The Trials of Tattypoo
On the same evening Philador and Akbad flew off from the Ozure Isles,
the Good Witch of the North sat quietly before her fire, spinning
silver from straw. From time to time Agnes, her pet dragon, would toss
a log on the blaze and set it glowing with her fiery breath. The cat
with two tails purred drowsily in the chimney corner and nothing could
have been cozier than this little room in the good witch's hut. And
Tattypoo was content. Ruling over the north Country, settling disputes
between its small kingdoms, and advising the Gillikens about everything
from birthday parties to preserves, filled her time most pleasantly.
The door of the good witch's hut was never bolted and no one, coming
for help or advice, had ever been turned away. So though her skin was
drawn and wrinkled and her hair white as snow, and the little hut
plainly, even poorly furnished, Tattypoo was perfectly happy.
But Agnes, the amiable dragon, was not. Agnes longed for grandeur and
style and felt that the ruler of all the Gillikens should wear a crown
or live in a castle. Agnes, while not exactly conceited, felt that her
own beauty was utterly wasted in this little hut. She longed to flash
her silver scales and switch her tail at the fine courts of Oz. But
Tattypoo was neither vain nor ambitious and only chuckled when Agnes
complained of the poorness of their dwelling, the plainness of the food
and the lack of servants to wait upon them. She had lived so long in
the purple forest on the Gilliken mountain side that she had grown to
love every tree and tumbling brook and even the witch's little cottage.
At the time The Wizard first came to Oz it was ruled over, as you well
know, by four witches. Little Dorothy's house fell on the wicked witch
of the East, and later this same little Dorothy had put out with a pail
of water the wicked witch of the West. Glinda the good sorceress had
conquered the bad witch of the South and Tattypoo had conquered Mombi,
the wicked witch of the North, not before she had stolen Cheeriobed's
Queen, however, and done many mischievous transformations. At first
Mombi had been deprived of her magic powers but after her last attempt
to capture the Emerald City she, too, had been put out with a pail of
water, so that Tattypoo was the only witch of any power or consequence
in Oz. And as she explained over and over again to Agnes, being a good
witch in an important country like Oz was honor enough for her, and as
long as she used her magic powers for good and so long as the Gillikens
were peaceful and prosperous under her rule, she would be perfectly
satisfied and happy.
Agnes, in spite of her vanity, was as good a dragon as Tattypoo was
a witch and had really earned her title of the amiable dragon. For
Agnes had never devoured any captive maidens, burned down a village
or threatened a kingdom. She was a small cozy sort of a dragon, too,
taking up only about half a room and wearing rubbers to keep her claws
from scratching the floor. She had wandered into Tattypoo's hut the
very day the good witch had conquered Mombi, and had lived with her
ever since. She was so good tempered and companionable, Tattypoo put up
quite cheerfully with her occasional dissatisfied spells.
To-night, Agnes was feeling particularly dissatisfied. In the morning
Tattypoo had disenchanted a poor forest maiden. The girl had knocked on
the door and asked for food. Tattypoo after one look realized she was
under some evil spell and immediately consulted her books of sorcery.
A few magic potions and passes had changed the maiden to her rightful
self. And she had been no less than a King's daughter, whom Tattypoo
had sent home on a fast wish to her father's castle.
"If you can change poor girls to princesses, why don't you do something
for yourself?" complained Agnes, giving the fire a vicious poke. "I
don't mind being a dragon. Dragons are unusual and interesting, but
witches are ugly and out of style. Were you always a witch? Do you
always intend to be a witch? Were you never young or pretty at all?"
Agnes' question made Tattypoo pause. The hum of the spinning wheel
ceased as she tried to recall the past. Had she ever been young or
pretty? Letting the silver threads slide through her fingers, she gazed
thoughtfully into the fire, but it was all dim and hazy and the good
witch could remember nothing of her youth or the days before she had
come to the purple forest. She remembered distinctly her first meeting
with Mombi. The wicked witch was changing a woodcutter into a tree
stump and Tattypoo, running forward, had put a stop to it. Her magic
proved stronger than Mombi's so it had not been hard to overpower
her. Not only that, but she had driven Mombi out of the forest and
taken possession of her hut and magic tools. Later, the Gillikens had
come in crowds to thank Tattypoo and beg her to rule over them in
Mombi's place. So Tattypoo had stayed on, undoing as much of Mombi's
mischief as she could and growing fonder and fonder of the peace loving
Gillikens. She had always been so busy helping other people, she had
never thought about herself at all, but to-night Agnes' question made
her vaguely unhappy and she began to feel really annoyed that she could
remember nothing of her own past.
"I must have been young, once," murmured Tattypoo, absently leaning
down to stroke the cat with two tails. "Even witches are young."
"Of course they are," sniffed the dragon impatiently, "and if I had
your magic powers, I'd be young again."
"It wouldn't be right to practice magic for my own benefit," answered
Tattypoo in a shocked voice. "It's against the law."
"Is there any law against youth and beauty?" demanded Agnes tartly, but
the good witch kept shaking her head and muttering over and over, "It
wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be right."
"Well, at least you could see how you used to look," said Agnes, waving
her tail toward the stairway. "Surely there is no law against that?"
"How?" asked Tattypoo, leaning back in her chair and fixing her mild
blue eyes full upon the amiable dragon.
"Why, the witch's window! Let's have a look through the witch's
window!" coaxed Agnes, and sliding across the floor she began pulling
her silver length up the rickety steps of the cottage. Tattypoo,
reaching for her staff, hobbled hurriedly after her.
"I never thought of the window," panted Tattypoo feeling extremely
excited and fluttery. In the attic of Mombi's hut was a curious dormer
window, its two leaded panes opening out upon the slanting roof. One
pane was of blue glass and one of pink. Tattypoo had often consulted
the witch's window, when her subjects needed to know about the past or
the future. One look through the blue pane showed the person looking
out the past, and one look through the pink pane showed the future.
It was curious that Tattypoo had lived in the hut all these years and
never looked out the witch's window, but as I said a minute ago, she
was so happy and so busy she never thought of herself at all. And now,
it was largely to satisfy Agnes that she tip-toed over to the dormer
window. First she pushed back her cap ruffles and straightened her
specs.
"Well?" asked Agnes, pulling herself laboriously up on the sill. "What
do you see?" Instead of answering Tattypoo gave a terrible scream and
jumped right out the window. Yes, she did.
"Stop! Help! What are you doing!" shrieked the poor dragon, falling
half way out herself. But the good witch had disappeared, staff, cap,
spectacles and all. And in her desperate concern for her unfortunate
mistress, Agnes lost her balance and falling out the witch's window
disappeared as quickly and completely as Tattypoo. So of course, there
was no one to answer the door.
"Rap! Rap! Rap!" The knocker rose and fell. Then the latch was lifted
cautiously and in stepped a small boy. It was the Prince of the Ozure
Isles, for the blue gull had brought him straight to the good witch's
door.
"Tattypoo!" called Philador softly. "Where are you, Tattypoo?" But
there was no reply--only the rush of a black shape as the cat with two
tails scampered across the cottage floor and jumped out of the low
window.