When the boy opened his eyes
next morning he looked carefully
around the room. These small
Munchkin houses seldom had more
than one room in them. That in
which Ojo now found himself had
three beds, set all in a row
on one side of it. The Glass
Cat lay asleep on one bed, Ojo
was in the second, and the third
was neatly made up and smoothed
for the day. On the other side
of the room was a round table
on which breakfast was already
placed, smoking hot. Only one
chair was drawn up to the table,
where a place was set for one
person. No one seemed to be in
the room except
the boy and Bungle.
Ojo got up and put on his shoes.
Finding a toilet stand at the
head of his bed he washed his
face and hands and brushed his
hair. Then he went to the table
"I wonder if
this is my breakfast?"
"Eat it!" commanded
a Voice at his side, so near
jumped; But no person could he
He was hungry, and the breakfast
looked good; so he sat down and
ate all he wanted. Then, rising,
he took his hat and wakened the
"Come on, Bungle," said he; "we
He cast another
glance about the room and,
speaking to the
air, he said: "Whoever lives
here has been kind to me, and
I'm much obliged."
There was no answer, so he
took his basket and went out
the door, the cat following him.
In the middle of the path sat
the Patchwork Girl, playing with
pebbles she had picked up.
"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed
cheerfully. "I thought you were
never coming out. It has been
daylight a long time."
"What did you do all night?" asked
"Sat here and watched the stars
and the moon," she replied. "They're
interesting. I never saw them
before, you know."
"Of course not," said
"You were crazy to act so badly
and get thrown outdoors," remarked
Bungle, as they renewed their
"That's all right," said Scraps. "If
I hadn't been thrown out I wouldn't
have seen the stars, nor the
big gray wolf."
"What wolf?" inquired
"The one that
came to the door of the house
three times during
"I don't see why that should
be," said the boy, thoughtfully; "there
was plenty to eat in that house,
for I had a fine breakfast, and
I slept in a nice bed."
"Don't you feel tired?" asked
the Patchwork Girl, noticing
that the boy yawned.
I'm as tired as I was last
night; and yet I slept
"It's strange," replied Ojo. "I
had a good breakfast, and yet
I think I'll now eat some of
my crackers and cheese."
Scraps danced up and down the
path. Then she sang:
The wolf is at the door, There's
to eat but a bone without meat,
And a bill from the grocery store."
"What does that mean?" asked
"Don't ask me," replied Scraps. "I
say what comes into my head,
but of course I know nothing
of a grocery store or bones without
meat or very much else."
"No," said the cat; "she's
stark, staring, raving crazy,
and her brains can't be pink,
for they don't work properly."
"Bother the brains!" cried
Scraps. "Who cares for 'em, anyhow?
Have you noticed how beautiful
my patches are in this sunlight?"
Just then they heard a sound
as of footsteps pattering along
the path behind them and all
three turned to see what was
coming. To their astonishment
they beheld a small round table
running as fast as its four spindle
legs could carry it, and to the
top was screwed fast a phonograph
with a big gold horn.
"Hold on!" shouted the phonograph. "Wait
"Goodness me; it's that music
thing which the Crooked Magician
scattered the Powder of Life
over," said Ojo.
"So it is," returned Bungle,
in a grumpy tone of voice; and
then, as the phonograph overtook
them, the Glass Cat added sternly: "What
are you doing here, anyhow?"
"I've run away," said the music
thing. "After you left, old Dr.
Pipt and I had a dreadful quarrel
and he threatened to smash me
to pieces if I didn't keep quiet.
Of course I wouldn't do that,
because a talking-machine is
supposed to talk and make a noise--and
sometimes music. So I slipped
out of the house while the Magician
was stirring his four kettles
and I've been running after you
all night. Now that I've found
such pleasant company, I can
talk and play tunes all I want
Ojo was greatly annoyed by
this unwelcome addition to their
party. At first he did not know
what to say to the newcomer,
but a little thought decided
him not to make friends.
"We are traveling on important
business," he declared, "and
you'll excuse me if I say we
can't be bothered."
"How very impolite!" exclaimed
"I'm sorry; but it's true," said
the boy. "You'll have to go somewhere
"This is very unkind treatment,
I must say, whined the phonograph,
in an injured tone. "Everyone
seems to hate me, and yet I was
intended to amuse people."
"It isn't you we hate, especially," observed
the Glass Cat; "it's your dreadful
music. When I lived in the same
room with you I was much annoyed
by your squeaky horn. It growls
and grumbles and clicks and scratches
so it spoils the music, and your
machinery rumbles so that the
racket drowns every tune you
"That isn't my fault; it's
the fault of my records. I must
admit that I haven't a clear
record," answered the machine.
"Just the same, you'll have
to go away," said Ojo.
"Wait a minute," cried Scraps. "This
music thing interests me. I remember
to have heard music when I first
came to life, and I would like
to hear it again. What is your
name, my poor abused phonograph?"
"Victor Columbia Edison," it
"Well, I shall call you 'Vic'
for short," said the Patchwork
Girl. "Go ahead and play something."
"It'll drive you crazy," warned
now, according to your statement.
Loosen up and
reel out the music, Vic."
"The only record I have with
me," explained the phonograph, "is
one the Magician attached just
before we had our quarrel. It's
a highly classical composition."
"A what?" inquired
"It is classical
music, and is considered the
best and most
puzzling ever manufactured. You're
supposed to like it, whether
you do or not, and if you don't,
the proper thing is to look as
if you did. Understand?"
"Not in the least," said
At once the machine began to
play and in a few minutes Ojo
put his hands to his ears to
shut out the sounds and the cat
snarled and Scraps began to Jaugh.
"Cut it out, Vic," she said. "That's
But the phonograph continued
playing the dreary tune, so Ojo
seized the crank, jerked it free
and threw it into the road. However,
the moment the crank struck the
ground it hounded back to the
machine again and began winding
it up. And still the music played.
"Let's run!" cried
Scraps, and they all started
down the path as fast as they
could go. But the phonograph
was right behind them and could
run and play at the same time.
It called out, reproachfully:
matter? Don't you love classical
"No, Vic," said Scraps, halting. "We
will passical the classical and
preserve what joy we have left.
I haven't any nerves, thank goodness,
but your music makes my cotton
"Then turn over my record.
There's a rag-time tune on the
other side," said the machine.
"All right," said
Scraps, and turned over the
now began to play a jerky jumble
which proved so bewildering that
after a moment Scraps stuffed
her patchwork apron into the
gold horn and cried: "Stop--stop!
That's the other extreme. It's
Muffled as it was, the phonograph
"If you don't shut off that
music I'll smash your record," threatened
The music stopped,
at that, and the machine turned
from one to another and said
with great indignation: "What's
the matter now? Is it possible
you can't appreciate rag- time?"
"Scraps ought to, being rags
herself," said the cat; "but
I simply can't stand it; it makes
my whiskers curl."
"It is, indeed, dreadful!" exclaimed
Ojo, with a shudder.
"It's enough to drive a crazy
lady mad," murmured the Patchwork
Girl. "I'll tell you what, Vic," she
added as she smoothed out her
apron and put it on again, "for
some reason or other you've missed
your guess. You're not a concert;
you're a nuisance. "
"Music hath charms to soothe
the savage breast," asserted
the phonograph sadly.
not savages. I advise you to
go home and beg
the Magician's pardon."
"That's what we shall do, if
you stay here," Ojo declared.
"Run along, Vic, and bother
some one else," advised Scraps. "Find
some one who is real wicked,
and stay with him till he repents.
In that way you can do some good
in the world."
The music thing turned silently
away and trotted down a side
path, toward a distant Munchkin
"Is that the way we go?" asked
"No," said Ojo; "I
think we shall keep straight
this path is the widest and best.
When we come to some house we
will inquire the way to the Emerald