"It will take a few minutes
for this powder to
do its work," remarked the Magician, sprinkling the body up and down with much
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
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,
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
"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 fired 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
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,
"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
"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,
"The Liquid of Petrifaction
has accidentally fallen upon
my dear wife and Unc Nunkie and
turned them into marble," he
"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:
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
"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
"Scraps?" repeated the girl. "Did
you call me 'Scraps'? Is that
"I--I believe my poor wife
had intended to name you 'Angeline,'" said
"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
"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
"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
"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
"Oh, no; I'll
get my Book of Recipes and
see what comes next."
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.
the light of day never penetrates.
The water must
be put in a gold bottle and brought
to me without any light ever
"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
Ojo looked grave at this.
"What is a Woozy, please?" he
"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
"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;
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
"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
"One who serves. A--a Sort
of slave," he explained.
"Very well," said the Patchwork
Girl, "I'm going to serve you
and your wife by helping Ojo
find the things you need. You
need a lot, you know, such as
are not easily found."
"It is true," sighed Dr. Pipt. "I
am well aware that Ojo has undertaken
a serious task."
Scraps laughed, and resuming
her dance she said:
"Here's a job
for a boy of brains: A drop
of oil from a
live man's veins; A six-leaved
clover; three nice hairs From
a Woozy's tail, the book declares
Are needed for the magic spell,
And water from a pitch-dark well.
The yellow wing of a butterfly
To find must Ojo also try, And
if he gets them without harm,
Doc Pipt will make the magic
charm; But if he doesn't get
'em, Unc Will always stand a
The Magician looked at her
"Poor Margolotte must have
given you some of the quality
of poesy, by mistake," he said. "And,
if that is true, I didn't make
a very good article when I prepared
it, or else you got an overdose
or an underdose. However, I believe
I shall let you go with Ojo,
for my poor wife will not need
your services until she is restored
to life. Also I think you may
be able to help the boy, for
your head seems to contain some
thoughts I did not expect to
find in it. But be very careful
of yourself, for you're a souvenir
of my dear Margolotte. Try not
to get ripped, or your stuffing
may fall out. One of your eyes
seems loose, and you may have
to sew it on tighter. If you
talk too much you'll wear out
your scarlet plush tongue, which
ought to have been hemmed on
the edges. And remember you belong
to me and must return here as
soon as your mission is accomplished."
"I'm going with Scraps and
Ojo," announced the Glass Cat.
"You can't," said
broken in no time, and you
couldn't be a bit of
use to the boy and the Patchwork
"I beg to differ with you," returned
the cat, in a haughty tone. "Three
heads are better than two, and
my pink brains are beautiful.
You can see em work."
"Well, go along," said the
Magician, irritably. "You're
only an annoyance, anyhow, and
I'm glad to get rid of you."
"Thank you for nothing, then," answered
the cat, stiffly.
Dr. Pipt took a small basket
from a cupboard and packed several
things in it. Then he handed
it to Ojo.
"Here is some food and a bundle
of charms," he said. "It is all
I can give you, but I am sure
you will find friends on your
journey who will assist you in
your search. Take care of the
Patchwork Girl and bring her
safely back, for she ought to
prove useful to my wife. As for
the Glass Cat-- properly named
Bungle--if she bothers you I
now give you my permission to
break her in two, for she is
not respectful and does not obey
me. I made a mistake in giving
her the pink brains, you see.
Then Ojo went to Unc Nunkie
and kissed the old man's marble
face very tenderly.
"I'm going to try to save you,
Unc," he said, just as if the
marble image could hear him;
and then he shook the crooked
hand of the Crooked Magician,
who was already busy hanging
the four kettles in the fireplace,
and picking up his basket left
The Patchwork Girl followed
him, and after them came the