THE SOCIABLE SAND WITCH
BY T. L. SAPPINGTON
Author of "The Grateful Fairy"
NEW YORK
BARSE & HOPKINS
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1923,
By Barse & Hopkins
PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.
[Illustration: Getting ready for autumn.]
CONTENTS
THE SOCIABLE SAND WITCH
THE FOUNTAIN OF RICHES
OBSTINATE TOWN
TOOBAD THE TAILOR
THE SNOOPING-BUG
THE WRONG JACK
THE SECOND STORY BROTHERS
THE IMAGINARY ISLAND
THE DANCING PEARL
THE INHERITED PRINCESS
ILLUSTRATIONS
Getting ready for Autumn
So Junior held his nose tight
It was raining cats and dogs
The Poppykok pasted a magic postage stamp on his cheek
He began tearing at his clothes with all his might
The jar broke into a thousand pieces
Out of the hole came a giant
He turned and whipped the fan open
Upon his vision burst a band of coal-black savages
Floo the Wizard at work
He watched her whirl about
The minute the parade was over, he started off
Underneath the window sat the twenty-headed Gallopus
THE SOCIABLE SAND WITCH
Of all the witches that may be found in all the fairy tales ever told
there is none more delightfully sociable than the Sand Witch. This
Witch, who lives underneath the heaps of sand at the ocean's edge,
where, in the summertime, you dig with your shovel, is not at all like
other witches. She never rides on a broomstick, and she never goes down
chimneys. In the first place there are no broomsticks or chimneys on
the beach at the sea-shore, and in the second place she would not know
how to ride on a broomstick or climb down a chimney, if there were. All
the Sand Witch knows how to do is to sink into the sand when anything
scares her, and to come up through the sand when she sees a chance to
get acquainted with a person she never was acquainted with before. So
now you know what a Sand Witch is. And if Junior Jenks, seven years
old, and dreadfully sunburnt, had known what you know, he would have
been much better prepared to face the one that came up right under his
nose all of a sudden one hot July morning.
Junior was supposed to be in bathing. His mother, and his father, and
his sister were in among the breakers having a fine time, but Junior,
although he was wearing a bathing suit just like they were, preferred
the good old sandy, sunny beach where foam-crested waves could not
tumble you over and over, and fill your mouth with salt water when
you yelled. He had tried bathing once, and no amount of coaxing could
induce him to try it again, so his folks left him to play by himself
while they took their dip.
The first Junior knew about the Sand Witch was when the tip end of a
steeple hat began to come up through the sand in front of him. Up, up
it came until the whole hat was showing; then followed a long nose, two
big, black eyes, a big mouth, and a sharp pointed chin; after that the
rest of the Sand Witch followed very quickly, until at last she stood
before him as cool as a cucumber.
"Well," she said, not paying the slightest attention to the way
Junior's hair was standing up, "here I am. I've heard you digging for
some days. I suppose you thought you'd never find me."
"Find you?" said Junior, staring with all his might. "I wasn't trying
to find you. I never knew there was such a person. I wasn't trying to
find anything."
"You weren't?" said the Sand Witch. "Then what in the name of peace
were you digging for?"
"Why," said Junior, "I--I--I was just digging for fun."
"Well," said the Witch, "did you find any fun?"
"Find any fun? Of course not! You don't find fun, you--you just have
it."
The Sand Witch pushed her hat on one side and scratched her head in
perplexity. "I don't think I understand. You said you were digging for
fun, didn't you? And when I asked if you found any fun you say you
don't find fun, you just have it. Well, if you have it, what do you
dig for? Tell me that?"
But though she waited very politely for Junior to tell her, he made no
answer. He just looked at her with his mouth open, and wiggled his bare
toes deeper into the sand.
"My goodness," said the Witch, at last, "are you deaf? I asked you a
question."
"I--I know," said the boy, "but--but I can't tell you. I--I don't know
how."
"Suffering sea serpents!" exclaimed the newcomer. "You certainly are
the queerest _I_ ever met!"
"No queerer than you are," responded Junior, indignantly. "You're the
queerest person _I_ ever met! Coming up through the sand in such a way!"
"Humph!" retorted the Witch. "How else _could_ I come up? There's
nothing else here but sand to _come_ up through. You can't blame that
on me."
"Oh, I'm not blaming you," said Junior. "I'm only telling you. I don't
suppose it is your fault that all this sand is here. It only seemed so
strange for a person to be underneath it. You don't live there, do you?"
"I certainly do!" replied the other; "and all my family, too."
"Underneath the sand? Why, I never heard of such a thing! I--I can't
believe it!"
"Now look here," said the Sand Witch. "I won't let anybody talk _that_
way to me. If you don't believe I live underneath the sand come on down
and see for yourself. Just hold your nose tight with the fingers of
your _right_ hand, put your _left_ hand above your head, draw _in_ a
deep breath; and down you go, like this."
Thrusting a hand above her head, and grasping her nose, she took a deep
breath, and zip--she sank through the sand like a flash, just the way
Junior's father always sank into the ocean when he was bathing. Then
bing--the next moment she popped up again, smiling cheerfully. "See how
easy it is? Come on, now you try it!"
"No, thank you," said Junior. "I'd rather stay on _top_ of the sand."
"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed the Sand Witch, "I never saw such a 'fraid cat!
You're not only afraid to take a sea bath, but you don't even dare to
take a sand bath. I'd be ashamed!"
"Well, be ashamed, if you want!" said Junior, hotly. "I don't care! I
don't like baths of any kind; in the ocean, or in the sand; or even in
the bathtub. What's the use of them, anyway?"
And with that he started digging again. And then it was that the Sand
Witch showed what a thoroughly sociable nature she had, for although
the boy had turned his back to her and was paying no attention, she
wasn't in the least discouraged. "Did you ever see a crab wait on the
table?" she asked.
"Why, no," said Junior, whirling about and looking very much
interested. "I thought all a crab could do was to pinch you."
"Not at all! They wait on the table fine if you let 'em. And I've
got a shooting starfish, too, that can't be beat. You come on down
underneath the sand, and I'll show you. Oh, I've got dozens of
delightful things down there. Why, the sand pies I make are the most
delicious things you ever tasted. And I know you'll laugh when you see
the clams skip rope."
Well, you may be sure all this sounded very, _very_ good to Junior. He
had often heard of starfish, but never of shooting starfish. A crab
waiting on the table was bound to be interesting; and a clam skipping
rope, even more so. As for sand pies, he had often made them himself,
but never so they could be eaten. If there was a way to do the trick,
he'd like to know it. In fact, it was like being promised a free ticket
to the circus. So throwing his bucket and shovel aside he got to his
feet without further parley.
"Very well," he said, "I'll go with you. But I've got to be back in
a half hour. My father is going to take me sailing as soon as he is
through with his bath."
"That's all right," said the Sand Witch. "When you're ready to go
back, you just go back. And now do just as I do."
So Junior held his nose tight, put his other hand above his head, took
a deep breath, and then bing--he and the Sand Witch sank through the
sand in a jiffy, and the next moment came out underneath it.
[Illustration: So Junior held his nose tight]
"Oh!" cried the boy.
All about was a beautiful, white, glistening, sandy city; houses,
fences, streets, all of sand. The place where they were standing seemed
to be a sort of park with cute, little, carved, sandy benches amid the
sand grass, and several tall fountains spouting sand in a fine spray.
"Well, how do you like it?" asked the Witch.
"Fine!" said Junior; "but where are the clams and the--"
"My goodness," said the Witch, "but you _are_ in a hurry. I've got to
find my children, first. You don't expect me to neglect my children
that way, do you?"
"Oh, no," replied the boy, "of course not. But--but I didn't come
here to see your children, you know. I can see children anywhere."
"Not children like mine," said the Sand Witch, proudly. "If there is a
more beautiful child than little Lettuce Sand Witch I'd like to see it.
And as for dear little Ham Sand Witch, he is the _cutest_ thing."
"Ham Sand Witch! Lettuce Sand Witch!" exclaimed Junior. "Are those the
names of your children? Why--why, it sounds like things to eat!"
"Well," said Mrs. Sand Witch, "why not? Both of them are certainly
sweet enough to eat."
With that she opened her mouth and gave a piercing yell. "Children!"
she shrieked. "Come to mother, quick! I've got a little boy for you to
play with!"
And presently, racing across the park toward them came the two little
Sand Witches, one a girl and the other a boy. But though their mother
thought them sweet enough to eat, Junior did not. Both had long,
pointed noses and chins; big, black eyes and dreadfully wide mouths,
just like Mrs. Sand Witch. When they saw Junior they just stood and
stared, and gnashed their teeth.
"Hello!" said Ham Sand Witch, after a moment. "Who are you?"
"Yes," said his sister, Lettuce Sand Witch, walking about and examining
Junior from all sides, "who are you, and where did you come from?"
"I'm Junior Jenks," replied Junior, "and I came from the beach up above
to see the clams skip rope."
"Pooh!" said Ham Sand Witch. "That's no fun! We're not going to play
with them any more. They want you to turn the rope all the time. If you
don't, they nip you."
"Well," said Junior, "if I can't see the clams skip rope, let me see
the starfish shoot."
"All right," said Lettuce Sand Witch, "we don't mind. But you'll have
to pay his fare if you want to see him shoot."
"Pay his fare?" responded Junior. "I don't know what you mean."
"Ahem!" put in Mrs. Sand Witch. "Perhaps you thought he shot with a
gun. Well, he doesn't. He chutes with a chute! And you know as well as
I do, you've got to pay your fare when you chute with a chute."
"Oh," cried Junior, in dismay, "I see. But--but I haven't any money."
"Then," said Mrs. Sand Witch, "if you want to see him chute, we'll have
to charge it to your father. How about it?"
"Well," said the boy, "I guess he won't mind, as long as I never saw a
fish chute before."
So Mrs. Sand Witch took the children to the chute the chutes on the
other side of the park, and told the proprietor, a very shaky old
jellyfish, that Junior would pay the starfish's fare, and to kindly
coax him out of the ocean to take a ride.
So the jellyfish went to the ocean, which was just back of the chute
the chutes, and yelled for the starfish to hurry up if he wanted a free
ride. And the starfish, highly flattered at the invitation, lost no
time in making his appearance.
"I'm awfully obliged to you," he said to Junior, as he whirled about in
the sand to dry himself. "And to show I am I'll let you sit with me."
So Junior and the starfish, and Ham Sand Witch, and Lettuce Sand Witch,
climbed into the car and went shooting around the chute the chutes.
"Isn't it great?" shrieked the starfish, as they scooted down the
inclines. "It makes your insides turn somersaults! It beats swimming
all hollow, _I_ think. If ever I get rich I'm going to build one of
these things in the ocean."
And when at last the ride came to an end he insisted on Junior shaking
hands with every one of his five points. "Any time you fall overboard
when you're out sailing," he said, "stop in and see me. My place is the
third clump of coral just beyond the bathing grounds. Good-by!"
"Now," said Mrs. Sand Witch, who had waited while the children and the
starfish took their ride, "I've got to go home and get dinner. You
children amuse yourselves, and after dinner maybe I'll take you to see
the mermaids."
So Junior, and Ham Sand Witch, and Lettuce Sand Witch, wandered about
the park hand in hand. Although the little Sand Witches were so ugly,
Junior was beginning to like them right well, now that he was getting
used to them; and they seemed to like him, too.
"Why don't you stay all summer?" said Ham Sand Witch. "We could have
lots of fun."
"I'd like to," said Junior, "if my father and mother and sister were
here."
"Well, why not ask 'em to come down?" suggested Lettuce Sand Witch.
"Oh, they wouldn't do it," said the boy. "I know they wouldn't. They
like it better on the boardwalk and at the hotel. And now let's see if
we can't find those clams that skip rope."
"All right," said Ham Sand Witch, "but if we do, they'll make you turn
for 'em _just so_. They're awfully snappish."
And sure enough when presently they came upon the clams sitting on a
bench near one of the fountains, and Junior asked if they would skip
rope for him, they said they would if he turned for them _just so_.
"I don't know what you mean by 'just so,'" said Junior, "but I'll do my
best."
And he certainly did do the best he could. While Ham Sand Witch held
one end of the rope he turned it very, _very_ carefully as the two big,
white clams solemnly skipped. They were slow enough until they got
warmed up.
"Now give us butter and eggs," said one of the clams, suddenly.
"Butter and eggs?" said Junior. "You mean pepper and salt, don't you?"
"I certainly do _not_," said the clam who had spoken. "I mean
butter and eggs. Pepper and salt is _fast_, but butter and eggs is
_lightning_; and see that you do it right."
But though Junior turned the rope with all his might and main he simply
could not turn it fast enough to suit the clams. And presently with a
scream of rage they rushed at him snapping their shells angrily.
"Run! Run!" shrieked Lettuce Sand Witch, "or they'll nip you!"
"Run! Run!" yelled Ham Sand Witch. "They pinch awful."
And maybe Junior did not run. And maybe the clams did not run after
him. But luckily, just as they were about to grab him, one of them
tripped and fell and cracked its shell, and wept so when it did, that
the other clam stopped to help it. So Junior, and Ham Sand Witch, and
Lettuce Sand Witch finally reached Mrs. Sand Witch's house and were
soon safe indoors.
"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Mrs. Sand Witch, as the children stood before
her, panting. "What has happened?"
And after they had told her she said they were never even to _speak_
to those clams again. "I never did care for clams, anyhow," she said.
"They're always disagreeing with people."
Then she told them that dinner was almost ready and that she knew they
would enjoy it. "We've got the most delicious sandpaper garnished with
seaweed," she added; "to say nothing of sand pies for dessert."
And when she said that both the little Sand Witches jumped up and
down with glee, and cheered and cheered. "Oh, goody!" they cried. And
Junior, being a very polite little boy, cheered also, although he felt
quite sure that while he might like the sand pies, he never, _never_
would care for sandpaper garnished with seaweed.
And then as he sat in the parlor waiting for dinner to be served, he
heard a clatter of dishes in the next room, and peeping in, gave a gasp
of astonishment, for there was a big, green-backed crab putting the
dinner on the table, singing cheerfully to itself as it did so. And
this is what it sang:
'Twas a beautiful day at the bottom of the bay
In the mud where I always dwell,
But being a crab I longed to grab
At the bathers and make 'em yell.
So I took a swim to the water's rim
And looked about for a toe;
And then as I looked some fellow hooked
Me out of the water-o.
He hooked me into a great, big boat
With a piercing yell of joy,
And I do declare I'd still be there
Except for his little boy.
But that blessed lad unlike his dad,
With fright he simply roared--
He gave one squeal as I pinched his heel,
And kicked me overboard.
And now the aim of my humble life
Is to find that boy some way,
And to thank him quick for the kindly kick
That saved my life that day.
And as the crab sang a funny feeling came over Junior. Only a week or
so before _he_ had been out with his father in a boat, and _his_ father
had caught a crab on his fishing line, and pulled it into the boat. And
Junior, being in his bare feet, had been awfully scared for fear the
crab would pinch him, and then, sure enough, before he could get his
feet up on the seat, it did, right on the heel; and in trying to kick
it loose, he kicked it overboard. He wondered if this could possibly be
the same crab.
So when they all went in to dinner he looked at the crab carefully to
see if he could recognize it, but as one crab looks like another,
he couldn't be sure. But the minute the crab saw _him_, it was very
different.
"Oh!" gasped the creature he had been observing, staggering backward
and almost dropping the dish of sandpaper and seaweed it was carrying.
Then, putting the dish carefully on the table, it bent over and looked
Junior in the face.
"'Tis he!" it shrieked, with a dramatic gesture. "'Tis he! my rescuer!"
And if Junior had not leaped from his seat it would have thrown its
claws about his neck.
"'Tis he?" exclaimed Mrs. Sand Witch, frowning at her amphibian
servant. "What do you mean by ''tis he'? What are you talking about?
This is a nice way to behave before company."
But after the creature had explained matters, Mrs. Sand Witch and the
little Sand Witches were even more excited than the crab was.
"My, my, how romantic!" said Mrs. Sand Witch; "and how lucky it is,
Bertha, that you're a lady crab. _Now_ you can marry him!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Bertha, the crab, trembling violently. "I never thought
of that! I'd just love to, if only to show my gratitude. But--but maybe
he wouldn't care to marry me. Would you?" she asked, turning to Junior,
who had once more resumed his seat.
"Marry you?" said the boy, wishing he hadn't sat down again. "Why--why,
of course not. Why--why--I--I--why, I'm only a boy. I--I, my mother
wouldn't let me get married. I know she wouldn't."
"Oh, bother your mother!" retorted the crab, crossly. "She'll never
know anything about it. We'll get married and settle down here, and
she'll never know where you are. And now, when shall it be?"
"Never!" shouted Junior, springing up once more. "I'll never do it.
Boys never marry crabs. Boys never marry anybody!"
"Never marry anybody?" put in Mrs. Sand Witch. "Dear me, then how do
they ever get married?"
"They don't _get_ married," said Junior. "They--they just play."
"Well," responded the crab, "you can play. I won't mind. You needn't
stop playing just because you're married to me. No, sir-ee!"
But Junior shook his head. "I'm very sorry," he said, "but I can't do
it." And though the crab kept on coaxing and coaxing, he wouldn't give
in.
"Now look here," said Mrs. Sand Witch, "if we keep this up the dinner
will be cold. So run along, Bertha, and maybe after Junior has had a
good dinner he will change his mind."
"No, I won't," said Junior. "And what is more I want to go back to the
beach right off. I told you I was going sailing with my father in a
half hour."
"But," replied Mrs. Sand Witch, as she smacked her lips over the last
of her sandpaper, "that was before you were engaged to be married."
"I'm not engaged to be married," stormed the boy; "and if I had known
you were this kind of a person I'd never have come down here."
"Now, now," said Mrs. Sand Witch, "I'm every bit as old as your
mother, and I know what is best for you. You wouldn't like me to spank
you, would you?"
And when she said that, Junior decided he might as well give himself up
for lost. Soon as a person began to say she knew what was best for you,
you might as well make up your mind, you are done for. "Good gracious!"
he said to himself, "whatever shall I do?"
And when dinner was over, and he went into the park again with the
little Sand Witches, he was so depressed he wouldn't play or do
anything; and finally, Ham Sand Witch got tired trying to cheer him up
and went off to play with some other sand witches, leaving Junior and
Lettuce Sand Witch sitting on a bench side by side.
Lettuce Sand Witch, swinging her legs violently, was looking at him.
Then she slid along the bench and snuggled up close. "I'm awfully
sorry," she said. "And I think it's dreadfully mean to make you marry
Bertha. She's not pretty like I am, is she? Wouldn't you rather marry
me?"
And the minute she said that, Junior had a bright idea. He didn't
want to marry Lettuce Sand Witch any more than he wanted to marry the
grateful Bertha, one was as ugly as the other; but maybe if he let on
he wanted to, she might tell him how to get back to the beach. So he
snuggled up to her when she snuggled up to him.
"Maybe I would," he said, smiling at her. "But I couldn't possibly do
it until I asked my mother. You tell me how to get back to the beach,
and if my mother says I can marry you, I'll come right back and do it."
"Oh, will you, really?" cried Lettuce Sand Witch, springing to her feet
and clapping her hands. "Then I'll tell you how to get to the beach,
or at least the way my mother gets there. She stands up straight like
this; holds her nose with her _left_ hand and puts her _right_ hand
above her head; then she blows _out_ her breath instead of drawing it
in; and up she goes. And now, you won't forget to come back?"
"No, indeed," said Junior, "I'll do just as I promised. If my mother
tells me to come back and marry you, I'll do it. And now, good-by, and
thank you very, _very_ much."
The next instant he stood up as straight as he could, grasped his nose
with his left hand, put his right hand above his head, blew out his
breath, and bing--he shot up through the sand, and found himself right
alongside of his bucket and shovel.
He looked about. Everything was just the same. The sun was shining,
people were still in bathing, but nowhere among them could he see his
father, or mother, or sister. And then, presently they came tearing
over the sand toward him.
"You bad boy!" scolded Mrs. Jenks. "Where have you been? We've been
terribly worried! How dare you go off by yourself? Where were you, I
say?"
"Why--why--" began Junior.
Then he stopped. What was the use? He knew they wouldn't believe him.
And if he asked his mother if he could go back and marry Lettuce Sand
Witch as he promised he would ask her, she would say he was sick or
something, and make him go to bed. So he just dug his toes into the
sand and said nothing.
And that is why poor little Lettuce Sand Witch is still waiting
underneath the sand for Junior Jenks to come marry her. And that is why
Junior Jenks keeps looking about so queerly when he plays on the beach
by himself. He is taking no chances of another sociable sand witch
popping up in his neighborhood.
THE FOUNTAIN OF RICHES
No matter what other mistakes you may make in your lifetime, never make
the mistake of renting a cottage from an ogre. If you do, the chances
are you will bitterly regret it, as did Hak, the aged woodcutter.
Hak, was an old, old man who lived in a forest with his little
grandson, Omo, whose father and mother were dead; and who earned his
living by cutting down trees and chopping them into firewood. The
cottage that Hak and his grandson lived in belonged to an ogre, and the
rent the old man paid for it was not very much; and as long as he kept
his health and strength, he got along very nicely. But one day, while
cutting down a tree he tripped and fell, and before he could get out of
the way the falling tree struck him and broke his leg. And after Omo
had dragged him back into the cottage all he could do was to lie on
his bed and groan, and wait for the leg to get well.
"Goodness gracious!" he said to the boy, "What _shall_ we do? I won't
be able to work for days and days, and there will be the rent to pay,
to say nothing of the doctor's bill."
"Well," said Omo, "the rent and the doctor's bill will have to wait. So
don't worry."
"I have to worry," replied the old man. "The doctor may wait for _his_
bill, but the person who owns this cottage will not wait for his rent;
no sir-ee."
Then he told Omo that the cottage belonged to an ogre. "He let me have
it very cheap, but only for a certain reason. What do you think that
reason was?"
"I don't know," replied Omo. "What was it?"
"That he should be allowed to make you into a dumpling for dessert if I
did not pay the rent every month without fail."
"Oh," said Omo, his eyes very big. "I don't wonder you are worried.
It--it makes me feel worried, too! Why did you ever make such a
bargain?"
"Well," said his grandfather, groaning worse than ever, "I never
thought for a minute that I would ever have my leg broken, and I was so
very, _very_ poor I simply _had_ to have a cottage _cheap_. But now,
I'll not only lose the cottage, but you also. I guess I might as well
die."
"Don't you do it!" responded Omo. "I haven't been made into a dumpling
_yet_, and I'm not going to be, if I can help it. I'll go into the city
and get the doctor, and while I'm there I'll try to earn enough money
to pay the rent."
But Omo's grandfather only shook his head. "You're a plucky boy, Omo,"
he said, "but you'll never be able to do it. How can a boy of seven
earn anything?"
"Well, I can try, can't I?" said Omo. "You can't do anything if you
don't try."
So pulling his cap down over his curls, and tucking some bread and
cheese into his pocket, he set off for town. But when he arrived at
the doctor's office he found that the waiting room was crowded with
people, and that he would have to wait his turn.
"Oh, dear," he sighed, as he sat down next to a little old lady with a
frilled bonnet on her head, "this is most unfortunate. My grandfather
ought to be attended to right away."
"Well, he won't get attended to right away," said the old lady, "I can
tell you that! This doctor charges by the length of time you wait in
his office, so he _never_ hurries. I've been here three months."
"Three months!" cried the boy. "Oh, I couldn't possibly wait three
months, or even three days. I'm in a hurry! I've got to earn enough
money to pay the rent of our cottage, or the ogre who owns it will turn
me into a dumpling and eat me."
And when he said that everybody in the waiting room twisted about and
looked at him. "He seems to have a fever," they said.
"See here," said the old lady, "are you sure you're not sick instead of
your grandfather?"
"I'm _perfectly_ well!" exclaimed Omo, indignantly.
"Then you must be joking," responded the other.
"No, I'm not," said Omo. "I mean every word I said. I'm in great
trouble."
"H'm," said the old lady. She got to her feet. "Come on, let's go
outside! We'll save money by it anyway!"
Then as they walked along the street Omo told her all about his
grandfather's accident, and how important it was that the rent should
be paid.
"Ha!" exclaimed the old lady. "I know that ogre! His name is Gub and he
lives on the hill on the other side of the city. I often used to help
people out of his clutches. I'm a retired fairy godmother--haven't been
in business for years and years--but your story interests me. I've a
good mind to help you!"
"Oh, if you only would!" said Omo, "I'd be awfully obliged. You
see, it's not very pleasant to be made into a dumpling, and have my
grandfather put out of his cottage when he has a broken leg. Please,
_please_, help me!"
"Well," said the old lady, as she led the way into a little house with
a peaked roof, "I only help people who help themselves. Can you help
yourself?"
"Certainly!" said Omo. "Just offer me something and watch me help
myself."
"Very well then, I will," responded the fairy godmother. Going to a
golden desk in a corner she took from it a silver key. "This is the key
that turns on the Fountain of Riches in the City of Ootch. All you have
to do is to put the key in the keyhole at the base of the fountain,
give three turns to the right, three turns to the left, and _one_ turn
in the middle, and instantly the fountain will commence to spout gold
pieces enough to bury you. But you must promise me this, be sure and
turn the fountain off as soon as you get enough gold pieces to fill
your cap; and be sure and bring the key back to me, for I wouldn't want
that key to be left in Ootch, or that fountain to be left spouting,
for anything."
"Why not?" asked Omo. "What's the use of a fountain if it doesn't
spout?"
"Well, you see I presented that fountain to the city of Ootch because
they named the city after my great aunt's trained cockatoo, but after
the fountain started spouting gold pieces everybody had so much money
they all stopped working, and it almost ruined them. The butcher
stopped selling meat, and the baker stopped baking bread, and the
tailor stopped making clothes. Everybody stopped doing everything, and
pretty soon, although everybody had plenty of money, you couldn't buy
anything because nobody would take the trouble to keep store when they
could get money from the fountain. So I locked the fountain up and took
the key with me. And after the people of Ootch had spent some of the
money they had, and lost the rest, and could not get any more without
working for it, everything got all right again. And that's the reason
I don't want the fountain to keep on spouting again, or want you to
leave the key behind you."
"I should think not," said Omo. "It seems as bad to be too rich as it
is to be too poor. I'll be very careful about shutting the fountain
off, and I won't forget to bring back the key. And now how do I get to
the city of Ootch?"
"Just open my back door," said the fairy godmother, handing him the
key, "step out on the step, and then step off. And I do hope you won't
find it raining, for when it rains in Ootch, it rains cats and dogs."
So Omo opened the fairy godmother's back door and stepped out on the
step, and as he stood there all he saw before him was a pretty little
garden. Then, he stepped off the step, and bing--he was in a queer
looking city, and the garden and the back step, and the cottage, and
the fairy godmother, had all disappeared. And in addition it _was_
raining cats and dogs; regular, real cats and dogs.
"Ouch!" cried Omo, as a fat maltese fell ker-plunk on his head, yowling
like anything. "Whee!" he yelled, as a fox terrier dropped with a
thud on his shoulder and barked in his ear. And then, as black, white,
brown, yellow cats of every color, and dogs, big, little and medium,
began pouring on him and around him, all howling, and barking, and
spitting at the same time, he made a rush for a small building, open at
the sides but with a dome like roof of metal, where a man was standing.
"Quite a shower, isn't it?" said the man, as Omo reached the shelter.
"A shower," gasped Omo, "why--why, I think it's much more than a
shower. And--and look what's coming down--cats and dogs!"
[Illustration: It was raining cats and dogs]
"Well," said the other, "why not? That's what always comes down,
isn't it? That is why we build these cat and dog proof pavilions for
use on rainy days. Now if it rained elephants, that _would_ be an
inconvenience."
"I should say so," replied the boy. "But does it always rain like this?"
"Oh, sometimes it's a great deal worse. I remember about two years
ago I was caught in a storm and eight cats, all in one lump, and
fighting as hard as they could, fell right on top of me as I crossed
the street, and I assure you, sir, I _almost_ lost my temper."
"Well," said Omo, "it's lucky they melt as soon as they reach the
ground or you'd have more cats and dogs than you knew what to do with."
"Quite true," responded the stranger, "and even as it is, it is quite a
nuisance when a storm comes up."
He was an odd looking fellow with a curly beard, a scimitar in his
sash, and a spotted turban on his head. As he finished speaking he
began twisting at his ear with his finger as though he were winding a
clock.
"What's the matter," asked Omo, "is your ear sore?"
"Certainly not! You know as well as I do I'm only winding myself up so
I can start home as soon as the storm passes."
"Oh," cried Omo, "is that it? Well, I don't have to wind myself up
when I want to go anywhere. I'm always wound up."
"You are!" exclaimed the stranger. "Why, I can hardly believe it! I
never heard of _anyone_ being _that_ way! You can't have lived here
very long."
"Oh, no," said the boy, "I haven't lived here a half hour. I only just
came."
Then he asked his companion if this was the city of Ootch, where the
famous Fountain of Riches was located.
"Oh, yes," said the stranger, "this is the city of Ootch all right. And
the Fountain of Riches is here, too, but it's turned off; been turned
off for years. Gee whiz, don't I remember the good old days when it was
turned on. Everybody got so rich we nearly starved to death because
nobody would work to provide things for us to live on. And then all
of a sudden the fountain stopped, and I had to go to work again. I'm
a night watchman. Not that there is much use of watching the night,
because no one ever tries to steal it, but that's the trade my father
taught me, so I'm it. And now, maybe you'll tell me why you ask about
the Fountain of Riches?"
"Well," said Omo, cautiously, "I've heard so much about it I just
thought I'd like to see it while I was here." He didn't think it wise
to tell anything about the fairy godmother giving him the key to the
fountain for fear some one might try to take the key from him.
"Quite so," said the other, "then you'd better come with me. The shower
is over now, and if you want to see the fountain you've got to get a
permit from the Doodab."
"The Doodab! What's a Doodab?" asked Omo.
"A Doodab," exclaimed the Night Watchman, "is the next swellest person
to a Gumshu. Ootch isn't important enough to be governed by a Gumshu
so they put a Doodab over us, and he's a right decent chap, and _very_
fond of music. Why I've seen him sit by the hour and push a slate
pencil across a slate and go into ecstasies because it made his blood
run cold. You'll probably like him if you don't hate him. So come along
and see for yourself."
Now the Doodab of Ootch was a very, very fat, and a very, very lazy
gentleman. He hated to be bothered about anything at any time. He wore
rings on his fingers and bells on his toes, and he had a big hoop of
pearls through the end of his nose. And he especially hated to be
bothered when he was singing, which is what he was doing as Omo and the
Night Watchman entered his apartment. And this is what he was singing
in a very quivery voice as he accompanied himself on a slate with an
awfully squeaky slate pencil:
The currant cakes were thick upon the bushes;
The pie plants they were swaying in the breeze,
And the river it was made of delicious lemonade.
While the doughnuts all were ripe upon the trees.
We wandered hand in hand about the garden
Where the lollipops were strolling to and fro;
And I always will recall that exciting day in Fall
When we stood and watched the pickled onions grow.
"Well," exclaimed the Doodab, fretfully, "what _do_ you want? It seems
strange I can't embark on a sea of melody without being dragged ashore
like this. What _do_ you want?"
"This boy wants to get a permit to look at the Fountain of Riches,"
said the Night Watchman.
"He wants--What does he want that for?"
"Oh, I just want to see what it looks like," said Omo. "I never saw a
Fountain of Riches before."
"Hum!" said the Doodab of Ootch. "That remark has a very jarring note
in it. And what are you going to do after you've seen the Fountain of
Riches?"
"Why," said Omo, "just--just look at it, of--of course."
"And what are you going to do after that?"
"Why--why, just--just keep on looking at it, I guess," responded the
boy, hardly knowing what to say.
"Nonsense!" said the Doodab, "it won't do any good to keep on looking
at it forever. And besides if you look at it too long the permit will
run out. It only lasts three minutes."
"Three minutes!" exclaimed Omo. "Oh, I couldn't turn the fountain on
and off, and gather up the gold pieces in three minutes." And then he
clapped his hand to his mouth in dismay when he realized what he had
said.
"Ah, ha!" said the Doodab of Ootch, rattling the bells on his toes. "So
you're going to turn it on, eh?"
"Oh, ho!" said the Night Watchman. "And how in the world did you find
out how to turn it on?"
"Oh, I found out!" replied the boy.
"Well," said the Doodab, "I'm mighty glad to hear it, for I'm
dreadfully hard up. My purse is just about empty."
Then he clapped his hands and when his servants entered the room, he
told them to get several large sacks and some shovels, and follow him.
Then having twisted his ear and wound himself up, while the Night
Watchman did the same, he took Omo by one hand and the Night Watchman
by the other, and led the way to the Fountain of Riches.
"See here," said Omo, as they hurried through the streets, "you two
needn't think you're going to have piles of gold pieces again, for
you're not. I'm only going to turn that fountain on long enough to get
my hat full; and then I'm going to turn it off."
"What!" shrieked the Doodab of Ootch, "you're going to turn it off
before I get my sacks full?"
"Can I believe my ears?" said the Night Watchman. "You can't mean to
turn it off before I get my pockets full? Why--why if it hadn't been
for me you never would have seen the Doodab, or found out where the
fountain was. You must be spoofing!"
"No, I'm not," said Omo. "I'm very sorry, but I promised to turn the
fountain off the minute I got my hat full."
"The minute you get your hat full, eh?" said the Doodab, looking at Omo
slyly. Then he whispered in the Night Watchman's ear, after which they
both laughed merrily.
"What are you laughing at?" asked Omo.
"We're laughing," said the Night Watchman, "to think how you're going
to turn the fountain off after you get your hat full."
By this time they had reached the Fountain of Riches which was in the
center of the public square of the city.
"Are you still determined to turn it off as soon as you get your hat
full?" asked the Night Watchman.
"I have to," said Omo. "I promised."
"Well," said the Doodab, snappishly, "if you want to shut it off you've
got to turn it on first, haven't you? So go ahead!"
So Omo took out the silver key, fitted it into the keyhole at the base
of the fountain, and turned three times to the right, then three times
to the left, and then _three_ times in the middle, and bing--with a
clink and a chink, and a tinkle, the fountain of riches began to spout.
And the minute it did that, the Night Watchman grabbed Omo's cap from
his head, and the Doodab snatched the key from his hand.
"There," said the Doodab of Ootch, hurling the key as far as he could,
"I guess you won't turn off the fountain until you find that key."
"Yes," said the Night Watchman, hurling Omo's cap as far as _he_ could,
"and I guess you won't fill your cap until you find your cap either.
And by the time you do I'll have my pockets full of gold pieces."
"And," put in the Doodab, "I'll have my sacks full also."
Well, you may be sure Omo was very angry at the trick played on him,
and started after the cap and key as quickly as he could. It did not
take him long to find his cap, but he simply could not find the key.
"See here," he cried, running back to where the Doodab was tying up the
necks of his sacks, which were now filled to bursting, "you've got to
help me find that key. I promised to turn this fountain off and I'm
going to do it."
"All right," said the Doodab, "I'll help you. I've got gold enough here
to last me the rest of my life so I don't care how soon you turn it
off."
"Nor I," said the Night Watchman. "I've got all my pockets full, and my
stockings full besides, so stop the old thing whenever you want."
But Omo, and the Doodab, and the Night Watchman, although they searched
and searched, could not find the key anywhere, and all the while the
fountain was spouting gold pieces in a stream a hundred feet high, and
so thick it looked like smoke.
"My sakes!" said the Doodab of Ootch, "I don't know how you'll ever
stop it! I'm sorry I threw the key away now! But, anyhow, the worst
that can happen if the fountain keeps on spouting, is to give the town
a spell of nervous prosperity."
But alas, the Doodab of Ootch did not know what he was talking about,
for the fountain kept on spouting and spouting, faster and faster; and
presently the streets were knee deep in gold pieces. It was awful.
"Say," said the Night Watchman to Omo, "are you sure you turned the
fountain on all right? It never spouted like this before. We've always
been able to pick up the gold pieces as fast as they came out."
"Of course I turned it on right," said the boy. "I turned the key three
times to the right and three times to the left, and then _once_ in the
middle."
"No such thing!" shrieked the Doodab. "No such thing! You turned it
_three_ times in the middle! I watched you!"
"Oh," cried Omo, in a horrified tone, "did I? Then--then _that's_ why
the gold is coming out so fast. And it's getting deeper all the time."
"It'll soon be up to our necks!" cried the Night Watchman.
"We are lost!" roared the Doodab. He glared at Omo angrily. "How dared
you turn it on wrong?"
"Well, what did you throw the key away for?" retorted the boy. "If you
hadn't done that, I could turn it off."
And there they stood quarreling, and all the time the gold was getting
deeper and deeper about them. And when at last they decided they had
better go back to the Doodab's palace before they were buried alive,
they found it was too late. The gold pieces were so deep they could not
walk.
"Mercy me!" groaned Omo. "I'll never get back to my grandfather now. I
wish I had never come here!"
"So do I!" snapped the Doodab of Ootch. "Until you came I was perfectly
poor and happy, and now I'm horribly rich and wretched. Oh, what
_shall_ we do?"
And then all of a sudden Omo remembered a whistle the fairy godmother
had given him when she gave him the key. "If you really need me for
anything," she had said, "just blow this whistle; but not unless you
_really_ need me." So Omo put the whistle to his lips and blew as
hard as he could, for he thought if he ever _really_ needed a fairy
godmother he needed one now.
And the minute he blew the whistle there was a flutter and a whirr, and
the fairy godmother, frilled bonnet and all, stood before them.
"Well," she said, "you are in a _nice_ mess, aren't you?"
"It isn't my fault," said the boy. And then he told her how he had
tried to obey her instructions, but could not because the Doodab of
Ootch had thrown the key away. "I did make a mistake turning the
fountain on," he said, "but I could have turned it off all right if the
key had not been taken from me."
"I see!" said the fairy godmother.
Then she told Omo to fill his cap as well as his pockets with gold
pieces. And after he had done it, she gave three clucks like a chicken
does, snapped her finger twice; and bing--all the gold pieces in the
streets of Ootch, all the gold in the Doodab's money bags, all the
gold in the pockets and stockings of the Night Watchman; all the gold
everywhere except that which Omo had, disappeared, and the Fountain of
Riches also.
"There," she said, "that's the best way to settle the matter. And now,
come on, Omo, and get the doctor for your grandfather and pay the ogre
his rent."
"But," howled the Doodab of Ootch and the Night Watchman, "what do we
do? We haven't a cent!"
"You don't deserve any," replied the fairy godmother, sternly. "And as
long as you're howling so about it, I'll just make you and the whole
city disappear as well."
And she did, with three clucks and a snap of her fingers; and the next
moment Omo found himself in the fairy godmother's cottage.
Well, you can easily guess how after thanking his benefactress for
what she had done, he hurried off to the doctor's office. And when the
doctor saw Omo's cap and pockets full of gold, he went with him at
once; and became so interested in Omo's grandfather's case he took ten
years to cure him.
But neither Omo nor his grandfather cared if he did, for they had
plenty of money. And when the ogre came stamping in to collect his
rent, thinking he would not get it and would then make Omo into a
dumpling, Omo just laughed and _bought_ the place from him. And not
only that, but he added another wing to the cottage and laid out a
pretty garden as well, as much like the fairy godmother's as he could
make it. And when he did that the fairy godmother was so pleased she
came and kept house for them.
And now if you want to see a really _happy_ family, just stop and
make a visit at Omo's place in the middle of the forest where his
grandfather used to cut down the trees to make a living, but which he
does not have to do any more, thanks to the Fountain of Riches.
OBSTINATE TOWN
Of course you know what a postage stamp is: a little, square, gummed
stamp with a picture of George Washington on it. But a _magic_ postage
stamp is a very different stamp indeed. The George Washington kind you
can buy in the drug stores, but the other sort you cannot buy. They are
given to you free of charge, if you don't look out.
In the autumn, when the leaves are falling, the Poppykoks come to town.
There may be a hundred leaves falling and not one leaf have a Poppykok
on it, and then all of a sudden, another leaf falls on your shoulder
and a Poppykok is sitting on it, and then--bing--the moment he lands on
your shoulder he jumps off the leaf and pastes a magic postage stamp
on your cheek, and then--off you start for Obstinate Town by special
delivery, that is, you do if you happen to be a boy that always wants
his own way. But if you are not that kind of a boy, you need not worry.
However, the boy this story is about was one of the kind who wanted his
own way. No matter what he was told to do he wanted to do something
else. Otherwise, he was a very nice little chap, and his name was
Prince Zep, the only son of a wealthy and powerful king. Of course
being a prince he was allowed to have his own way much more than was
good for him, and was so used to it, he never thought anything about
how unpleasant it might make things for other people.
And so, it is not surprising that one afternoon late in the Fall he was
caught, and sent off to Obstinate Town by special delivery.
Now Zep never guessed, any more than you have, that there was such a
place as Obstinate Town, or such things as Poppykoks or magic postage
stamps. And so, as he strolled through the Royal Park that afternoon
scudding his feet through the dried leaves that covered the way, he
had not the slightest idea that anything was going to happen to him,
until quite unexpectedly, a big, red maple leaf fell on his shoulder,
and from it stepped a Poppykok in his bright scarlet coat and breeches,
and with his magic postage stamp neatly curled up in a roll in his
hand. And before Zep could even gasp, the Poppykok had pasted the stamp
on his cheek, leaped from his shoulder to the ground, and stood before
him, smiling cheerfully.
[Illustration: The Poppykok pasted a magic postage stamp on his cheek]
"There you are," said the Poppykok, "a good job, well done. Bon voyage!"
"Bon what?" began Zep, "I--I--"
"That's all right," responded the Poppykok, "you don't know where
you're going, but you're going. Good-by! I'll see you later!"
And then Zep felt himself leap into the air and start off with a whiz.
And the more he whizzed, the more he whizzed, until it seemed as though
he would never stop whizzing.
"My gracious," he thought, as well as he could as he hurried along,
"what on earth has happened to me, and where, oh where, am I going?
This is really dreadful!"
And indeed it was for a little while. But presently he began to get
used to the whizzing, and finally found himself descending in a
graceful curve before a large and ornate building that looked very much
like a palace. And sure enough that is exactly what it was, and sitting
on the steps of the palace waiting for him was the very same Poppykok
that had started him off on his journey.
"Welcome!" said the Poppykok, rising and coming forward as the Prince
reached the ground with a bump, "you're right on time. I hope you had a
pleasant trip?"
"No," said Zep, crossly, "I certainly did not. I had a horrid trip. How
dare you treat me this way?"
"Pooh! Pooh!" responded the other, snapping his fingers, "everybody
says that when they first arrive. You'll be crazy about the place in a
little while. And now let's go inside and report to the Emperor."
Pushing open the front door of the palace the Poppykok led the way into
the grand entrance hall, and as he did so a short, fat man with a
crown on his bald head, and bristling whiskers all about his face, came
tumbling down the stairway head over heels, and landed in a heap at
their feet.
"Ouch!" he exclaimed, sitting up and rubbing his nose. After which
he rubbed his shins and said "ouch" once more; and "oh my" and "good
gracious." And after that he bawled up the stairs as loud as he could:
"Don't try to tell _me_ to be careful and not fall downstairs, for I'll
do as I want."
Then he swung himself about. "The idea," he said, glaring at the
Prince and the Poppykok, "of any one trying to keep _me_ from falling
downstairs. Huh! Can't I fall down my own stairs? Can't I? Tell me!"