The Collected Works of L. Frank Baum (Illustrated). L. Frank Baum

is that so? Come over here and let me see.”

      The Glass Cat hesitated, eyeing the dog.

      “Send that beast away and I will,” she said.

      “Beast! Why, that’s my dog Toto, an’ he’s the kindest dog in all the world. Toto knows a good many things, too; ‘most as much as I do, I guess.”

      “Why doesn’t he say anything?” asked Bungle.

      “He can’t talk, not being a fairy dog,” explained Dorothy. “He’s just a common United States dog; but that’s a good deal; and I understand him, and he understands me, just as well as if he could talk.”

      Toto, at this, got up and rubbed his head softly against Dorothy’s hand, which she held out to him, and he looked up into her face as if he had understood every word she had said.

      “This cat, Toto,” she said to him, “is made of glass, so you mustn’t bother it, or chase it, any more than you do my Pink Kitten. It’s prob’ly brittle and might break if it bumped against anything.”

      “Woof!” said Toto, and that meant he understood.

      The Glass Cat was so proud of her pink brains that she ventured to come close to Dorothy, in order that the girl might “see ‘em work.” This was really interesting, but when Dorothy patted the cat she found the glass cold and hard and unresponsive, so she decided at once that Bungle would never do for a pet.

      “What do you know about the Crooked Magician who lives on the mountain?” asked Dorothy.

      “He made me,” replied the cat; “so I know all about him. The Patchwork Girl is new—three or four days old—but I’ve lived with Dr. Pipt for years; and, though I don’t much care for him, I will say that he has always refused to work magic for any of the people who come to his house. He thinks there’s no harm in doing magic things for his own family, and he made me out of glass because the meat cats drink too much milk. He also made Scraps come to life so she could do the housework for his wife Margolotte.”

      “Then why did you both leave him?” asked Dorothy.

      “I think you’d better let me explain that,” interrupted the Shaggy Man, and then he told Dorothy all of Ojo’s story and how Unc Nunkie and Margolotte had accidentally been turned to marble by the Liquid of Petrifaction. Then he related how the boy had started out in search of the things needed to make the magic charm, which would restore the unfortunates to life, and how he had found the Woozy and taken him along because he could not pull the three hairs out of its tail. Dorothy listened to all this with much interest, and thought that so far Ojo had acted very well. But when the Shaggy Man told her of the Munchkin boy’s arrest by the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, because he was accused of wilfully breaking a Law of Oz, the little girl was greatly shocked.

      “What do you s’pose he’s done?” she asked.

      “I fear he has picked a six-leaved clover,” answered the Shaggy Man, sadly. “I did not see him do it, and I warned him that to do so was against the Law; but perhaps that is what he did, nevertheless.”

      “I’m sorry ‘bout that,” said Dorothy gravely, “for now there will be no one to help his poor uncle and Margolotte ‘cept this Patchwork Girl, the Woozy and the Glass Cat.”

      “Don’t mention it,” said Scraps. “That’s no affair of mine. Margolotte and Unc Nunkie are perfect strangers to me, for the moment I came to life they came to marble.”

      “I see,” remarked Dorothy with a sigh of regret; “the woman forgot to give you a heart.”

      “I’m glad she did,” retorted the Patchwork Girl. “A heart must be a great annoyance to one. It makes a person feel sad or sorry or devoted or sympathetic—all of which sensations interfere with one’s happiness.”

      “I have a heart,” murmured the Glass Cat. “It’s made of a ruby; but I don’t imagine I shall let it bother me about helping Unc Nunkie and Margolotte.”

      “That’s a pretty hard heart of yours,” said Dorothy. “And the Woozy, of course—”

      “Why, as for me,” observed the Woozy, who was reclining on the floor with his legs doubled under him, so that he looked much like a square box, “I have never seen those unfortunate people you are speaking of, and yet I am sorry for them, having at times been unfortunate myself. When I was shut up in that forest I longed for some one to help me, and by and by Ojo came and did help me. So I’m willing to help his uncle. I’m only a stupid beast, Dorothy, but I can’t help that, and if you’ll tell me what to do to help Ojo and his uncle, I’ll gladly do it.”

      Dorothy walked over and patted the Woozy on his square head.

      “You’re not pretty,” she said, “but I like you. What are you able to do; anything ‘special?”

      “I can make my eyes flash fire—real fire—when I’m angry. When anyone says: ‘Krizzle-Kroo’ to me I get angry, and then my eyes flash fire.”

      “I don’t see as fireworks could help Ojo’s uncle,” remarked Dorothy. “Can you do anything else?”

      “I—I thought I had a very terrifying growl,” said the Woozy, with hesitation; “but perhaps I was mistaken.”

      “Yes,” said the Shaggy Man, “you were certainly wrong about that.” Then he turned to Dorothy and added: “What will become of the Munchkin boy?”

      “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head thoughtfully. “Ozma will see him ‘bout it, of course, and then she’ll punish him. But how, I don’t know, ‘cause no one ever has been punished in Oz since I knew anything about the place. Too bad, Shaggy Man, isn’t it?”

      While they were talking Scraps had been roaming around the room and looking at all the pretty things it contained. She had carried Ojo’s basket in her hand, until now, when she decided to see what was inside it. She found the bread and cheese, which she had no use for, and the bundle of charms, which were curious but quite a mystery to her. Then, turning these over, she came upon the six-leaved clover which the boy had plucked.

      Scraps was quick-witted, and although she had no heart she recognized the fact that Ojo was her first friend. She knew at once that because the boy had taken the clover he had been imprisoned, and she understood that Ojo had given her the basket so they would not find the clover in his possession and have proof of his crime. So, turning her head to see that no one noticed her, she took the clover from the basket and dropped it into a golden vase that stood on Dorothy’s table. Then she came forward and said to Dorothy:

      “I wouldn’t care to help Ojo’s uncle, but I will help Ojo. He did not break the Law—no one can prove he did—and that green-whiskered soldier had no right to arrest him.”

      “Ozma ordered the boy’s arrest,” said Dorothy, “and of course she knew what she was doing. But if you can prove Ojo is innocent they will set him free at once.”

      “They’ll have to prove him guilty, won’t they?” asked Scraps.

      “I s’pose so.”

      “Well, they can’t do that,” declared the Patchwork Girl.

      As it was nearly time for Dorothy to dine with Ozma, which she did every evening, she rang for a servant and ordered the Woozy taken to a nice room and given plenty of such food as he liked best.

      “That’s honey-bees,” said the Woozy.

      “You can’t eat honey-bees, but you’ll be given something just as nice,” Dorothy told him. Then she had the Glass Cat taken to another room for the night and the Patchwork Girl she kept in one of her own rooms, for she was much interested in the strange creature and wanted to talk with her again and try to understand her better.

      17. Ozma and Her Friends