Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  “Thank you. Now this,” he continued, rising and handing her the book with a bow, “is my revenge for your father’s treatment of me. Perhaps he’ll be sorry he didn’t buy the ‘Complete Works of Peter Smith.’ Good-by, my dear.”

  He walked to the door, gave her another bow, and left the room, and Jane Gladys could see that he was laughing to himself as if very much amused.

  When the door had closed behind the queer little man the child sat down in the window again and glanced at the book. It had a red and yellow cover and the word “Thingamajigs” was across the front in big letters.

  Then she opened it, curiously, and saw her name written in black letters upon the first white leaf.

  “He was a funny little man,” she said to herself, thoughtfully.

  She turned the next leaf, and saw a big picture of a clown, dressed in green and red and yellow, and having a very white face with three-cornered spots of red on each cheek and over the eyes. While she looked at this the book trembled in her hands, the leaf crackled and creaked and suddenly the clown jumped out of it and stood upon the floor beside her, becoming instantly as big as any ordinary clown.

  After stretching his arms and legs and yawning in a rather impolite manner, he gave a silly chuckle and said:

  “This is better! You don’t know how cramped one gets, standing so long upon a page of flat paper.”

  Perhaps you can imagine how startled Jane Gladys was, and how she stared at the clown who had just leaped out of the book.

  “You didn’t expect anything of this sort, did you?” he asked, leering at her in clown fashion. Then he turned around to take a look at the room and Jane Gladys laughed in spite of her astonishment.

  “What amuses you?” demanded the clown.

  “Why, the back of you is all white!” cried the girl. “You’re only a clown in front of you.”

  “Quite likely,” he returned, in an annoyed tone. “The artist made a front view of me. He wasn’t expected to make the back of me, for that was against the page of the book.”

  “But it makes you look so funny!” said Jane Gladys, laughing until her eyes were moist with tears.

  The clown looked sulky and sat down upon a chair so she couldn’t see his back.

  “I’m not the only thing in the book,” he remarked, crossly.

  This reminded her to turn another page, and she had scarcely noted that it contained the picture of a monkey when the animal sprang from the book with a great crumpling of paper and landed upon the window seat beside her.

  “He-he-he-he-he!” chattered the creature, springing to the girl’s shoulder and then to the center table. “This is great fun! Now I can be a real monkey instead of a picture of one.”

  “Real monkeys can’t talk,” said Jane Gladys, reprovingly.

  “How do you know? Have you ever been one yourself?” inquired the animal; and then he laughed loudly, and the clown laughed, too, as if he enjoyed the remark.

  The girl was quite bewildered by this time. She thoughtlessly turned another leaf, and before she had time to look twice a gray donkey leaped from the book and stumbled from the window seat to the floor with a great clatter.

  “You’re clumsy enough, I’m sure!” said the child, indignantly, for the beast had nearly upset her.

  “Clumsy! And why not?” demanded the donkey, with angry voice. “If the fool artist had drawn you out of perspective, as he did me, I guess you’d be clumsy yourself.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” asked Jane Gladys.

  “My front and rear legs on the left side are nearly six inches too short, that’s what’s the matter! If that artist didn’t know how to draw properly why did he try to make a donkey at all?”

  “I don’t know,” replied the child, seeing an answer was expected.

  “I can hardly stand up,” grumbled the donkey; “and the least little thing will topple me over.”

  “Don’t mind that,” said the monkey, making a spring at the chandelier and swinging from it by his tail until Jane Gladys feared he would knock all the globes off; “the same artist has made my ears as big as that clown’s and everyone knows a monkey hasn’t any ears to speak of — much less to draw.”

  “He should be prosecuted,” remarked the clown, gloomily. “I haven’t any back.”

  Jane Gladys looked from one to the other with a puzzled expression upon her sweet face, and turned another page of the book.

  Swift as a flash there sprang over her shoulder a tawney, spotted leopard, which landed upon the back of a big leather armchair and turned upon the others with a fierce movement.

  The monkey climbed to the top of the chandelier and chattered with fright. The donkey tried to run and straightway tipped over on his left side. The clown grew paler than ever, but he sat still in his chair and gave a low whistle of surprise.

  The leopard crouched upon the back of the chair, lashed his tail from side to side and glared at all of them, by turns, including Jane Gladys.

  “Which of us are you going to attack first?” asked the donkey, trying hard to get upon his feet again.

  “I can’t attack any of you,” snarled the leopard. “The artist made my mouth shut, so I haven’t any teeth; and he forgot to make my claws. But I’m a frightful looking creature, nevertheless; am I not?”

  “Oh, yes;” said the clown, indifferently. “I suppose you’re frightful looking enough. But if you have no teeth nor claws we don’t mind your looks at all.”

  This so annoyed the leopard that he growled horribly, and the monkey laughed at him.

  Just then the book slipped from the girl’s lap, and as she made a movement to catch it one of the pages near the back opened wide. She caught a glimpse of a fierce grizzly bear looking at her from the page, and quickly threw the book from her. It fell with a crash in the middle of the room, but beside it stood the great grizzly, who had wrenched himself from the page before the book closed.

  “Now,” cried the leopard from his perch, “you’d better look out for yourselves! You can’t laugh at him as you did at me. The bear has both claws and teeth.”

  “Indeed I have,” said the bear, in a low, deep, growling voice. “And I know how to use them, too. If you read in that book you’ll find I’m described as a horrible, cruel and remorseless grizzly, whose only business in life is to eat up little girls — shoes, dresses, ribbons and all! And then, the author says, I smack my lips and glory in my wickedness.”

  “That’s awful!” said the donkey, sitting upon his haunches and shaking his head sadly. “What do you suppose possessed the author to make you so hungry for girls? Do you eat animals, also?”

  “The author does not mention my eating anything but little girls,” replied the bear.

  “Very good,” remarked the clown, drawing a long breath of relief. “you may begin eating Jane Gladys as soon as you wish. She laughed because I had no back.”

  “And she laughed because my legs are out of perspective,” brayed the donkey.

  “But you also deserve to be eaten,” screamed the leopard from the back of the leather chair; “for you laughed and poked fun at me because I had no claws nor teeth! Don’t you suppose Mr. Grizzly, you could manage to eat a clown, a donkey and a monkey after you finish the girl?”

  “Perhaps so, and a leopard into the bargain,” growled the bear. “It will depend on how hungry I am. But I must begin on the little girl first, because the author says I prefer girls to anything.”

  Jane Gladys was much frightened on hearing this conversation, and she began to realize what the man meant when he said he gave her the book to be revenged. Surely papa would be sorry he hadn’t bought the “Complete Works of Peter Smith” when he came home and found his little girl eaten up by a grizzly bear — shoes, dress, ribbons and all!

  The bear stood up and balanced himself on his rear legs.

  “This is the way I look in the book,” he said. “Now watch me eat the little girl.”

  He advanced slowly toward Jane Gladys, and the monkey, t
he leopard, the donkey and the clown all stood around in a circle and watched the bear with much interest.

  But before the grizzly reached her the child had a sudden thought, and cried out:

  “Stop! You mustn’t eat me. It would be wrong.”

  “Why?” asked the bear, in surprise.

  “Because I own you. You’re my private property,” she answered.

  “I don’t see how you make that out,” said the bear, in a disappointed tone.

  “Why, the book was given to me; my name’s on the front leaf. And you belong, by rights, in the book. So you mustn’t dare to eat your owner!”

  The Grizzly hesitated.

  “Can any of you read?” he asked.

  “I can,” said the clown.

  “Then see if she speaks the truth. Is her name really in the book?”

  The clown picked it up and looked at the name.

  “It is,” said he. “‘Jane Gladys Brown;’ and written quite plainly in big letters.”

  The bear sighed.

  “Then, of course, I can’t eat her,” he decided. “That author is as disappointing as most authors are.”

  “But he’s not as bad as the artist,” exclaimed the donkey, who was still trying to stand up straight.

  “The fault lies with yourselves,” said Jane Gladys, severely. “Why didn’t you stay in the book, where you were put?”

  The animals looked at each other in a foolish way, and the clown blushed under his white paint.

  “Really — “ began the bear, and then he stopped short.

  The door bell rang loudly.

  “It’s mamma!” cried Jane Gladys, springing to her feet. “She’s come home at last. Now, you stupid creatures — “

  But she was interrupted by them all making a rush for the book. There was a swish and a whirr and a rustling of leaves, and an instant later the book lay upon the floor looking just like any other book, while Jane Gladys’ strange companions had all disappeared.

  This story should teach us to think quickly and clearly upon all occasions; for had Jane Gladys not remembered that she owned the bear he probably would have eaten her before the bell rang.

  THE ENCHANTED TYPES

  One time a knook became tired of his beautiful life and longed for something new to do. The knooks have more wonderful powers than any other immortal folk — except, perhaps, the fairies and ryls. So one would suppose that a knook who might gain anything he desired by a simple wish could not be otherwise than happy and contented. But such was not the case with Popopo, the knook we are speaking of. He had lived thousands of years, and had enjoyed all the wonders he could think of. Yet life had become as tedious to him now as it might be to one who was unable to gratify a single wish.

  Finally, by chance, Popopo thought of the earth people who dwell in cities, and so he resolved to visit them and see how they lived. This would surely be fine amusement, and serve to pass away many wearisome hours.

  Therefore one morning, after a breakfast so dainty that you could scarcely imagine it, Popopo set out for the earth and at once was in the midst of a big city.

  His own dwelling was so quiet and peaceful that the roaring noise of the town startled him. His nerves were so shocked that before he had looked around three minutes he decided to give up the adventure, and instantly returned home.

  This satisfied for a time his desire to visit the earth cities, but soon the monotony of his existence again made him restless and gave him another thought. At night the people slept and the cities would be quiet. He would visit them at night.

  So at the proper time Popopo transported himself in a jiffy to a great city, where he began wandering about the streets. Everyone was in bed. No wagons rattled along the pavements; no throngs of busy men shouted and halloaed. Even the policemen slumbered slyly and there happened to be no prowling thieves abroad.

  His nerves being soothed by the stillness, Popopo began to enjoy himself. He entered many of the houses and examined their rooms with much curiosity. Locks and bolts made no difference to a knook, and he saw as well in darkness as in daylight.

  After a time he strolled into the business portion of the city. Stores are unknown among the immortals, who have no need of money or of barter and exchange; so Popopo was greatly interested by the novel sight of so many collections of goods and merchandise.

  During his wanderings he entered a millinery shop, and was surprised to see within a large glass case a great number of women’s hats, each bearing in one position or another a stuffed bird. Indeed, some of the most elaborate hats had two or three birds upon them.

  Now knooks are the especial guardians of birds, and love them dearly. To see so many of his little friends shut up in a glass case annoyed and grieved Popopo, who had no idea they had purposely been placed upon the hats by the milliner. So he slid back one of the doors of the case, gave the little chirruping whistle of the knooks that all birds know well, and called:

  “Come, friends; the door is open — fly out!”

  Popopo did not know the birds were stuffed; but, stuffed or not, every bird is bound to obey a knook’s whistle and a knook’s call. So they left the hats, flew out of the case and began fluttering about the room.

  “Poor dears!” said the kind-hearted knook, “you long to be in the fields and forests again.”

  Then he opened the outer door for them and cried: “Off with you! Fly away, my beauties, and be happy again.”

  The astonished birds at once obeyed, and when they had soared away into the night air the knook closed the door and continued his wandering through the streets.

  By dawn he saw many interesting sights, but day broke before he had finished the city, and he resolved to come the next evening a few hours earlier.

  As soon as it was dark the following day he came again to the city and on passing the millinery shop noticed a light within. Entering he found two women, one of whom leaned her head upon the table and sobbed bitterly, while the other strove to comfort her.

  Of course Popopo was invisible to mortal eyes, so he stood by and listened to their conversation.

  “Cheer up, sister,” said one. “Even though your pretty birds have all been stolen the hats themselves remain.”

  “Alas!” cried the other, who was the milliner, “no one will buy my hats partly trimmed, for the fashion is to wear birds upon them. And if I cannot sell my goods I shall be utterly ruined.”

  Then she renewed her sobbing and the knook stole away, feeling a little ashamed to realized that in his love for the birds he had unconsciously wronged one of the earth people and made her unhappy.

  This thought brought him back to the millinery shop later in the night, when the two women had gone home. He wanted, in some way, to replace the birds upon the hats, that the poor woman might be happy again. So he searched until he came upon a nearby cellar full of little gray mice, who lived quite undisturbed and gained a livelihood by gnawing through the walls into neighboring houses and stealing food from the pantries.

  “Here are just the creatures,” thought Popopo, “to place upon the woman’s hats. Their fur is almost as soft as the plumage of the birds, and it strikes me the mice are remarkably pretty and graceful animals. Moreover, they now pass their lives in stealing, and were they obliged to remain always upon women’s hats their morals would be much improved.”

  So he exercised a charm that drew all the mice from the cellar and placed them upon the hats in the glass case, where they occupied the places the birds had vacated and looked very becoming — at least, in the eyes of the unworldly knook. To prevent their running about and leaving the hats Popopo rendered them motionless, and then he was so pleased with his work that he decided to remain in the shop and witness the delight of the milliner when she saw how daintily her hats were now trimmed.

  She came in the early morning, accompanied by her sister, and her face wore a sad and resigned expression. After sweeping and dusting the shop and drawing the blinds she opened the glass case and took out a hat.<
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  But when she saw a tiny gray mouse nestling among the ribbons and laces she gave a loud shriek, and, dropping the hat, sprang with one bound to the top of the table. The sister, knowing the shriek to be one of fear, leaped upon a chair and exclaimed:

  “What is it? Oh! what is it?”

  “A mouse!” gasped the milliner, trembling with terror.

  Popopo, seeing this commotion, now realized that mice are especially disagreeable to human beings, and that he had made a grave mistake in placing them upon the hats; so he gave a low whistle of command that was heard only by the mice.

  Instantly they all jumped from the hats, dashed out the open door of the glass case and scampered away to their cellar. But this action so frightened the milliner and her sister that after giving several loud screams they fell upon their backs on the floor and fainted away.

  Popopo was a kind-hearted knook, but on witnessing all this misery, caused by his own ignorance of the ways of humans, he straightway wished himself at home, and so left the poor women to recover as best they could.

  Yet he could not escape a sad feeling of responsibility, and after thinking upon the matter he decided that since he had caused the milliner’s unhappiness by freeing the birds, he could set the matter right by restoring them to the glass case. He loved the birds, and disliked to condemn them to slavery again; but that seemed the only way to end the trouble.

  So he set off to find the birds. They had flown a long distance, but it was nothing to Popopo to reach them in a second, and he discovered them sitting upon the branches of a big chestnut tree and singing gayly.

  When they saw the knook the birds cried:

  “Thank you, Popopo. Thank you for setting us free.”

  “Do not thank me,” returned the knook, “for I have come to send you back to the millinery shop.”

  “Why?” demanded a blue jay, angrily, while the others stopped their songs.

  “Because I find the woman considers you her property, and your loss has caused her much unhappiness,” answered Popopo.

  “But remember how unhappy we were in her glass case,” said a robin redbreast, gravely. “And as for being her property, you are a knook, and the natural guardian of all birds; so you know that Nature created us free. To be sure, wicked men shot and stuffed us, and sold us to the milliner; but the idea of our being her property is nonsense!”