The Patchwork Girl of Oz

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"Quick, Margolotte! Come and help me."

She ran to her husband's side at once and
helped him lift the four kettles from the fire.
Their contents had all boiled away, leaving in
the bottom of each kettle a few grains of fine
white powder. Very carefully the Magician removed
this powder, placing it all together in a golden
dish, where he mixed it with a golden spoon. When
the mixture was complete there was scarcely a
handful, all told.

"That," said Dr. Pipt, in a pleased and
triumphant tone, "is the wonderful Powder of Life,
which I alone in the world know how to make. It
has taken me nearly six years to prepare these
precious grains of dust, but the little heap on
that dish is worth the price of a kingdom and many
a king would give all he has to possess it. When
it has become cooled I will place it in a small
bottle; but meantime I must watch it carefully,
lest a gust of wind blow it away or scatter it."

Unc Nunkie, Margolotte and the Magician
all stood looking at the marvelous Powder, but
Ojo was more interested just then in the Patchwork
Girl's brains. Thinking it both unfair and unkind
to deprive her of any good qualities that were
handy, the boy took down every bottle on the shelf
and poured some of the contents in Margolotte's
dish. No one saw him do this, for all were looking
at the Powder of Life; but soon the woman
remembered what she had been doing, and came back
to the cupboard.

"Let's see," she remarked; "I was about to give
my girl a little 'Cleverness,' which is the
Doctor's substitute for 'Intelligence'--a quality
he has not yet learned how to manufacture." Taking
down the bottle of "Cleverness" she added some of
the powder to the heap on the dish. Ojo became a
bit uneasy at this, for he had already put quite
a lot of the "Cleverness" powder in the dish; but
he dared not interfere and so he comforted himself
with the thought that one cannot have too much
cleverness.

Margolotte now carried the dish of brains to
the bench. Ripping the seam of the patch on
the girl's forehead, she placed the powder within
the head and then sewed up the seam as neatly
and securely as before.

"My girl is all ready for your Powder of Life,
my dear," she said to her husband. But the
Magician replied:

"This powder must not be used before to-morrow
morning; but I think it is now cool enough to be
bottled."

He selected a small gold bottle with a pepper-
box top, so that the powder might be sprinkled on
any object through the small holes. Very carefully
he placed the Powder of Life in the gold bottle
and then locked it up in a drawer of his cabinet.

"At last," said he, rubbing his hands together
gleefully, "I have ample leisure for a good talk
with my old friend Unc Nunkie. So let us sit
down cosily and enjoy ourselves. After stirring
those four kettles for six years I am glad to
have a little rest."

"You will have to do most of the talking,"
said Ojo, "for Unc is called the Silent One and
uses few words."

"I know; but that renders your uncle a
most agreeable companion and gossip," declared
Dr. Pipt. "Most people talk too much, so it is
a relief to find one who talks too little."

Ojo looked at the Magician with much awe
and curiosity.

"Don't you find it very annoying to be so
crooked?" he asked.

"No; I am quite proud of my person," was
the reply. "I suppose I am the only Crooked
Magician in all the world. Some others are accused
of being crooked, but I am the only genuine."

He was really very crooked and Ojo wondered how
he managed to do so many things with such a
twisted body. When he sat down upon a crooked
chair that had been made to fit him, one knee was
under his chin and the other near the small of his
back; but he was a cheerful man and his face bore
a pleasant and agreeable expression.

"I am not allowed to perform magic, except
for my own amusement," he told his visitors,
as he lighted a pipe with a crooked stem and
began to smoke. "Too many people were working
magic in the Land of Oz, and so our lovely
Princess Ozma put a stop to it. I think she was
quite right. There were several wicked Witches who
caused a lot of trouble; but now they are all out
of business and only the great Sorceress, Glinda
the Good, is permitted to practice her arts, which
never harm anybody. The Wizard of Oz, who used to
be a humbug and knew no magic at all, has been
taking lessons of Glinda, and I'm told he is
getting to be a pretty good Wizard; but he is
merely the assistant of the great Sorceress. I've
the right to make a servant girl for my wife, you
know, or a Glass Cat to catch our mice--which she
refuses to do--but I am forbidden to work magic for
others, or to use it as a profession."

"Magic must be a very interesting study,"
said Ojo.

"It truly is," asserted the Magician. "In my
time I've performed some magical feats that were
worthy of the skill of Glinda the Good. For
instance, there's the Powder of Life, and my
Liquid of Petrifaction, which is contained in that
bottle on the shelf yonder--over the window."

"What does the Liquid of Petrifaction do?"
inquired the boy.

"Turns everything it touches to solid marble.
It's an invention of my own, and I find it very
useful. Once two of those dreadful Kalidahs,
with bodies like bears and heads like tigers,
came here from the forest to attack us; but I
sprinkled some of that Liquid on them and
instantly they turned to marble. I now use them
as ornamental statuary in my garden. This table
looks to you like wood, and once it really was
wood; but I sprinkled a few drops of the Liquid
of Petrifaction on it and now it is marble. It
will never break nor wear out."

"Fine!" said Unc Nunkie, wagging his head
and stroking his long gray beard.

"Dear me; what a chatterbox you're getting
to be, Unc," remarked the Magician, who was
pleased with the compliment. But just then
there came a scratching at the back door and a
shrill voice cried:

"Let me in! Hurry up, can't you? Let me in!"

Margolotte got up and went to the door.

"Ask like a good cat, then," she said.

"Mee-ee-ow-w-w! There; does that suit your
royal highness?" asked the voice, in scornful
accents.

"Yes; that's proper cat talk," declared the
woman, and opened the door.

At once a cat entered, came to the center of the
room and stopped short at the sight of strangers.
Ojo and Unc Nunkie both stared at it with wide
open eyes, for surely no such curious creature had
ever existed before--even in the Land of Oz.

Chapter Four

The Glass Cat

The cat was made of glass, so clear and
transparent that you could see through it as
easily as through a window. In the top of its
head, however, was a mass of delicate pink balls
which looked like jewels, and it had a heart made
of a blood-red ruby. The eyes were two large
emeralds, but aside from these colors all the rest
of the animal was clear glass, and it had a spun-
glass tail that was really beautiful.

"Well, Doc Pipt, do you mean to introduce us, or
not?" demanded the cat, in a tone of annoyance.
"Seems to me you are forgetting your manners."

"Excuse me," returned the Magician. "This
is Unc Nunkie, the descendant of the former
kings of the Munchkins, before this country
became a part of the Land of Oz."

"He needs a haircut," observed the cat,
washing its face.

"True," replied Unc, with a low chuckle of
amusement.

"But he has lived alone in the heart of the
forest for many years," the Magician explained;
"and, although that is a barbarous country,
there are no barbers there."

"Who is the dwarf?" asked the cat.

"That is not a dwarf, but a boy," answered
the Magician. "You have never seen a boy before.
He is now small because he is young. With more
years he will grow big and become as tall as Unc
Nunkie."

"Oh. Is that magic?" the glass animal inquired.

"Yes; but it is Nature's magic, which is more
wonderful than any art known to man. For
instance, my magic made you, and made you
live; and it was a poor job because you are
useless and a bother to me; but I can't make you
grow. You will always be the same size--and
the same saucy, inconsiderate Glass Cat, with
pink brains and a hard ruby heart."

"No one can regret more than I the fact that you
made me," asserted the cat, crouching upon the
floor and slowly swaying its spun-glass tail from
side to side. "Your world is a very uninteresting
place. I've wandered through your gardens and in
the forest until I'm tired of it all, and when I
come into the house the conversation of your fat
wife and of yourself bores me dreadfully."

"That is because I gave you different brains
from those we ourselves possess--and much too
good for a cat," returned Dr. Pipt.

"Can't you take 'em out, then, and replace
'em with pebbles, so that I won't feel above my
station in life?" asked the cat, pleadingly.

"Perhaps so. I'll try it, after I've brought the
Patchwork Girl to life," he said.

The cat walked up to the bench on which
the Patchwork Girl reclined and looked at her
attentively.

"Are you going to make that dreadful thing
live?" she asked.

The Magician nodded.

"It is intended to be my wife's servant maid,"
he said. "When she is alive she will do all our
work and mind the house. But you are not to
order her around, Bungle, as you do us. You
must treat the Patchwork Girl respectfully."

"I won't. I couldn't respect such a bundle
of scraps under any circumstances."

"If you don't, there will be more scraps than
you will like," cried Margolotte, angrily.

"Why didn't you make her pretty to look at?"
asked the cat. "You made me pretty--very pretty,
indeed--and I love to watch my pink brains roll
around when they're working, and to see my
precious red heart beat." She went to a long
mirror, as she said this, and stood before it,
looking at herself with an air of much pride.
"But that poor patched thing will hate herself,
when she's once alive," continued the cat. "If
I were you I'd use her for a mop, and make
another servant that is prettier."

"You have a perverted taste," snapped
Margolotte, much annoyed at this frank criticism.
"I think the Patchwork Girl is beautiful,
considering what she's made of. Even the rainbow
hasn't as many colors, and you must admit that the
rainbow is a pretty thing."

The Glass Cat yawned and stretched herself
upon the floor.

"Have your own way," she said. "I'm sorry
for the Patchwork Girl, that's all."

Ojo and Unc Nunkie slept that night in the
Magician's house, and the boy was glad to stay
because he was anxious to see the Patchwork
Girl brought to life. The Glass Cat was also a
wonderful creature to little Ojo, who had never
seen or known anything of magic before, although
he had lived in the Fairyland of Oz ever since he
was born. Back there in the woods nothing unusual
ever happened. Unc Nunkie, who might have been
King of the Munchkins, had not his people united
with all the other countries of Oz in
acknowledging Ozma as their sole ruler, had
retired into this forgotten forest nook with his
baby nephew and they had lived all alone there.
Only that the neglected garden had failed to grow
food for them, they would always have lived in the
solitary Blue Forest; but now they had started out
to mingle with other people, and the first place
they came to proved so interesting that Ojo could
scarcely sleep a wink all night.

Margolotte was an excellent cook and gave
them a fine breakfast. While they were all engaged
in eating, the good woman said:

"This is the last meal I shall have to cook
for some time, for right after breakfast Dr. Pipt
has promised to bring my new servant to life.
I shall let her wash the breakfast dishes and
sweep and dust the house. What a relief it
will be!"

"It will, indeed, relieve you of much drudgery,"
said the Magician. "By the way, Margolotte, I
thought I saw you getting some brains from the
cupboard, while I was busy with my kettles. What
qualities have you given your new servant?"

"Only those that an humble servant requires,"
she answered. "I do not wish her to feel above
her station, as the Glass Cat does. That would
make her discontented and unhappy, for of
course she must always be a servant."

Ojo was somewhat disturbed as he listened to
this, and the boy began to fear he had done wrong
in adding all those different qualities of brains
to the lot Margolotte had prepared for the
servant. But it was too late now for regret, since
all the brains were securely sewn up inside the
Patchwork Girl's head. He might have confessed
what he had done and thus allowed Margolotte and
her husband to change the brains; but he was
afraid of incurring their anger. He believed that
Unc had seen him add to the brains, and Unc had
not said a word against it; but then, Unc never
did say anything unless it was absolutely
necessary.

As soon as breakfast was over they all went
into the Magician's big workshop, where the
Glass Cat was lying before the mirror and the
Patchwork Girl lay limp and lifeless upon the
bench.

"Now, then," said Dr. Pipt, in a brisk tone,
"we shall perform one of the greatest feats of
magic possible to man, even in this marvelous
Land of Oz. In no other country could it be
done at all. I think we ought to have a little
music while the Patchwork Girl comes to life.
It is pleasant to reflect that the first sounds her
golden ears will hear will be delicious music."

As he spoke he went to a phonograph, which
screwed fast to a small table, and wound up
the spring of the instrument and adjusted the
big gold horn.

"The music my servant will usually hear,"
remarked Margolotte, "will be my orders to do
her work. But I see no harm in allowing her to
listen to this unseen band while she wakens to
her first realization of life. My orders will beat
the band, afterward."

The phonograph was now playing a stirring
march tune and the Magician unlocked his
cabinet and took out the gold bottle containing
the Powder of Life.

They all bent over the bench on which the
Patchwork Girl reclined. Unc Nunkie and Margolotte
stood behind, near the windows, Ojo at one side
and the Magician in front, where he would have
freedom to sprinkle the powder. The Glass Cat came
near, too, curious to watch the important scene.

"All ready?" asked Dr. Pipt.

"All is ready," answered his wife.

So the Magician leaned over and shook from
the bottle some grains of the wonderful Powder,
and they fell directly on the Patchwork Girl's
head and arms.

Chapter Five

A Terrible Accident

"It will take a few minutes for this powder to
do its work," remarked the Magician, sprinkling
the body up and down with much care.

But suddenly the Patchwork Girl threw up one
arm, which knocked the bottle of powder from the
crooked man's hand and sent it flying across the
room. Unc Nunkie and Margolotte were so startled
that they both leaped backward and bumped
together, and Unc's head joggled the shelf above
them and upset the bottle containing the Liquid of
Petrifaction.

The Magician uttered such a wild cry that Ojo
jumped away and the Patchwork Girl sprang after
him and clasped her stuffed arms around him in
terror. The Glass Cat snarled and hid under the
table, and so it was that when the powerful Liquid
of Petrifaction was spilled it fell only upon the
wife of the Magician and the uncle of Ojo. With
these two the charm worked promptly. They stood
motionless and stiff as marble statues, in exactly
the positions they were in when the Liquid struck
them.

Ojo pushed the Patchwork Girl away and
ran to Unc Nunkie, filled with a terrible fear
for the only friend and protector he had ever
known. When he grasped Unc's hand it was
cold and hard. Even the long gray beard was
solid marble. The Crooked Magician was
dancing around the room in a frenzy of despair,
calling upon his wife to forgive him, to speak
to him, to come to life again!

The Patchwork Girl, quickly recovering from her
fright, now came nearer and looked from one to
another of the people with deep interest. Then she
looked at herself and laughed. Noticing the
mirror, she stood before it and examined her
extraordinary features with amazement--her button
eyes, pearl bead teeth and puffy nose. Then,
addressing her reflection in the glass, she exclaimed:

"Whee, but there's a gaudy dame!
Makes a paint-box blush with shame.
Razzle-dazzle, fizzle-fazzle!
Howdy-do, Miss What's-your-name?"

She bowed, and the reflection bowed. Then
she laughed again, long and merrily, and the
Glass Cat crept out from under the table and said:

"I don't blame you for laughing at yourself.
Aren't you horrid?"

"Horrid?" she replied. "Why, I'm thoroughly
delightful. I'm an Original, if you please, and
therefore incomparable. Of all the comic, absurd,
rare and amusing creatures the world contains, I
must be the supreme freak. Who but poor Margolotte
could have managed to invent such an unreasonable
being as I? But I'm glad--I'm awfully glad!--that
I'm just what I am, and nothing else."

"Be quiet, will you?" cried the frantic
Magician; "be quiet and let me think! If I don't
think I shall go mad."

"Think ahead," said the Patchwork Girl, seating
herself in a chair. "Think all you want to. I
don't mind."

"Gee! but I'm tired playing that tune," called
the phonograph, speaking through its horn in
a brazen, scratchy voice. "If you don't mind,
Pipt, old boy, I'll cut it out and take a rest."

The Magician looked gloomily at the music-
machine.

"What dreadful luck!" he wailed, despondently.
"The Powder of Life must have fallen on the
phonograph."

He went up to it and found that the gold bottle
that contained the precious powder had dropped
upon the stand and scattered its life-giving
grains over the machine. The phonograph was very
much alive, and began dancing a jig with the legs
of the table to which it was attached, and this
dance so annoyed Dr. Pipt that he kicked the thing
into a corner and pushed a bench against it, to
hold it quiet.

"You were bad enough before," said the Magician,
resentfully; "but a live phonograph is enough to
drive every sane person in the Land of Oz stark
crazy."

"No insults, please," answered the phonograph in
a surly tone. "You did it, my boy; don't blame
me."

"You've bungled everything, Dr. Pipt," added
the Glass Cat, contemptuously.

"Except me," said the Patchwork Girl, jumping up
to whirl merrily around the room.

"I think," said Ojo, almost ready to cry
through grief over Unc Nunkie's sad fate, "it
must all be my fault, in some way. I'm called
Ojo the Unlucky, you know."

"That's nonsense, kiddie," retorted the
Patchwork Girl cheerfully. "No one can be unlucky
who has the intelligence to direct his own
actions. The unlucky ones are those who beg for a
chance to think, like poor Dr. Pipt here. What's
the row about, anyway, Mr. Magic-maker?"

"The Liquid of Petrifaction has accidentally
fallen upon my dear wife and Unc Nunkie and
turned them into marble," he sadly replied.

"Well, why don't you sprinkle some of that
powder on them and bring them to life again?"
asked the Patchwork Girl.

The Magician gave a jump.

"Why, I hadn't thought of that!" he joyfully
cried, and grabbed up the golden bottle, with
which he ran to Margolotte.

Said the Patchwork Girl:

"Higgledy, piggledy, dee--
What fools magicians be!
His head's so thick
He can't think quick,
So he takes advice from me."

Standing upon the bench, for he was so
crooked he could not reach the top of his wife's
head in any other way, Dr. Pipt began shaking
the bottle. But not a grain of powder came out.
He pulled off the cover, glanced within, and
then threw the bottle from him with a wail of
despair.

"Gone--gone! Every bit gone," he cried.
"Wasted on that miserable phonograph when
it might have saved my dear wife!"

Then the Magician bowed his head on his
crooked arms and began to cry.

Ojo was sorry for him. He went up to the
sorrowful man and said softly:

"You can make more Powder of Life, Dr. Pipt."

"Yes; but it will take me six years--six long,
weary years of stirring four kettles with both
feet and both hands," was the agonized reply. "Six
years! while poor Margolotte stands watching me as
a marble image."

"Can't anything else be done?" asked the
Patchwork Girl.

The Magician shook his head. Then he seemed to
remember something and looked up.

"There is one other compound that would destroy
the magic spell of the Liquid of Petrifaction and
restore my wife and Unc Nunkie to life," said he.
"It may be hard to find the things I need to make
this magic compound, but if they were found I
could do in an instant what will otherwise take
six long, weary years of stirring kettles with
both hands and both feet."

"All right; let's find the things, then,"
suggested the Patchwork Girl. "That seems a lot
more sensible than those stirring times with the
kettles."

"That's the idea, Scraps," said the Glass Cat,
approvingly. "I'm glad to find you have decent
brains. Mine are exceptionally good. You can
see 'em work; they're pink."

"Scraps?" repeated the girl. "Did you call me
'Scraps'? Is that my name?"

"I--I believe my poor wife had intended to
name you 'Angeline,'" said the Magician.

"But I like 'Scraps' best," she replied with a
laugh. "It fits me better, for my patchwork is
all scraps, and nothing else. Thank you for
naming me, Miss Cat. Have you any name of
your own?"

"I have a foolish name that Margolotte once
gave me, but which is quite undignified for
one of my importance," answered the cat. "She
called me 'Bungle.'"

"Yes," sighed the Magician; "you were a sad
bungle, taken all in all. I was wrong to make
you as I did, for a more useless, conceited and
brittle thing never before existed."

"I'm not so brittle as you think," retorted the
cat. "I've been alive a good many years, for
Dr. Pipt experimented on me with the first
magic Powder of Life he ever made, and so
far I've never broken or cracked or chipped any
part of me."

"You seem to have a chip on your shoulder,"
laughed the Patchwork Girl, and the cat went
to the mirror to see.

"Tell me," pleaded Ojo, speaking to the
Crooked Magician, "what must we find to make
the compound that will save Unc Nunkie?"

"First," was the reply, "I must have a six-
leaved clover. That can only be found in the green
country around the Emerald City, and six-leaved
clovers are very scarce, even there."

"I'll find it for you," promised Ojo.

"The next thing," continued the Magician,
"is the left wing of a yellow butterfly. That
color can only be found in the yellow country
of the Winkies, West of the Emerald City."

"I'll find it," declared Ojo. "Is that all?"

"Oh, no; I'll get my Book of Recipes and see
what comes next."

Saying this, the Magician unlocked a drawer
of his cabinet and drew out a small book covered
with blue leather. Looking through the pages
he found the recipe he wanted and said: "I
must have a gill of water from a dark well."

"What kind of a well is that, sir?" asked the
boy.

"One where the light of day never penetrates.
The water must be put in a gold bottle and brought
to me without any light ever reaching it."

"I'll get the water from the dark well," said
Ojo.

"Then I must have three hairs from the tip
of a Woozy's tail, and a drop of oil from a live
man's body."

Ojo looked grave at this.

"What is a Woozy, please?" he inquired.

"Some sort of an animal. I've never seen one,
so I can't describe it," replied the Magician.

"If I can find a Woozy, I'll get the hairs from
its tail," said Ojo. "But is there ever any oil in a
man's body?"

The Magician looked in the book again, to make
sure.

"That's what the recipe calls for," he replied,
"and of course we must get everything that is
called for, or the charm won't work. The book
doesn't say 'blood'; it says 'oil,' and there must
be oil somewhere in a live man's body or the
book wouldn't ask for it."

"All right," returned Ojo, trying not to feel
discouraged; "I'll try to find it."

The Magician looked at the little Munchkin
boy in a doubtful way and said:

"All this will mean a long journey for you;
perhaps several long journeys; for you must search
through several of the different countries of Oz
in order to get the things I need."

"I know it, sir; but I must do my best to save
Unc Nunkie."

"And also my poor wife Margolotte. If you save
one you will save the other, for both stand there
together and the same compound will restore them
both to life. Do the best you can, Ojo, and while
you are gone I shall begin the six years job of
making a new batch of the Powder of Life. Then, if
you should unluckily fail to secure any one of the
things needed, I will have lost no time. But if
you succeed you must return here as quickly as you
can, and that will save me much tiresome stirring
of four kettles with both feet and both hands."

"I will start on my journey at once, sir," said
the boy.

"And I will go with you," declared the Patchwork
Girl.

"No, no!" exclaimed the Magician. "You have no
right to leave this house. You are only a servant
and have not been discharged."

Scraps, who had been dancing up and down
the room, stopped and looked at him.

"What is a servant?" she asked.

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