Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  They visited the nest of the baby goldfinches, and found the Widow Chaffinch still caring for the orphans in her motherly way. The little ones seemed to be as hungry as ever, but the widow assured the lark-children that all five had just been fed.

  “Did you ever hear of a tingle-berry?” asked Twinkle.

  “Yes; it seems to me I have heard of that berry,” was the reply. “If I remember rightly my grandmother once told me of the tingle-berries, and warned me never to eat one. But I am quite certain the things do not grow in our forest, for I have never seen one that I can recollect.”

  “Where do they grow, then?” enquired Chubbins.

  “I can’t say exactly where; but if they are not in the forest, they must grow in the open country.”

  The child-larks now returned to their own nest, and sat snuggled up in it during the evening, talking over the day’s experiences and the wonderful things they had seen in the fairy-like Paradise of the Birds. So much sight-seeing had made them tired, so when it grew dark they fell fast asleep, and did not waken until the sun was peeping over the edge of the trees.

  “Good gracious!” exclaimed the girl, “we shall be late at the meeting at the Judgment Tree. Let’s hurry, Chub.”

  They ate a hasty breakfast from the contents of their basket, and after flying to the brook for a drink and a dip in the cool water they hurried toward the Judgment Tree.

  There they found a vast assemblage of birds. They were so numerous, indeed, that Twinkle was surprised to find that so many of them inhabited the forest.

  But a still greater surprise was in store for her, for immediately she discovered sitting upon the biggest branch of the tree twenty-two bluejays, all in a row. They were large, splendidly plumaged birds, with keen eyes and sharp bills, and at their head was the children’s old friend, the policeman.

  “These are my cousins,” he said to the child-larks, proudly, “and I have brought them from another forest, where they live, to assist me. I am not afraid of the foolish rooks now, and in a moment we shall fly away to give them battle.”

  The forest birds were all in a flutter of delight at the prompt arrival of the powerful bluejays, and when the word of command was given they all left the tree and flew swiftly to meet the rooks.

  First came the ranks of the twenty-two bluejays, with the policeman at their head. Then followed many magpies and cuckoos, who were too clever to side with the naughty rooks when they saw the powerful birds the bluejay had summoned to his assistance. After these flew the smaller birds, of all descriptions, and they were so many and at the same time so angry that they were likely to prove stubborn foes in a fight.

  This vast army came upon the rooks in an open space in the forest. Without waiting for any words or explanations from the rebels, the soldierly bluejays fell upon their enemies instantly, fighting fiercely with bill and claw, while the other birds fluttered in the rear, awaiting their time to join in the affray.

  Policeman Bluejay singled out the rook which had stolen his helmet and club, and dashed upon him so furiously that the black rebel was amazed, and proved an easy victim to the other’s superior powers. He threw down the club and helmet at once; but the bluejay was not satisfied with that, and attacked the thief again and again, until the air was full of black feathers torn from the rook’s body.

  After all, the battle did not last long; for the rooks soon screamed for mercy, and found themselves badly plucked and torn by the time their assailants finally decided they had been punished enough.

  Like all blustering, evil-disposed people, when they found themselves conquered they whined and humbled themselves before the victors and declared they would never again rebel against Policeman Bluejay, the regularly appointed guardian of the Law of the Forest. And I am told that after this day the rooks, who are not rightly forest birds, betook themselves to the nearest villages and farm houses, and contented themselves with plaguing mankind, who could not revenge themselves as easily as the birds did.

  After the fight Policeman Bluejay thanked his cousins and sent them home again, and then the birds all surrounded the policeman and cheered him gratefully for his cleverness and bravery, so that he was the hero of the hour.

  Judge Bullfinch tried to make a fine speech, but the birds were too excited to listen to his words, and he soon found himself without an audience.

  Of course, Twinkle and Chubbins took no part in the fight, but they had hovered in the background to watch it, and were therefore as proud of their friend as any of the forest birds could be.

  CHAPTER XXI

  The Tingle-Berries

  When the excitement of the morning had subsided and the forest was quiet again, Policeman Bluejay came to the nest of the child-larks, wearing his official helmet and club. You may be sure that one of the first things Twinkle asked him was if he knew where tingle-berries grew.

  “Of course,” he replied, promptly. “They grow over at the north edge of the forest, in the open country. But you must never eat them, my dear friend, because they are very bad for birds.”

  “But the Royal Necromancer of the King Bird of Paradise says the tingle-berries will restore us to our proper forms,” explained the girl.

  “Oh; did he say that? Then he probably knows,” said the bluejay, “and I will help you to find the berries. We birds always avoid them, for they give us severe pains in our stomachs.”

  “That’s bad,” observed Chubbins, uneasily.

  “Well,” said Twinkle, “I’d be willing to have a pain or two, just to be myself again.”

  “So would I, if it comes to that,” agreed the boy. “But I’d rather have found a way to be myself without getting the pain.”

  “There is usually but one thing that will overcome an enchantment,” remarked the bluejay, seriously; “and if it is a tingle-berry that will destroy the charm which the old tuxix put upon you, then nothing else will answer the same purpose. The Royal Necromancer is very wise, and you may depend upon what he says. But it is late, at this season, for tingle-berries. They do not grow at all times of the year, and we may not be able to find any upon the bushes.”

  “Cannot we go at once and find out?” asked Twinkle, anxiously.

  “To be sure. It will grieve me to lose you, my little friends, but I want to do what will give you the most happiness. Come with me, please.”

  They flew away through the forest, and by and by came upon the open country to the north, leaving all the trees behind them.

  “Why, this is the place we entered the forest, that day we got ‘chanted!” cried Twinkle.

  “So it is,” said Chubbins. “I believe we could find our way home from here, Twink.”

  “But we can’t go home like we are,” replied the girl-lark. “What would our folks say, to find us with birds’ bodies?”

  “They’d yell and run,” declared the boy.

  “Then,” said she, “we must find the tingle-berries.”

  The bluejay flew with them to some bushes which he said were the kind the tingle-berries grew upon, but they were all bare and not a single berry could be found.

  “There must be more not far away,” said the policeman, encouragingly. “Let us look about us.”

  They found several clumps of the bushes, to be sure; but unfortunately no berries were now growing upon them, and at each failure the children grew more and more sad and despondent.

  “If we have to wait until the bushes bear again,” Twinkle remarked, “it will be nearly a year, and I’m sure we can’t live in the forest all winter.”

  “Why not?” asked the policeman.

  “The food in our basket would all be gone, and then we would starve to death,” was the reply. “We can’t eat bugs and worms, you know.”

  “I’d rather die!” declared Chubbins, mournfully.

  The bluejay became very thoughtful.

  “If we could find some of the tingle bushes growing near the shade of the forest,” he said at last, “there might still be some berries remaining on them. O
ut here in the bright sunshine the berries soon wither and drop off and disappear.”

  “Then let us look near the trees,” suggested Twinkle.

  They searched for a long time unsuccessfully. It was growing late, and they were almost in despair, when a sharp cry from Policeman Bluejay drew the child-larks to his side.

  “What is it?” enquired the girl, trembling with nervous excitement.

  “Why,” said the policeman, “here is a bush at last, and on it are exactly two ripe tingle-berries!”

  CHAPTER XXII

  The Transformation

  They looked earnestly at the bush, and saw that their friend spoke truly. Upon a high limb was one plump, red berry, looking much like a cranberry, while lower down grew another but smaller berry, which appeared to be partially withered.

  “Good!” the lark-children cried, joyfully; and the next moment Chubbins added: “You eat the big berry, Twink.”

  “Why?” she asked, hesitating.

  “It looks as if it had more stomach-ache in it,” he replied.

  “I’m not afraid of that,” said she. “But do you suppose the little berry will be enough for you? One side of it is withered, you see.”

  “That won’t matter,” returned the boy-lark. “The Royal Necromancer said to eat one berry. He didn’t say a little or a big one, you know, or whether it should be plump or withered.”

  “That is true,” said the girl-lark. “Shall I eat mine now?”

  “The sooner the better,” Chubbins replied.

  “Don’t forget me, little friend, when you are a human again,” said Policeman Bluejay, sadly.

  “I shall never forget you,” Twinkle answered, “nor any part of all your kindness to us. We shall be friends forever.”

  That seemed to please the handsome blue bird, and Twinkle was so eager that she could not wait to say more. She plucked the big, plump berry, put it in her mouth with her little claw, and ate it as soon as possible.

  In a moment she said: “Ouch! Oo-oo-oo!” But it did not hurt so badly, after all. Her form quickly changed and grew larger; and while Chubbins and Policeman Bluejay watched her anxiously she became a girl again, and the bird’s body with its soft gray feathers completely disappeared.

  As she felt herself changing she called: “Good-bye!” to the bluejay; but even then he could hardly understand her words.

  “Good-bye!” he answered, and to Twinkle’s ears it sounded like “Chir-r-rip-chee-wee!”

  “How did it feel?” asked Chubbins; but she looked at him queerly, as if his language was strange to her, and seemed to be half frightened.

  “Guess I’ll have to eat my berry,” he said, with a laugh, and proceeded to pluck and eat it, as Twinkle had done. He yelled once or twice at the cramp the fruit gave him, but as soon as the pain ceased he began to grow and change in the same way his little comrade had.

  But not entirely. For although he got his human body and legs back again, all in their natural size, his wings remained as they were, and it startled him to find that the magic power had passed and he was still partly a bird.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Twinkle.

  “Is anything wrong?” enquired the bluejay.

  The boy understood them both, although they could not now understand each other. He said to Twinkle:

  “I guess the berry wasn’t quite big enough.” Then he repeated the same thing in the bird language to Policeman Bluejay, and it sounded to Twinkle like:

  “Pir-r-r-r — eep — cheep — tweet!”

  “What in the world can you do?” asked the girl, quite distressed. “It will be just dreadful if you have to stay like that.”

  The tears came to Chubbins’ eyes. He tried to restrain them, but could not. He flapped his little wings dolefully and said:

  “I wish I was either one thing or the other! I’d rather be a child-lark again, and nest in a tree, than to go home to the folks in this way.”

  Policeman Bluejay had seen his dilemma at the first, and his sharp eyes had been roving over all the bushes that were within the range of his vision. Suddenly he uttered a chirp of delight and dashed away, speedily returning with another tingle-berry in his bill.

  “It’s the very last one there is!” said he to Chubbins.

  “But it is all that I want,” cried the boy, brightening at once; and then, regardless of any pain, he ate the berry as greedily as if he was fond of a stomache-ache.

  The second berry had a good effect in one way, for Chubbins’ wings quickly became arms, and he was now as perfectly formed as he had been before he met with the cruel tuxix. But he gave a groan, every once in a while, and Twinkle suspected that two berries were twice as powerful as one, and made a pain that lasted twice as long.

  As the boy and girl looked around they were astonished to find their basket standing on the ground beside them. On a limb of the first tree of the forest sat silently regarding them a big blue bird that they knew must be Policeman Bluejay, although somehow or other he had lost his glossy black helmet and the club he had carried underneath his wing.

  “It’s almost dark,” said Twinkle, yawning. “Let’s go home, Chub.”

  “All right.”

  He picked up the basket, and for a few minutes they walked along in silence.

  Then the boy asked:

  “Don’t your legs feel heavy, Twink?”

  “Yes,” said she; “do yours?”

  “Awful,” said he.

  The Pseudonym Works – Non-Fantasy

  Peekskill Military Academy, where Baum went to school for two years

  AUNT JANE’S NIECES

  Aunt Jane’s Nieces was the first book in what proved to be a very popular series written by Baum under the pseudonym, Edith Van Dyne. Published by Reilly & Britton in 1906, the novel for adolescent girls featured artwork by Emile A. Nelson, a prolific illustrator of the period, who also illustrated Baum’s Boy Fortune Hunters series. The publisher’s contract called for Baum to create a series in the style of Louisa May Alcott’s, Little Women. The title character, Jane Merrick, is a rich, elderly woman with no children of her own, and she wants to decide who shall inherit her estate after her death. She calls for a visit from three of her teenage nieces, each cousin very different in personality from the other. Their contrasting temperaments, their differing reactions to Aunt Jane, coupled with an intriguing plot surrounding valid and invalid wills and a visit from a long lost uncle, provide tension and excitement.

  A first edition copy of ‘Aunt Jane’s Nieces’

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I.

  CHAPTER II.

  CHAPTER III.

  CHAPTER IV.

  CHAPTER V.

  CHAPTER VI.

  CHAPTER VII.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  CHAPTER IX.

  CHAPTER X.

  CHAPTER XI.

  CHAPTER XII.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  CHAPTER XIV.

  CHAPTER XV.

  CHAPTER XVI.

  CHAPTER XVII.

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  CHAPTER XIX.

  CHAPTER XX.

  CHAPTER XXI.

  CHAPTER XXII.

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  CHAPTER XXV

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  CHAPTER I.

  BETH RECEIVES AN INVITATION.

  Professor De Graf was sorting the mail at the breakfast table.

  “Here’s a letter for you, Beth,” said he, and tossed it across the cloth to where his daughter sat.

  The girl raised her eyebrows, expressing surprise. It was something unusual for her to receive a letter. She picked up the square envelope between a finger and thumb and carefully read the inscription, “Miss Elizabeth De Graf, Cloverton, Ohio.” Turning the envelope she found on the reverse flap a curious armorial emblem, with the word “Elmhurst.”

  Then she glanced at her father,
her eyes big and somewhat startled in expression. The Professor was deeply engrossed in a letter from Benjamin Lowenstein which declared that a certain note must be paid at maturity. His weak, watery blue eyes stared rather blankly from behind the gold-rimmed spectacles. His flat nostrils extended and compressed like those of a frightened horse; and the indecisive mouth was tremulous. At the best the Professor was not an imposing personage. He wore a dressing-gown of soiled quilted silk and linen not too immaculate; but his little sandy moustache and the goatee that decorated his receding chin were both carefully waxed into sharp points — an indication that he possessed at least one vanity. Three days in the week he taught vocal and instrumental music to the ambitious young ladies of Cloverton. The other three days he rode to Pelham’s Grove, ten miles away, and taught music to all who wished to acquire that desirable accomplishment. But the towns were small and the fees not large, so that Professor De Graf had much difficulty in securing an income sufficient for the needs of his family.

  The stout, sour-visaged lady who was half-hidden by her newspaper at the other end of the table was also a bread-winner, for she taught embroidery to the women of her acquaintance and made various articles of fancy-work that were sold at Biggar’s Emporium, the largest store in Cloverton. So, between them, the Professor and Mrs. DeGraf managed to defray ordinary expenses and keep Elizabeth at school; but there were one or two dreadful “notes” that were constantly hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles, threatening to ruin them at any moment their creditors proved obdurate.

  Finding her father and mother both occupied, the girl ventured to open her letter. It was written in a sharp, angular, feminine hand and read as follows:

  “My Dear Niece: It will please me to have you spend the months of July and August as my guest at Elmhurst. I am in miserable health, and wish to become better acquainted with you before I die. A check for necessary expenses is enclosed and I shall expect you to arrive promptly on the first of July.