The Seven Doors
As Bob and Notta came closer, they noticed that each door had a brass
plate nailed on the center panel, engraved with various names and
instructions. "Keep out!" directed one shortly.
"Well, that surely cannot be the right one," exclaimed the clown,
moving hastily to the next.
"Don't waken the baby," advised the second door. So Notta and Bob
tiptoed carefully past.
"This way to the Dorms. No admittance till February," said the third
door.
"And it's only May now. We cannot possibly wait that long." Notta took
off his hat and made the door a polite bow. "Besides," he explained to
Bob, who was slowly spelling out the words on the fourth door, "Dorms
stands for dormitories and dormitories stand for sleep. Who wants to
sleep?"
"King Theodore the Third," said the fourth door.
"Whew!" whistled Notta. "Another King! Come away, Bob Up, I don't trust
these king chaps at all."
"The Queen," announced the plate on the fifth door proudly, "Adora the
First. No one without a title need apply."
"Well, we may not be earls, but we're early," chuckled Notta, winking
at Bob.
They hurried curiously to the sixth door. "Push!" said the plate.
"But would that be wise?" ruminated Notta, rubbing his forehead
anxiously. "Let's try the last door, Bob."
"Don't try me too much or I'll fall on your head," wheezed a
disagreeable voice. "Haven't you anything better to do than go trying
poor hard-working doors?"
After a talking sign, Notta and Bob should not have been surprised. But
they were--simply astonished--and for a moment could do nothing but
stare.
"This door answers itself," said the plate on the seventh and strangest
of all the strange doorways.
"No bread, no ice, no milk; and if you're selling brushes you might as
well go at once," continued the door sulkily. "We don't need any."
"We're not!" interrupted Notta, in a slightly choked voice. "We just
want to get in."
"What for?" asked the door stubbornly. "Is it a door matter? Have you
cards of admission?"
"We're hunting Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion," volunteered Bob timidly.
"A likely story," sniffed the door, looking contemptuously from one to
the other. "But what could one expect of people with curly ears."
"We have not curly ears," cried Bob, stamping his foot indignantly.
"Don't argue," said the door stiffly. "How's your temper--long or
short?" It rolled its wooden knot eyes inquiringly at Notta.
"What's that got to do with our getting in?" asked the clown
impatiently.
"Short!" muttered the door triumphantly to itself. "No, you'd better
stay out, I think. Her highness is very slammish to-day, and the last
time I let strangers in she nearly twisted my knob off. That's the
trouble around here--when anything goes wrong, everybody slams the
door. Sometimes I almost wish I were a sofa cushion."
"I wish you were, myself," frowned the clown, "for then I'd toss you
out of the way instead of wasting my breath here. Are you going to let
us in or not?"
"Not!" snapped the door, rattling its knob vindictively. "And I don't
care a slam what you wish."
"Bob," said Notta, turning his back on the door, "did you ever hear
anything like that? Let's try Number Two. I'd rather risk wakening a
baby than trying to argue with a door that answers itself."
"I'm not afraid of babies," said Bob following manfully. The knob of
Number Two turned easily and the door swung open with such a rush
that both Notta and Bob fell through. At the first glimpse of that
baby, Notta clapped his hand over Bob's mouth and, rising with quaking
knees, pulled him toward the door. For you see it was a baby dragon--a
snoring, roaring baby dragon as long and heavy as a freight train. It
gave a shrill whistle and snort as the door slammed shut and Notta and
Bob sat down in a weak heap.
"Baby," choked the clown, rubbing his eyes, which were full of dragon
smoke. "Well, if that's the baby, preserve me from the rest of the
family!"
"Will it come after us?" shuddered Bob, in a frightened whisper.
"How did you like our little doorter?" The seventh door looked sideways
at the two and chuckled wickedly. "Still want to get in?"
"Certainly," said Notta, turning a dozen cartwheels to relieve his
nervousness, "but not that way." He winked reassuringly at Bob. "Before
I do anything else I must put on my disguise. No wonder things are
going so badly."
"Don't you think you look silly enough?" wheezed the door rudely, as
the clown drew out disguise number three. Notta paid no attention to
this remark but, turning his back, struggled hastily into number three.
Even Bob felt reassured, for this time Notta was disguised as a bear--a
huge and terrible-looking bear. Grasping Bob's hand he rushed at the
door marked "Push," with such a ferocious growl that Number seven shook
like a leaf.
"Oh, my hinges," chattered the door, "that went through me like a
sword." But immediately afterward it broke into derisive laughter. For
no sooner had Notta and Bob pushed Number Six, than Number Six pushed
back, and so hard that the two went flying into a clump of blueberry
bushes.
"That's the door way to treat 'em, brother," roared Seven, and Notta
picked himself up and straightened his bear skin.
"Now some people," muttered the clown, helping Bobbie out of the
brushes and shaking his paw at the door, "some people would be
discouraged. But no more side shows, Bob. Let's try the Queen's door,
if we're to be thrown out it might as well be done royally."
There was a silver bell on the Queen's door and Notta rang it quickly,
before either of them had time to change their minds. For a moment
nothing at all happened. Then the door knob disappeared. But horrors!
Next instant it shot out, seized the two in a terrible clutch, and
dragged them through the keyhole. Yes, it really did!
Not only had they been pulled through the keyhole, but they _felt_ as
if they had been pulled through the keyhole. Even Notta had nothing
to say. He just lay on his back and panted. Whether the keyhole had
stretched as they went through or whether they had shrunk, I cannot
say. I only know they went through somehow and were on the other side
of the Queen's door.
"Cards, please!" A doorman in a handsome blue satin uniform was leaning
over them. "Are you deaf?" he asked angrily. "Are you dumb?" He thumped
Notta on the head with his silver card plate.
"Neither," groaned the clown. "What do you want?"
"Your titles," snapped the doorman, looking nervously over his
shoulder. As he did so, a vase, three books and a pair of fire tongs
struck the wall just above his head.
"Oh, the Queen is in a fury, whatever shall I do next," he mumbled to
himself, dropping the silver plate and then picking it up again.
"Let's run," said Bob, pressing close to Notta. But the clown had
already recovered his spirits and was fumbling in his pockets under his
bear skin.
"There you are." He calmly dropped two large buttons on the doorman's
plate. "Just lead us to her Majesty at once."
"Someone's been at the jam again," quavered the doorman without looking
at the buttons. "Oh, the Queen's in a fury--a fury--a fury!" At each
fury he gave a little hop.
"You said that before," observed Notta, looking around curiously.
"A fury! A fury! A fury!" persisted the doorman, continuing to hop, and
as each hop carried him farther away he was soon out of sight.
"Wait!" cried Notta, lumbering after him, for his disguise made him
clumsy.
"Wait!" cried Bob Up, running after Notta.
Down the long hall they both ran, and, turning suddenly, found
themselves in a large, impressive throne room. The entire wall space
was taken up by doors of every size and shape imaginable and before
each door stood a doorman similar to the one they had already seen.
In the center of the room were two magnificent thrones. On the first
sat a large, handsome Queen and on the second a small nervous King. The
King's crown was entirely made of china door knobs, mounted on gold
bars, while the Queen's was made of many gold door keys. The Queen was
looking at the buttons as Bob and Notta entered.
"Buttons!" hissed her Majesty contemptuously. "What do buttons stand
for?"
"Us, your Highness!" replied Notta, bowing as low as his disguise would
permit, and drawing Bob forward.
The King twiddled his thumbs and recited:
"B stands for buttons
And B stands for bears,
B stands for buttons and boy--
Bring two chairs!"
"Nonsense!" thundered the Queen. The doormen hastily brought two chairs
and Bob and Notta sat down.
"I think he'll appreciate rule two," whispered the clown. "He's quite
polite himself."
"Theodore," said the Queen, her face beginning to work curiously,
"Theodore, I believe they stole the jam. Bears and little boys are
always stealing jam. And what right have they here without titles?
Where are their titles?"
"Adorable Queen," said the clown, half rising and pointing with his paw
to the buttons, "those are the badges of our order. We belong, your
Highness, to the ancient and honorable Order of Bachelors, and are at
present lords of all we survey."
"Do you believe that?" The Queen turned and squarely faced the King.
"No!" said Theodore emphatically, turning to squarely face the
Queen. "How could I, when there is no such place. Where is this
All-we-survey?" he asked sternly. "Is it in Oz?"
Notta was so surprised at the sudden turn the conversation had taken
that he sat down with a thump.
"He's a dorm!" screeched the Queen, her voice rising higher and higher.
"He's a dorm--that's what he is!"
"What's a dorm?" gasped Bob, so surprised that he forgot to be
frightened.
"A dorm is an animal that lies dormant in cold weather, like a bear or
a 'possum, my dear Buttons," explained the King, shaking his finger at
Bob, "but he's got no business here now."
"I see it all," panted the Queen beginning to wave her arms. "He didn't
come here to sleep but to steal! Theodore, he has stolen the jam!"
The King wagged his head from side to side as he repeated this verse:
"He's come without reason
And quite out of season;
I agree with you, Ma'am,
He has stolen the jam!"
"Put out your tongue!" commanded the Queen, waving a bunch of keys at
Notta. This Notta was unable to do, for his bear head had no tongue.
"You see!" shrilled the Queen triumphantly, "he is afraid to put out
his tongue. Slammer," she called, turning to a huge doorman, who stood
behind the throne, "what is the punishment for door jam stealing?"
The doorman whisked a little book from his pocket and, after flipping
over a number of pages, read in a high nasal voice, "Any one caught
stealing the Queen's door jam shall have his knob twisted and every
door in the kingdom slammed on him besides."
"How fearfully unhealthy," muttered Notta, rising to protest his
innocence. But the Queen waved him back, and banging her keys on the
arm of her throne called loudly, "Slammer, carry out the sentence!"
Slammer immediately blew a sharp whistle and every doorman in the room
sprang toward the trembling Notta.
"Stop!" cried Bob, doubling up his fists. "He didn't steal your old
jam. 'Tisn't a bear at all, it's Notta!"
"Notta?" gasped the King, rubbing his watery blue eyes, and leaning
forward.
"Not a bear!" puffed the clown, hastily snatching off his bear head,
just as the first of the doormen grasped him by the shoulders.