Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 5.

5. The Rescue of the Tin Woodman.

When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and
Toto had long been out chasing birds around him and squirrels.
She sat up and looked around her. Scarecrow, still standing
patiently in his corner, waiting for her.

"We must go and search for water," she said to him.

"Why do you want water?" he asked.

"To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to
drink, so the dry bread will not stick in my throat."

"It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh," said the
Scarecrow thoughtfully, "for you must sleep, and eat and drink.
However, you have brains, and it is worth a lot of bother to be
able to think properly."

They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they
found a little spring of clear water, where Dorothy drank and
bathed and ate her breakfast. She saw there was not much bread
left in the basket, and the girl was thankful the Scarecrow did
not have to eat anything, for there was scarcely enough for
herself and Toto for the day.

When she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the
road of yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan near by.

"What was that?" she asked timidly.

"I cannot imagine," replied the Scarecrow; "but we can go and see."

Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound
seemed to come from behind them. They turned and walked through
the forest a few steps, when Dorothy discovered something shining
in a ray of sunshine that fell between the trees. She ran to the
place and then stopped short, with a little cry of surprise.

One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and
standing beside it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man
made entirely of tin. His head and arms and legs were jointed
upon his body, but he stood perfectly motionless, as if he could
not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow,
while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which
hurt his teeth.

"Did you groan?" asked Dorothy.

"Yes," answered the tin man, "I did. I've been groaning for more
than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me."

"What can I do for you?" she inquired softly, for she was
moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke.

"Get an oil-can and oil my joints," he answered. "They are
rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled
I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a
shelf in my cottage."

Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can,
and then she returned and asked anxiously, "Where are your joints?"

"Oil my neck, first," replied the Tin Woodman. So she oiled it,
and as it was quite badly rusted the Scarecrow took hold of the tin
head and moved it gently from side to side until it worked freely,
and then the man could turn it himself.

"Now oil the joints in my arms," he said. And Dorothy oiled
them and the Scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite
free from rust and as good as new.

The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his
axe, which he leaned against the tree.

"This is a great comfort," he said. "I have been holding that
axe in the air ever since I rusted, and I'm glad to be able to put
it down at last. Now, if you will oil the joints of my legs, I
shall be all right once more."

So they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he
thanked them again and again for his release, for he seemed a very
polite creature, and very grateful.

"I might have stood there always if you had not come along," he said;
"so you have certainly saved my life. How did you happen to be here?"

"We are on our way to the Emerald City to see the Great Oz,"
she answered, "and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night."

"Why do you wish to see Oz?" he asked.

"I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants
him to put a few brains into his head," she replied.

The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said:

"Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?"

"Why, I guess so," Dorothy answered. "It would be as easy as
to give the Scarecrow brains."

"True," the Tin Woodman returned. "So, if you will allow me
to join your party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz
to help me."

"Come along," said the Scarecrow heartily, and Dorothy added
that she would be pleased to have his company. So the Tin Woodman
shouldered his axe and they all passed through the forest until
they came to the road that was paved with yellow brick.

The Tin Woodman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket.
"For," he said, "if I should get caught in the rain, and rust again,
I would need the oil-can badly."

It was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade join the
party, for soon after they had begun their journey again they came
to a place where the trees and branches grew so thick over the
road that the travelers could not pass. But the Tin Woodman set
to work with his axe and chopped so well that soon he cleared a
passage for the entire party.

Dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that
she did not notice when the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and
rolled over to the side of the road. Indeed he was obliged to
call to her to help him up again.

"Why didn't you walk around the hole?" asked the Tin Woodman.

"I don't know enough," replied the Scarecrow cheerfully.
"My head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am
going to Oz to ask him for some brains."

"Oh, I see," said the Tin Woodman. "But, after all, brains
are not the best things in the world."

"Have you any?" inquired the Scarecrow.

"No, my head is quite empty," answered the Woodman.
"But once I had brains, and a heart also; so, having tried
them both, I should much rather have a heart."

"And why is that?" asked the Scarecrow.

"I will tell you my story, and then you will know."

So, while they were walking through the forest, the Tin Woodman
told the following story:

"I was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the
forest and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up, I too became
a woodchopper, and after my father died I took care of my old mother
as long as she lived. Then I made up my mind that instead of living
alone I would marry, so that I might not become lonely.

"There was one of the Munchkin girls who was so beautiful
that I soon grew to love her with all my heart. She, on her part,
promised to marry me as soon as I could earn enough money to
build a better house for her; so I set to work harder than ever.
But the girl lived with an old woman who did not want her to marry
anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the girl to remain with her
and do the cooking and the housework. So the old woman went to
the Wicked Witch of the East, and promised her two sheep and a cow
if she would prevent the marriage. Thereupon the Wicked Witch
enchanted my axe, and when I was chopping away at my best one day,
for I was anxious to get the new house and my wife as soon as
possible, the axe slipped all at once and cut off my left leg.

"This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a
one-legged man could not do very well as a wood-chopper. So I
went to a tinsmith and had him make me a new leg out of tin. The
leg worked very well, once I was used to it. But my action
angered the Wicked Witch of the East, for she had promised the old
woman I should not marry the pretty Munchkin girl. When I began
chopping again, my axe slipped and cut off my right leg. Again I
went to the tinsmith, and again he made me a leg out of tin.
After this the enchanted axe cut off my arms, one after the
other; but, nothing daunted, I had them replaced with tin ones.
The Wicked Witch then made the axe slip and cut off my head, and
at first I thought that was the end of me. But the tinsmith
happened to come along, and he made me a new head out of tin.

"I thought I had beaten the Wicked Witch then, and I worked
harder than ever; but I little knew how cruel my enemy could be.
She thought of a new way to kill my love for the beautiful
Munchkin maiden, and made my axe slip again, so that it cut right
through my body, splitting me into two halves. Once more the
tinsmith came to my help and made me a body of tin, fastening my
tin arms and legs and head to it, by means of joints, so that I
could move around as well as ever. But, alas! I had now no
heart, so that I lost all my love for the Munchkin girl, and did
not care whether I married her or not. I suppose she is still
living with the old woman, waiting for me to come after her.

"My body shone so brightly in the sun that I felt very proud
of it and it did not matter now if my axe slipped, for it could
not cut me. There was only one danger--that my joints would
rust; but I kept an oil-can in my cottage and took care to oil
myself whenever I needed it. However, there came a day when I
forgot to do this, and, being caught in a rainstorm, before I
thought of the danger my joints had rusted, and I was left to
stand in the woods until you came to help me. It was a terrible
thing to undergo, but during the year I stood there I had time to
think that the greatest loss I had known was the loss of my heart.
While I was in love I was the happiest man on earth; but no one
can love who has not a heart, and so I am resolved to ask Oz to
give me one. If he does, I will go back to the Munchkin maiden
and marry her."

Both Dorothy and the Scarecrow had been greatly interested
in the story of the Tin Woodman, and now they knew why he was so
anxious to get a new heart.

"All the same," said the Scarecrow, "I shall ask for brains
instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a
heart if he had one."

"I shall take the heart," returned the Tin Woodman; "for
brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing
in the world."

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know
which of her two friends was right, and she decided if she could
only get back to Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much
whether the Woodman had no brains and the Scarecrow no heart,
or each got what he wanted.

What worried her most was that the bread was nearly gone, and
another meal for herself and Toto would empty the basket. To be sure
neither the Woodman nor the Scarecrow ever ate anything, but she was
not made of tin nor straw, and could not live unless she was fed.

Heidi: Chapter Two, Part 1.

Heidi; Chapter Two, Part 1:

With the Grandfather.

After Deta had disappeared, the Uncle sat down again on the bench,
blowing big clouds of smoke out of his pipe. He did not speak, but
kept his eyes fastened on the ground. In the meantime Heidi looked
about her, and discovering the goat-shed, peeped in. Nothing could be
seen inside. Searching for some more interesting thing, she saw the
three old fir-trees behind the hut. Here the wind was roaring through
the branches and the tree-tops were swaying to and fro. Heidi stood
still to listen. After the wind had ceased somewhat, she walked round
the hut back to her grandfather. She found him in exactly the same
position, and planting herself in front of the old man, with arms
folded behind her back, she gazed at him. The grandfather, looking up,
saw the child standing motionless before him. "What do you want to do
now?" he asked her.

"I want to see what's in the hut," replied Heidi.

"Come then," and with that the grandfather got up and entered the
cottage.

"Take your things along," he commanded.

"I do not want them any more," answered Heidi.

The old man, turning about, threw a penetrating glance at her. The
child's black eyes were sparkling in expectation of all the things to
come. "She is not lacking in intelligence," he muttered to himself.
Aloud he added: "Why don't you need them any more?"

"I want to go about like the light-footed goats!"

"All right, you can; but fetch the things and we'll put them in the
cupboard." The child obeyed the command. The old man now opened the
door, and Heidi followed him into a fairly spacious room, which took
in the entire expanse of the hut. In one corner stood a table and a
chair, and in another the grandfather's bed. Across the room a large
kettle was suspended over the hearth, and opposite to it a large door
was sunk into the wall. This the grandfather opened. It was the
cupboard, in which all his clothes were kept. In one shelf were a few
shirts, socks and towels; on another a few plates, cups and glasses;
and on the top shelf Heidi could see a round loaf of bread, some bacon
and cheese. In this cupboard the grandfather kept everything that he
needed for his subsistence. When he opened it, Heidi pushed her things
as far behind the grandfather's clothes as she could reach. She did
not want them found again in a hurry. After looking around attentively
in the room, she asked, "Where am I going to sleep, grandfather?"

"Wherever you want to," he replied. That suited Heidi exactly. She
peeped into all the corners of the room and looked at every little
nook to find a cosy place to sleep. Beside the old man's bed she saw a
ladder. Climbing up, she arrived at a hayloft, which was filled with
fresh and fragrant hay. Through a tiny round window she could look far
down into the valley.

"I want to sleep up here," Heidi called down. "Oh, it is lovely here.
Please come up, grandfather, and see it for yourself."

"I know it," sounded from below.

"I am making the bed now," the little girl called out again, while she
ran busily to and fro. "Oh, do come up and bring a sheet, grandfather,
for every bed must have a sheet."

"Is that so?" said the old man. After a while he opened the cupboard
and rummaged around in it. At last he pulled out a long coarse cloth
from under the shirts. It somewhat resembled a sheet, and with this he
climbed up to the loft. Here a neat little bed was already prepared.
On top the hay was heaped up high so that the head of the occupant
would lie exactly opposite the window.

The grandfather was well pleased with the arrangement. To prevent the
hard floor from being felt, he made the couch twice as thick. Then he
and Heidi together put the heavy sheet on, tucking the ends in well.
Heidi looked thoughtfully at her fresh, new bed and said,
"Grandfather, we have forgotten something."

"What?" he asked.

"I have no cover. When I go to bed I always creep in between the sheet
and the cover."

"What shall we do if I haven't any?" asked the grandfather.

"Never mind, I'll just take some more hay to cover me," Heidi
reassured him, and was just going to the heap of hay when the old man
stopped her.

"Just wait one minute," he said, and went down to his own bed. From it
he took a large, heavy linen bag and brought it to the child.

"Isn't this better than hay?" he asked.

Heidi pulled the sack to and fro with all her might, but she could not
unfold it, for it was too heavy for her little arms. The grandfather
put the thick cover on the bed while Heidi watched him. After it was
all done, she said: "What a nice bed I have now, and what a splendid
cover! I only wish the evening was here, that I might go to sleep in
it."

"I think we might eat something first," said the grandfather. "Don't
you think so?"

Heidi had forgotten everything else in her interest for the bed; but
when she was reminded of her dinner, she noticed how terribly hungry
she really was. She had had only a piece of bread and a cup of thin
coffee very early in the morning, before her long journey. Heidi said
approvingly: "I think we might, grandfather!"

"Let's go down then, if we agree," said the old man, and followed
close behind her. Going up to the fireplace, he pushed the big kettle
aside and reached for a smaller one that was suspended on a chain.
Then sitting down on a three-legged stool, he kindled a bright fire.
When the kettle was boiling, the old man put a large piece of cheese
on a long iron fork, and held it over the fire, turning it to and fro,
till it was golden-brown on all sides. Heidi had watched him eagerly.
Suddenly she ran to the cupboard. When her grandfather brought a pot
and the toasted cheese to the table, he found it already nicely set
with two plates and two knives and the bread in the middle. Heidi had
seen the things in the cupboard and knew that they would be needed for
the meal.

"I am glad to see that you can think for yourself," said the
grandfather, while he put the cheese on top of the bread, "but
something is missing yet."

Heidi saw the steaming pot and ran back to the cupboard in all haste.
A single little bowl was on the shelf. That did not perplex Heidi
though, for she saw two glasses standing behind. With those three
things she returned to the table.

"You certainly can help yourself! Where shall you sit, though?" asked
the grandfather, who occupied the only chair himself, Heidi flew to
the hearth, and bringing back the little stool, sat down on it.

"Now you have a seat, but it is much too low. In fact, you are too
little to reach the table from my chair. Now you shall have something
to eat at last!" and with that the grandfather filled the little bowl
with milk. Putting it on his chair, he pushed it as near to the stool
as was possible, and in that way Heidi had a table before her. He
commanded her to eat the large piece of bread and the slice of golden
cheese. He sat down himself on a corner of the table and started his
own dinner. Heidi drank without stopping, for she felt exceedingly
thirsty after her long journey. Taking a long breath, she put down her
little bowl.

"How do you like the milk?" the grandfather asked her.

"I never tasted better," answered Heidi.

"Then you shall have more," and with that the grandfather filled the
little bowl again. The little girl ate and drank with the greatest
enjoyment. After she was through, both went out into the goat-shed.
Here the old man busied himself, and Heidi watched him attentively
while he was sweeping and putting down fresh straw for the goats to
sleep on. Then he went to the little shop alongside and fashioned a
high chair for Heidi, to the little girl's greatest amazement.

"What is this?" asked the grandfather.

"This is a chair for me. I am sure of it because it is so high. How
quickly it was made!" said the child, full of admiration and wonder.

"She knows what is what and has her eyes on the right place," the
grandfather said to himself, while he walked around the hut, fastening
a nail or a loose board here and there. He wandered about with his
hammer and nails, repairing whatever was in need of fixing. Heidi
followed him at every step and watched the performance with great
enjoyment and attention.

Talking Books: Heidi; Chapter One, Part 3:

Heidi: Chapter One, Part 3.

Deta waited about ten minutes to see if the children were coming up
behind with the goats. As she could not find them anywhere, she
climbed up a little higher to get a better view down the valley from
there, and peered from side to side with marks of great impatience on
her countenance.

The children in the meantime were ascending slowly in a zigzag way,
Peter always knowing where to find all sorts of good grazing places
for his goats where they could nibble. Thus they strayed from side to
side. The poor little girl had followed the boy only with the greatest
effort and she was panting in her heavy clothes. She was so hot and
uncomfortable that she only climbed by exerting all her strength. She
did not say anything but looked enviously at Peter, who jumped about
so easily in his light trousers and bare feet. She envied even more
the goats that climbed over bushes, stones, and steep inclines with
their slender legs. Suddenly sitting down on the ground the child
swiftly took off her shoes and stockings. Getting up she undid the
heavy shawl and the two little dresses. Out she slipped without more
ado and stood up in only a light petticoat. In sheer delight at the
relief, she threw up her dimpled arms, that were bare up to her short
sleeves. To save the trouble of carrying them, her aunt had dressed
her in her Sunday clothes over her workday garments. Heidi arranged
her dresses neatly in a heap and joined Peter and the goats. She was
now as light-footed as any of them. When Peter, who had not paid much
attention, saw her suddenly in her light attire, he grinned. Looking
back, he saw the little heap of dresses on the ground and then he
grinned yet more, till his mouth seemed to reach from ear to ear; but
he said never a word.

The child, feeling free and comfortable, started to converse with
Peter, and he had to answer many questions. She asked him how many
goats he had, and where he led them, what he did with them when he got
there, and so forth.

At last the children reached the summit in front of the hut. When Deta
saw the little party of climbers she cried out shrilly: "Heidi, what
have you done? What a sight you are! Where are your dresses and your
shawl? Are the new shoes gone that I just bought for you, and the new
stockings that I made myself? Where are they all, Heidi?"

The child quietly pointed down and said "There."

The aunt followed the direction of her finger and descried a little
heap with a small red dot in the middle, which she recognized as the
shawl.

"Unlucky child!" Deta said excitedly. "What does all this mean? Why
have you taken your things all off?"

"Because I do not need them," said the child, not seeming in the least
repentant of her deed.

"How can you be so stupid, Heidi? Have you lost your senses?" the aunt
went on, in a tone of mingled vexation and reproach. "Who do you think
will go way down there to fetch those things up again? It is
half-an-hour's walk. Please, Peter, run down and get them. Do not
stand and stare at me as if you were glued to the spot."

"I am late already," replied Peter, and stood without moving from the
place where, with his hands in his trousers' pockets, he had witnessed
the violent outbreak of Heidi's aunt.

"There you are, standing and staring, but that won't get you further,"
said Deta. "I'll give you this if you go down." With that she held a
five-penny-piece under his eyes. That made Peter start and in a great
hurry he ran down the straightest path. He arrived again in so short a
time that Deta had to praise him and gave him her little coin without
delay. He did not often get such a treasure, and therefore his face
was beaming and he laughingly dropped the money deep into his pocket.

"If you are going up to the uncle, as we are, you can carry the pack
till we get there," said Deta. They still had to climb a steep ascent
that lay behind Peter's hut. The boy readily took the things and
followed Deta, his left arm holding the bundle and his right swinging
the stick. Heidi jumped along gaily by his side with the goats.

After three quarters of an hour they reached the height where the hut
of the old man stood on a prominent rock, exposed to every wind, but
bathed in the full sunlight. From there you could gaze far down into
the valley. Behind the hut stood three old fir-trees with great shaggy
branches. Further back the old grey rocks rose high and sheer. Above
them you could see green and fertile pastures, till at last the stony
boulders reached the bare, steep cliffs.

Overlooking the valley the uncle had made himself a bench, by the side
of the hut. Here he sat, with his pipe between his teeth and both
hands resting on his knees. He quietly watched the children climbing
up with the goats and Aunt Deta behind them, for the children had
caught up to her long ago. Heidi reached the top first, and
approaching the old man she held out her hand to him and said: "Good
evening, grandfather!"

"Well, well, what does that mean?" replied the old man in a rough
voice. Giving her his hand for only a moment, he watched her with a
long and penetrating look from under his bushy brows. Heidi gazed back
at him with an unwinking glance and examined him with much curiosity,
for he was strange to look at, with his thick, grey beard and shaggy
eyebrows, that met in the middle like a thicket.

Heidi's aunt had arrived in the meantime with Peter, who was eager to
see what was going to happen.

"Good-day to you, uncle," said Deta as she approached. "This is
Tobias's and Adelheid's child. You won't be able to remember her,
because last time you saw her she was scarcely a year old."

"Why do you bring her here?" asked the uncle, and turning to Peter he
said: "Get away and bring my goats. How late you are already!"

Peter obeyed and disappeared on the spot; the uncle had looked at him
in such a manner that he was glad to go.

"Uncle, I have brought the little girl for you to keep," said Deta. "I
have done my share these last four years and now it is your turn to
provide for her."

The old man's eyes flamed with anger. "Indeed!" he said. "What on
earth shall I do, when she begins to whine and cry for you? Small
children always do, and then I'll be helpless."

"You'll have to look out for that!" Deta retorted. "When the little
baby was left in my hands a few years ago, I had to find out how to
care for the little innocent myself and nobody told me anything. I
already had mother on my hands and there was plenty for me to do. You
can't blame me if I want to earn some money now. If you can't keep the
child, you can do with her whatever you please. If she comes to harm
you are responsible and I am sure you do not want to burden your
conscience any further."

Deta had said more in her excitement than she had intended, just
because her conscience was not quite clear. The uncle had risen during
her last words and now he gave her such a look that she retreated a
few steps. Stretching out his arm in a commanding gesture, he said to
her: "Away with you! Begone! Stay wherever you came from and don't
venture soon again into my sight!"

Deta did not have to be told twice. She said "Good-bye" to Heidi and
"Farewell" to the uncle, and started down the mountain. Like steam her
excitement seemed to drive her forward, and she ran down at a
tremendous rate. The people in the village called to her now more than
they had on her way up, because they all were wondering where she had
left the child. They were well acquainted with both and knew their
history. When she heard from door and windows: "Where is the child?"
"Where have you left her, Deta?" and so forth, she answered more and
more reluctantly: "Up with the Alm-Uncle,--with the Alm-Uncle!" She
became much provoked because the women called to her from every side:
"How could you do it?" "The poor little creature!" "The idea of
leaving such a helpless child up there!" and, over and over again:
"The poor little dear!" Deta ran as quickly as she could and was glad
when she heard no more calls, because, to tell the truth, she herself
was uneasy. Her mother had asked her on her deathbed to care for
Heidi. But she consoled herself with the thought that she would be
able to do more for the child if she could earn some money. She was
very glad to go away from people who interfered in her affairs, and
looked forward with great delight to her new place.
(End of Chapter 1)

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 4.

4. The Road Through the Forest.

After a few hours the road began to be rough, and the walking
grew so difficult that the Scarecrow often stumbled over the
yellow bricks, which were here very uneven. Sometimes, indeed,
they were broken or missing altogether, leaving holes that Toto
jumped across and Dorothy walked around. As for the Scarecrow,
having no brains, he walked straight ahead, and so stepped into
the holes and fell at full length on the hard bricks. It never hurt
him, however, and Dorothy would pick him up and set him upon his
feet again, while he joined her in laughing merrily at his own mishap.

The farms were not nearly so well cared for here as they were
farther back. There were fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and
the farther they went the more dismal and lonesome the country became.

At noon they sat down by the roadside, near a little brook,
and Dorothy opened her basket and got out some bread. She offered
a piece to the Scarecrow, but he refused.

"I am never hungry," he said, "and it is a lucky thing I am not,
for my mouth is only painted, and if I should cut a hole in it so
I could eat, the straw I am stuffed with would come out, and that
would spoil the shape of my head."

Dorothy saw at once that this was true, so she only nodded and
went on eating her bread.

"Tell me something about yourself and the country you came from,"
said the Scarecrow, when she had finished her dinner. So she told him
all about Kansas, and how gray everything was there, and how the cyclone
had carried her to this queer Land of Oz.

The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, "I cannot
understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and
go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas."

"That is because you have no brains" answered the girl.
"No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of
flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country,
be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home."

The Scarecrow sighed.

"Of course I cannot understand it," he said. "If your heads
were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in
the beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all.
It is fortunate for Kansas that you have brains."

"Won't you tell me a story, while we are resting?" asked the child.

The Scarecrow looked at her reproachfully, and answered:

"My life has been so short that I really know nothing whatever.
I was only made day before yesterday. What happened in the world
before that time is all unknown to me. Luckily, when the farmer
made my head, one of the first things he did was to paint my ears,
so that I heard what was going on. There was another Munchkin with him,
and the first thing I heard was the farmer saying, `How do you like
those ears?'

"`They aren't straight,'" answered the other.

"`Never mind,'" said the farmer. "`They are ears just the same,'"
which was true enough.

"`Now I'll make the eyes,'" said the farmer. So he painted my
right eye, and as soon as it was finished I found myself looking
at him and at everything around me with a great deal of curiosity,
for this was my first glimpse of the world.

"`That's a rather pretty eye,'" remarked the Munchkin who was
watching the farmer. "`Blue paint is just the color for eyes.'

"`I think I'll make the other a little bigger,'" said the
farmer. And when the second eye was done I could see much better
than before. Then he made my nose and my mouth. But I did not
speak, because at that time I didn't know what a mouth was for.
I had the fun of watching them make my body and my arms and legs;
and when they fastened on my head, at last, I felt very proud,
for I thought I was just as good a man as anyone.

"`This fellow will scare the crows fast enough,' said the
farmer. `He looks just like a man.'

"`Why, he is a man,' said the other, and I quite agreed with him.
The farmer carried me under his arm to the cornfield, and set me up
on a tall stick, where you found me. He and his friend soon after
walked away and left me alone.

"I did not like to be deserted this way. So I tried to walk
after them. But my feet would not touch the ground, and I was
forced to stay on that pole. It was a lonely life to lead, for I
had nothing to think of, having been made such a little while before.
Many crows and other birds flew into the cornfield, but as soon as
they saw me they flew away again, thinking I was a Munchkin; and this
pleased me and made me feel that I was quite an important person.
By and by an old crow flew near me, and after looking at me carefully
he perched upon my shoulder and said:

"`I wonder if that farmer thought to fool me in this clumsy
manner. Any crow of sense could see that you are only stuffed
with straw.' Then he hopped down at my feet and ate all the corn
he wanted. The other birds, seeing he was not harmed by me, came
to eat the corn too, so in a short time there was a great flock of
them about me.

"I felt sad at this, for it showed I was not such a good
Scarecrow after all; but the old crow comforted me, saying,
`If you only had brains in your head you would be as good a man
as any of them, and a better man than some of them. Brains are
the only things worth having in this world, no matter whether one
is a crow or a man.'

"After the crows had gone I thought this over, and decided I
would try hard to get some brains. By good luck you came along
and pulled me off the stake, and from what you say I am sure the
Great Oz will give me brains as soon as we get to the Emerald City."

"I hope so," said Dorothy earnestly, "since you seem anxious
to have them."

"Oh, yes; I am anxious," returned the Scarecrow. "It is such
an uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool."

"Well," said the girl, "let us go." And she handed the basket
to the Scarecrow.

There were no fences at all by the roadside now, and the land
was rough and untilled. Toward evening they came to a great
forest, where the trees grew so big and close together that their
branches met over the road of yellow brick. It was almost dark
under the trees, for the branches shut out the daylight; but the
travelers did not stop, and went on into the forest.

"If this road goes in, it must come out," said the Scarecrow,
"and as the Emerald City is at the other end of the road, we must
go wherever it leads us."

"Anyone would know that," said Dorothy.

"Certainly; that is why I know it," returned the Scarecrow.
"If it required brains to figure it out, I never should have said it."

After an hour or so the light faded away, and they found
themselves stumbling along in the darkness. Dorothy could not see
at all, but Toto could, for some dogs see very well in the dark;
and the Scarecrow declared he could see as well as by day. So she
took hold of his arm and managed to get along fairly well.

"If you see any house, or any place where we can pass the
night," she said, "you must tell me; for it is very uncomfortable
walking in the dark."

Soon after the Scarecrow stopped.

"I see a little cottage at the right of us," he said,
"built of logs and branches. Shall we go there?"

"Yes, indeed," answered the child. "I am all tired out."

So the Scarecrow led her through the trees until they reached
the cottage, and Dorothy entered and found a bed of dried leaves
in one corner. She lay down at once, and with Toto beside her
soon fell into a sound sleep. The Scarecrow, who was never tired,
stood up in another corner and waited patiently until morning came.

Talking Books: The Wizard of Oz, Chapter 3:

3. How Dorothy Saved the Scarecrow :

When Dorothy was left alone she began to feel hungry. So she
went to the cupboard and cut herself some bread, which she spread
with butter. She gave some to Toto, and taking a pail from the
shelf she carried it down to the little brook and filled it with
clear, sparkling water. Toto ran over to the trees and began to
bark at the birds sitting there. Dorothy went to get him, and saw
such delicious fruit hanging from the branches that she gathered
some of it, finding it just what she wanted to help out her breakfast.

Then she went back to the house, and having helped herself and
Toto to a good drink of the cool, clear water, she set about
making ready for the journey to the City of Emeralds.

Dorothy had only one other dress, but that happened to be
clean and was hanging on a peg beside her bed. It was gingham,
with checks of white and blue; and although the blue was somewhat
faded with many washings, it was still a pretty frock. The girl
washed herself carefully, dressed herself in the clean gingham,
and tied her pink sunbonnet on her head. She took a little basket
and filled it with bread from the cupboard, laying a white cloth
over the top. Then she looked down at her feet and noticed how
old and worn her shoes were.

"They surely will never do for a long journey, Toto," she said.
And Toto looked up into her face with his little black eyes and wagged
his tail to show he knew what she meant.

At that moment Dorothy saw lying on the table the silver shoes
that had belonged to the Witch of the East.

"I wonder if they will fit me," she said to Toto. "They would be
just the thing to take a long walk in, for they could not wear out."

She took off her old leather shoes and tried on the silver
ones, which fitted her as well as if they had been made for her.

Finally she picked up her basket.

"Come along, Toto," she said. "We will go to the Emerald City
and ask the Great Oz how to get back to Kansas again."

She closed the door, locked it, and put the key carefully in
the pocket of her dress. And so, with Toto trotting along soberly
behind her, she started on her journey.

There were several roads near by, but it did not take her long
to find the one paved with yellow bricks. Within a short time she
was walking briskly toward the Emerald City, her silver shoes
tinkling merrily on the hard, yellow road-bed. The sun shone
bright and the birds sang sweetly, and Dorothy did not feel
nearly so bad as you might think a little girl would who had
been suddenly whisked away from her own country and set down
in the midst of a strange land.

She was surprised, as she walked along, to see how pretty the
country was about her. There were neat fences at the sides of the
road, painted a dainty blue color, and beyond them were fields of
grain and vegetables in abundance. Evidently the Munchkins were
good farmers and able to raise large crops. Once in a while she
would pass a house, and the people came out to look at her and bow
low as she went by; for everyone knew she had been the means of
destroying the Wicked Witch and setting them free from bondage.
The houses of the Munchkins were odd-looking dwellings, for each
was round, with a big dome for a roof. All were painted blue,
for in this country of the East blue was the favorite color.

Toward evening, when Dorothy was tired with her long walk and
began to wonder where she should pass the night, she came to a
house rather larger than the rest. On the green lawn before it
many men and women were dancing. Five little fiddlers played as
loudly as possible, and the people were laughing and singing,
while a big table near by was loaded with delicious fruits and
nuts, pies and cakes, and many other good things to eat.

The people greeted Dorothy kindly, and invited her to supper and
to pass the night with them; for this was the home of one of the
richest Munchkins in the land, and his friends were gathered with
him to celebrate their freedom from the bondage of the Wicked Witch.

Dorothy ate a hearty supper and was waited upon by the rich
Munchkin himself, whose name was Boq. Then she sat upon a settee
and watched the people dance.

When Boq saw her silver shoes he said, "You must be a great sorceress."

"Why?" asked the girl.

"Because you wear silver shoes and have killed the Wicked Witch.
Besides, you have white in your frock, and only witches and sorceresses
wear white."

"My dress is blue and white checked," said Dorothy, smoothing
out the wrinkles in it.

"It is kind of you to wear that," said Boq. "Blue is the
color of the Munchkins, and white is the witch color. So we know
you are a friendly witch."

Dorothy did not know what to say to this, for all the people
seemed to think her a witch, and she knew very well she was only
an ordinary little girl who had come by the chance of a cyclone
into a strange land.

When she had tired watching the dancing, Boq led her into
the house, where he gave her a room with a pretty bed in it.
The sheets were made of blue cloth, and Dorothy slept soundly in
them till morning, with Toto curled up on the blue rug beside her.

She ate a hearty breakfast, and watched a wee Munchkin baby,
who played with Toto and pulled his tail and crowed and laughed in
a way that greatly amused Dorothy. Toto was a fine curiosity to
all the people, for they had never seen a dog before.

"How far is it to the Emerald City?" the girl asked.

"I do not know," answered Boq gravely, "for I have never been
there. It is better for people to keep away from Oz, unless they
have business with him. But it is a long way to the Emerald City,
and it will take you many days. The country here is rich and
pleasant, but you must pass through rough and dangerous places
before you reach the end of your journey."

This worried Dorothy a little, but she knew that only the
Great Oz could help her get to Kansas again, so she bravely
resolved not to turn back.

She bade her friends good-bye, and again started along the road
of yellow brick. When she had gone several miles she thought she
would stop to rest, and so climbed to the top of the fence beside
the road and sat down. There was a great cornfield beyond the fence,
and not far away she saw a Scarecrow, placed high on a pole to keep
the birds from the ripe corn.

Dorothy leaned her chin upon her hand and gazed thoughtfully
at the Scarecrow. Its head was a small sack stuffed with straw,
with eyes, nose, and mouth painted on it to represent a face.
An old, pointed blue hat, that had belonged to some Munchkin,
was perched on his head, and the rest of the figure was a blue suit
of clothes, worn and faded, which had also been stuffed with straw.
On the feet were some old boots with blue tops, such as every man
wore in this country, and the figure was raised above the stalks
of corn by means of the pole stuck up its back.

While Dorothy was looking earnestly into the queer, painted
face of the Scarecrow, she was surprised to see one of the eyes
slowly wink at her. She thought she must have been mistaken at first,
for none of the scarecrows in Kansas ever wink; but presently the
figure nodded its head to her in a friendly way. Then she climbed
down from the fence and walked up to it, while Toto ran around the
pole and barked.

"Good day," said the Scarecrow, in a rather husky voice.

"Did you speak?" asked the girl, in wonder.

"Certainly," answered the Scarecrow. "How do you do?"

"I'm pretty well, thank you," replied Dorothy politely.
"How do you do?"

"I'm not feeling well," said the Scarecrow, with a smile,
"for it is very tedious being perched up here night and day to
scare away crows."

"Can't you get down?" asked Dorothy.

"No, for this pole is stuck up my back. If you will please
take away the pole I shall be greatly obliged to you."

Dorothy reached up both arms and lifted the figure off the pole,
for, being stuffed with straw, it was quite light.

"Thank you very much," said the Scarecrow, when he had been
set down on the ground. "I feel like a new man."

Dorothy was puzzled at this, for it sounded queer to hear a
stuffed man speak, and to see him bow and walk along beside her.

"Who are you?" asked the Scarecrow when he had stretched
himself and yawned. "And where are you going?"

"My name is Dorothy," said the girl, "and I am going to the
Emerald City, to ask the Great Oz to send me back to Kansas."

"Where is the Emerald City?" he inquired. "And who is Oz?"

"Why, don't you know?" she returned, in surprise.

"No, indeed. I don't know anything. You see, I am stuffed,
so I have no brains at all," he answered sadly.

"Oh," said Dorothy, "I'm awfully sorry for you."

"Do you think," he asked, "if I go to the Emerald City with you,
that Oz would give me some brains?"

"I cannot tell," she returned, "but you may come with me,
if you like. If Oz will not give you any brains you will be
no worse off than you are now."

"That is true," said the Scarecrow. "You see," he continued
confidentially, "I don't mind my legs and arms and body being
stuffed, because I cannot get hurt. If anyone treads on my toes
or sticks a pin into me, it doesn't matter, for I can't feel it.
But I do not want people to call me a fool, and if my head stays
stuffed with straw instead of with brains, as yours is, how am I
ever to know anything?"

"I understand how you feel," said the little girl, who was
truly sorry for him. "If you will come with me I'll ask Oz to
do all he can for you."

"Thank you," he answered gratefully.

They walked back to the road. Dorothy helped him over the
fence, and they started along the path of yellow brick for the
Emerald City.

Toto did not like this addition to the party at first.
He smelled around the stuffed man as if he suspected there
might be a nest of rats in the straw, and he often growled
in an unfriendly way at the Scarecrow.

"Don't mind Toto," said Dorothy to her new friend.
"He never bites."

"Oh, I'm not afraid," replied the Scarecrow. "He can't hurt
the straw. Do let me carry that basket for you. I shall not mind
it, for I can't get tired. I'll tell you a secret," he continued,
as he walked along. "There is only one thing in the world I am
afraid of."

"What is that?" asked Dorothy; "the Munchkin farmer who made you?"

"No," answered the Scarecrow; "it's a lighted match."

Talking Books: Heidi: Chapter 1, Part 2

Heidi, Chapter One, Part 2:

Barbara had long been anxious to know something about the old uncle and why he lived apart from everybody. Nobody had a good word for him, and when people talked about him, they did not speak openly but as if they were afraid. She could not even explain to herself why he was called the Alm-Uncle. He could not possibly be the uncle of all the people in the village, but since everybody spoke of him so, she did the same. Barbara, who had only lived in the village since her marriage, was glad to get some information from her friend. Deta had been bred there, but since her mother's death had gone away to earn her livelihood.
She confidentially seized Deta's arm and said: "I wish you would tell me the truth about him, Deta; you know it all--people only gossip.Tell me, what has happened to the old man to turn everybody against him so? Did he always hate his fellow-creatures?"
"I cannot tell you whether he always did, and that for a very good reason. He being sixty years old, and I only twenty-six, you can't expect me to give you an account of his early youth. But if you'll promise to keep it to yourself and not set all the people in Prätiggan talking, I can tell you a good deal. My mother and he both came from Domleschg."
"How can you talk like that, Deta?" replied Barbara in an offended tone. "People do not gossip much in Prätiggan, and I always can keep things to myself, if I have to. You won't repent of having told me, I assure you!"
"All right, but keep your word!" said Deta warningly. Then she looked around to see that the child was not so close to them as to overhearwhat might be said; but the little girl was nowhere to be seen. While the two young women had talked at such a rate, they had not noticed her absence; quite a while must have elapsed since the little girl had given up following her companions. Deta, standing still, looked about her everywhere, but no one was on the path, which--except for a few curves--was visible as far down as the village.
"There she is! Can't you see her there?" exclaimed Barbara, pointing to a spot a good distance from the path. "She is climbing up with the goatherd Peter and his goats. I wonder why he is so late to-day. I must say, it suits us well enough; he can look after the child while you tell me everything without being interrupted."
"It will be very easy for Peter to watch her," remarked Deta; "she is bright for her five years and keeps her eyes wide open. I have often noticed that and I am glad for her, for it will be useful with the uncle. He has nothing left in the whole wide world, but his cottage and two goats!" "Did he once have more?" asked Barbara.
"I should say so. He was heir to a large farm in Domleschg. But setting up to play the fine gentleman, he soon lost everything with drink and play. His parents died with grief and he himself disappeared from these parts. After many years he came back with a half-grown boy, his son, Tobias, that was his name, became a carpenter and turned out to be a quiet, steady fellow. Many strange rumors went round about the uncle and I think that was why he left Domleschg for Dörfli. We acknowledged relationship, my mother's grandmother being a cousin of his. We called him uncle, and because we are related on my father's side to nearly all the people in the hamlet they too all called him uncle. He was named 'Alm-Uncle' when he moved up to the Alm."
"But what happened to Tobias?" asked Barbara eagerly.
"Just wait. How can I tell you everything at once?" exclaimed Deta."Tobias was an apprentice in Mels, and when he was made master, hecame home to the village and married my sister Adelheid. They always had been fond of each other and they lived very happily as man and wife. But their joy was short. Two years afterwards, when Tobias was helping to build a house, a beam fell on him and killed him. Adelheid was thrown into a violent fever with grief and fright, and never recovered from it. She had never been strong and had often suffered from queer spells, when we did not know whether she was awake or asleep. Only a few weeks after Tobias's death they buried poor Adelheid.
"People said that heaven had punished the uncle for his misdeeds.After the death of his son he never spoke to a living soul. Suddenlyhe moved up to the Alp, to live there at enmity with God and man.
"My mother and I took Adelheid's little year-old baby, Heidi, to live with us. When I went to Ragatz I took her with me; but in the spring the family whose work I had done last year came from Frankfurt and resolved to take me to their town-house. I am very glad to get such a good position."
"And now you want to hand over the child to this terrible old man. I really wonder how you can do it, Deta!" said Barbara with reproach in her voice.
"It seems to me I have really done enough for the child. I do not know where else to take her, as she is too young to come with me to Frankfurt. By the way, Barbara, where are you going? We are half-way up the Alm already."
Deta shook hands with her companion and stood still while Barbara approached the tiny, dark-brown mountain hut, which lay in a hollow af ew steps away from the path.
Situated half-way up the Alm, the cottage was luckily protected from the mighty winds. Had it been exposed to the tempests, it would have been a doubtful habitation in the state of decay it was in. Even as it was, the doors and windows rattled and the old rafters shook when the south wind swept the mountain side. If the hut had stood on the Almtop, the wind would have blown it down the valley without much ado when the storm season came.
Here lived Peter the goatherd, a boy eleven years old, who daily fetched the goats from the village and drove them up the mountain tothe short and luscious grasses of the pastures. Peter raced down inthe evening with the light-footed little goats. When he whistled sharply through his fingers, every owner would come and get his or her goat. These owners were mostly small boys and girls and, as the goats were friendly, they did not fear them. That was the only time Peter spent with other children, the rest of the day the animals were his sole companions. At home lived his mother and an old blind grandmother, but he only spent enough time in the hut to swallow his bread and milk for breakfast and the same repast for supper. After that he sought his bed to sleep. He always left early in the morningand at night he came home late, so that he could be with his friends as long as possible. His father had met with an accident some years ago; he also had been called Peter the goatherd. His mother, whose name was Brigida, was called "Goatherd Peter's wife" and his blind grandmother was called by young and old from many miles about just"grandmother."

Talking Books: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Chapter 2

Chapter 2. The Council with the Munchkins.

She was awakened by a shock, so sudden and severe that if Dorothy had not been lying on the soft bed she might have been hurt. As it was, the jar made her catch her breath and wonder what had happened; and Toto put his cold little nose into her face and whined dismally. Dorothy sat up and noticed that the house was not moving; nor was it dark,for the bright sunshine came in at the window, flooding the little room.She sprang from her bed and with Toto at her heels ran and opened the door.
The little girl gave a cry of amazement and looked about her, her eyes growing bigger and bigger at the wonderful sights she saw.
The cyclone had set the house down very gently for a cyclone in the midst of a country of marvelous beauty.

There were lovely patches of greensward all about, with stately trees bearing rich and luscious fruits. Banks of gorgeous flowers were on every hand, and birds with rare and brilliant plumage sang and fluttered in the trees and bushes. A little way off was a small brook, rushing and sparkling along between green banks, and murmuring in a voice very grateful to a little girl who had lived so long on the dry, gray prairies.
While she stood looking eagerly at the strange and beautiful sights, she noticed coming toward her a group of the queerest people she had ever seen. They were not as big as the grownfolk she had always been used to; but neither were they very small. In fact, they seemed about as tall as Dorothy, who was a well-grown child for her age, although they were, so far as looks go, many years older.
Three were men and one a woman, and all were oddly dressed.They wore round hats that rose to a small point a foot above their heads, with little bells around the brims that tinkled sweetly as they moved. The hats of the men were blue; the little woman's hat was white, and she wore a white gown that hung in pleats from her shoulders. Over it were sprinkled little stars that glistened in the sun like diamonds. The men were dressed in blue, of the same shade as their hats, and wore well-polished boots with a deep roll of blue at the tops. The men, Dorothy thought, were about as old as Uncle Henry, for two of them had beards. But the little woman was doubtless much older. Her face was covered with wrinkles, her hair was nearly white, and she walked rather stiffly.
When these people drew near the house where Dorothy was standing in the doorway, they paused and whispered among themselves,as if afraid to come farther. But the little old woman walked up to Dorothy, made a low bow and said, in a sweet voice:
"You are welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the Munchkins. We are so grateful to you for having killed the Wicked Witch of the East, and for setting our people free from bondage."
Dorothy listened to this speech with wonder. What could the little woman possibly mean by calling her a sorceress, and sayingshe had killed the Wicked Witch of the East? Dorothy was an innocent, harmless little girl, who had been carried by a cyclone many miles from home; and she had never killed anything in all her life.
But the little woman evidently expected her to answer; so Dorothy said,with hesitation, "You are very kind, but there must be some mistake.I have not killed anything."
"Your house did, anyway," replied the little old woman, with a laugh, "and that is the same thing. See!" she continued, pointing to the corner of the house. "There are her two feet, still sticking out from under a block of wood."
Dorothy looked, and gave a little cry of fright. There, indeed, just under the corner of the great beam the house rested on, two feet were sticking out, shod in silver shoes with pointed toes.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands togetherin dismay. "The house must have fallen on her. Whatever shall we do?"
"There is nothing to be done," said the little woman calmly.
"But who was she?" asked Dorothy.
"She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said," answered the little woman. "She has held all the Munchkins in bondage for many years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all set free, and are grateful to you for the favor."
"Who are the Munchkins?" inquired Dorothy.
"They are the people who live in this land of the East where the Wicked Witch ruled."
"Are you a Munchkin?" asked Dorothy.
"No, but I am their friend, although I live in the land of theNorth. When they saw the Witch of the East was dead the Munchkins sent a swift messenger to me, and I came at once. I am the Witch of the North."
"Oh, gracious!" cried Dorothy. "Are you a real witch?"
"Yes, indeed," answered the little woman. "But I am a good witch, and the people love me. I am not as powerful as the Wicked Witch was who ruled here, or I should have set the people free myself."
"But I thought all witches were wicked," said the girl, who was half frightened at facing a real witch. "Oh, no, that is agreat mistake. There were only four witches in all the Land of Oz, and two of them, those who live in the North and the South,are good witches. I know this is true, for I am one of them myself, and cannot be mistaken. Those who dwelt in the East and the West were, indeed, wicked witches; but now that you have killed one of them, there is but one Wicked Witch in all the Land of Oz--the one who lives in the West."
"But," said Dorothy, after a moment's thought, "Aunt Em has told me that the witches were all dead--years and years ago."
"Who is Aunt Em?" inquired the little old woman.
"She is my aunt who lives in Kansas, where I came from."
The Witch of the North seemed to think for a time, with her head bowed and her eyes upon the ground. Then she looked up and said, "I do not know where Kansas is, for I have never heard that country mentioned before. But tell me, is it a civilized country?"
"Oh, yes," replied Dorothy.
"Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries I believe there are no witches left, nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians. But, you see, the Land of Oz has never been civilized, for we are cut off from all the rest of the world. Therefore we still have witches and wizards amongst us."
"Who are the wizards?" asked Dorothy.
"Oz himself is the Great Wizard," answered the Witch, sinking her voice to a whisper. "He is more powerful than all the rest of us together. He lives in the City of Emeralds."
Dorothy was going to ask another question, but just then theMunchkins, who had been standing silently by, gave a loud shout and pointed to the corner of the house where the Wicked Witch had been lying.
"What is it?" asked the little old woman, and looked, and began to laugh. The feet of the dead Witch had disappeared entirely, and nothing was left but the silver shoes.
"She was so old," explained the Witch of the North, "that she dried up quickly in the sun. That is the end of her. But the silver shoes are yours, and you shall have them to wear." She reached down and picked up the shoes, and after shaking the dust out of them handed them to Dorothy.
"The Witch of the East was proud of those silver shoes," said one of the Munchkins, "and there is some charm connected with them; but what it is we never knew."
Dorothy carried the shoes into the house and placed them on the table. Then she came out again to the Munchkins and said:
"I am anxious to get back to my aunt and uncle, for I am sure they will worry about me. Can you help me find my way?"
The Munchkins and the Witch first looked at one another, and then at Dorothy, and then shook their heads.
"At the East, not far from here," said one, "there is a great desert, and none could live to cross it."
"It is the same at the South," said another, "for I have been there and seen it. The South is the country of the Quadlings."
"I am told," said the third man, "that it is the same at the West. And that country, where the Winkies live, is ruled by the Wicked Witch of the West, who would make you her slave if you passed her way."
"The North is my home," said the old lady, "and at its edge is the same great desert that surrounds this Land of Oz. I'm afraid, my dear, you will have to live with us."
Dorothy began to sob at this, for she felt lonely among all these strange people. Her tears seemed to grieve the kind-hearted Munchkins, for they immediately took out their handkerchiefs and began to weep also. As for the little old woman, she took off her cap and balanced the point on the end of her nose, while she counted "One, two, three" in a solemn voice. At once the cap changed to a slate, on which was written in big, white chalk marks:
"LET DOROTHY GO TO THE CITY OF EMERALDS"
The little old woman took the slate from her nose, and having read the words on it, asked, "Is your name Dorothy, my dear?"
"Yes," answered the child, looking up and drying her tears.
"Then you must go to the City of Emeralds. Perhaps Oz will help you."
"Where is this city?" asked Dorothy.
"It is exactly in the center of the country, and is ruled by Oz, the Great Wizard I told you of."
"Is he a good man?" inquired the girl anxiously.
"He is a good Wizard. Whether he is a man or not I cannot tell, for I have never seen him."
"How can I get there?" asked Dorothy.
"You must walk. It is a long journey, through a country that is sometimes pleasant and sometimes dark and terrible. However, I will use all the magic arts I know of to keep you from harm."
"Won't you go with me?" pleaded the girl, who had begun to look upon the little old woman as her only friend.
"No, I cannot do that," she replied, "but I will give you my kiss, and no one will dare injure a person who has been kissed by the Witch of the North."
She came close to Dorothy and kissed her gently on the forehead. Where her lips touched the girl they left a round, shining mark, as Dorothy found out soon after.
"The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick,"said the Witch, "so you cannot miss it. When you get to Oz do not be afraid of him, but tell your story and ask him to help you.Good-bye, my dear."
The three Munchkins bowed low to her and wished her a pleasant journey, after which they walked away through the trees. The Witch gave Dorothy a friendly little nod, whirled around on her left heel three times, and straightway disappeared, much to the surprise of little Toto, who barked after her loudly enough when she had gone, because he had been afraid even to growl while she stood by.
But Dorothy, knowing her to be a witch, had expected her to disappear in just that way, and was not surprised in the least.