagine my
surprise when Dorothy stared at me as though she hadn't the faintest
idea what I was talking about, and then turned and walked away from me."
The Scarecrow paused, his brow wrinkled with perplexity. "I don't
understand it," he continued. "It isn't like our sweet little Dorothy
to be rude or absent-minded. She and the Wizard have been in Ozma's
Chamber of Magic all day and I tried twice to see her, but each time
she said she couldn't be disturbed."
"Come to think of it," replied Scraps quickly, "Aunt Em remarked that
she couldn't understand why Dorothy hadn't been in to see her. Dorothy
always visits her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry at least once a day. But
maybe she's busy ruling while Ozma's away."
This explanation failed to satisfy the Scarecrow. He was gazing in the
distance down the garden path. "Isn't that Trot and Cap'n Bill sitting
on that bench over there?"
"Whoop ti doodle who?
Cap'n Bill and Trot
It is as like as not!"
sang the Patchwork Girl, turning a handspring and dancing toward the
bench.
The Scarecrow followed, and he and Scraps were warmly greeted by little
Trot and old Cap'n Bill. The Scarecrow repeated his story of the
strange manner in which Dorothy had been acting, but neither Trot nor
Cap'n Bill had seen Dorothy that day. The old sailor was silent for a
moment, considering. Then he said:
"You know, it's funny; but I was tellin' Trot only a minute ago that
the Wizard had me puzzled by the curious way he was behavin'."
"What do you mean?" asked the Scarecrow.
"Well," went on Cap'n Bill, "fer some time past I've been workin' on a
boat fer Ozma an' her friends, so they could go sailin' on that lake
jest outside the Emerald City. I had everythin' I needed 'cept fer
some tools, so the Wizard lent me some o' his thet get the work done
extra fast, 'cause they're magic tools. The boat's nearly finished--a
handsome craft if I do say so myself. All she needs to make 'er trim
is a coat o' paint. I thought it would be nice to have 'er finished
as a sort of surprise fer Ozma when she returns from this here fairy
conclave, so I asked the Wizard to lend me his magic paint bucket and
brush--the bucket always stays full, no matter how much paint you use
from it, an' the brush paints any color you want from the same bucket
o' paint. Well, the Wizard jest gave me a funny sort o' look and
walked away, mumblin' somethin' about bein' busy and havin' somethin'
important to do. 'Tain't like the Wizard at all. Somethin' ailin' him,"
concluded Cap'n Bill, wagging his grizzled head.
"Then it's the same thing that's ailing Dorothy," remarked the
Scarecrow sagely.
The four old friends were silent, each turning over the problem in his
own mind.
The bench on which Trot and Cap'n Bill were sitting was in front of a
high hedge--so high that none of them could see over it. On the other
side of the thick hedge ran another garden path. Suddenly they heard
footsteps, as if several people were hurrying down the garden path
which was hidden from their view. While they listened, wondering who it
could be, the footsteps halted just opposite them on the other side of
the hedge. Before they could call out a greeting, they recognized the
voice of the Wizard saying:
"We can talk here. There's no one about. Now tell me; why are we
wasting time in the garden?"
"Because," it was the voice of Dorothy replying, "it would look
suspicious if we did not leave the Chamber of Magic occasionally."
"Have you found the spell yet?" asked the Wizard's voice.
"Not yet," replied Dorothy's voice. "I've been through only half of
Ozma's magic record books. Give me time--it's there. And I'll find it!"
"Time!" replied the Wizard's voice, raised in excitement. "We have no
time to lose! Do you realize that Ozma and Glinda will be back in a day
and a half? We must find the spell before then if we don't want Ozma to
wreck our plans and rob us of the chance we have waited for!"
"Never fear," asserted Dorothy's voice. "I'll find the spell long
before Ozma and Glinda return. We'll be ready for those two when they
do come back!"
Gradually the voices subsided, as the two walked slowly down the garden
path toward the Royal Palace.
On the other side of the hedge, Trot, Cap'n Bill, Scraps and the
Scarecrow stared at one another in bewilderment. What could this mean?
It was incredible that Dorothy and the Wizard could be plotting against
their dearest friends, Ozma and Glinda.