On the Isle of Conjo
"Good afternoon, children," said the clown quite clearly and calmly.
"G-g-g-good afternoon!" stammered Twink and Tom.
The little clown suddenly doubled up with merriment and then gasped:
"If you could only see yourselves! You're all eyes--positively bug-eyed
if I ever saw anyone who was!"
"But what are you doing in the television picture?" asked Twink,
regaining a little of her composure.
The clown disregarded her question and was suddenly serious. "Come on,"
he ordered. "Conjo can hold this picture only a few minutes and you
just have time to walk through."
"Walk through?" echoed Tom. "What do you mean?"
"Start walking toward the television screen and you'll find out,"
answered the clown. "Or perhaps," he added, "you would rather stay
there where it is raining and you can't go outdoors."
"But you're only a picture," objected Twink.
"Will you please do as I tell you and start walking toward the
television screen?" asked the clown sternly.
Twink and Tom looked at each other questioningly. Tom smiled and
shrugged. "Might as well try it--can't do any harm," he said.
"That's the spirit!" exclaimed the little clown, smiling again. "Just
join hands and walk straight toward me."
Tom took Twink's hand and the two children slowly advanced toward the
television screen. The screen was nearly five feet high--several inches
taller than the children--and almost six feet wide. So vivid and real
was the picture that Twink imagined she could really walk right into it.
Just as the children were about to take the last step that would bring
them directly in front of the television screen, a sudden powerful gust
of wind hit their backs and sent them tumbling forward.
"This is where we'll catch it," thought Tom, sure that the wind must
have blown them into the screen. He sat up, fully expecting to see the
expensive screen torn to shreds.
Instead he saw an expanse of rolling meadowland, and he felt the warm
sun beating down on his head. Twink was sitting beside him on the
green grass, staring about in utter bewilderment. Before them stood the
clown, smiling broadly.
"It's magic," breathed Twink, "pure magic."
"Well, it's magic, all right," answered the clown, "but I wouldn't say
how pure it is."
"But what has become of our library, and how did we get here, and how
can this be real, and why is it you're not upstairs in my room?" The
questions tumbled out almost faster than Twink could ask them.
"One question at a time, please," said the clown, "and I'll try to
answer. Your library is right where it always is. This can be real
because it _is_ real. And I am not in your room because I belong here."
"But, Twoffle," protested Tom, "we left you in Twink's room not fifteen
minutes ago."
"You didn't leave me there, and don't call me Twoffle," objected the
clown.
By this time Twink and Tom were standing up and brushing off their
clothes. "But you _are_ our Twoffle, you know," stated the girl. "We
have had you for years and years."
"I am not your Twoffle--of all the silly names," said the clown with
some irritation. "I am my own Twiffle."
"Then how is it you look so much like our Twoffle?" asked Tom, who
noted the clown was the same size as Twoffle and looked like his double.
"I was about to tell you," explained the clown, "that my name is
Twiffle, and Twoffle is my third cousin."
"Oh, so then you know Twoffle?" asked Twink curiously.
"Know him?" replied Twiffle. "Of course I know him. And I also know you
two very well. Many nights Twoffle and I have sat in your rooms with
the moonlight streaming through the window and talked by the hour while
you children slept."
Twink and Tom said nothing. They were busy thinking. All this was so
strange and had happened so unexpectedly and suddenly that they were
still bewildered. Tom's eyes were puzzled as he asked: "Just before we
came through the screen, you said something about Conjo being able to
'hold the picture for only a few minutes.' Who is Conjo?"
Twiffle was suddenly alert. "That reminds me," he said, "that we must
be on our way at once. Conjo is expecting you and we mustn't keep him
waiting."
Without another word, Twiffle started walking across the grass. The
children followed.
"But who is this Conjo, and where does he live?" asked Twink.
"And what does he want with us?" added Tom.
Without pausing to look at the children, Twiffle answered: "Conjo is
a Wizard--the sole ruler of this island, the Isle of Conjo. He lives
in the castle you can see in the distance. What he wants with you, he
will undoubtedly tell you himself." With this, the little clown flashed
Twink and Tom a bright smile and then walked steadily on toward the
glittering castle.
Twink found that she had no trouble at all in keeping up with Twiffle,
because his legs were so short and his stride so small. She had plenty
of time to pause occasionally and gather the colorful wild flowers that
dotted the green meadowland.