cked.

"What do you s'pose he's done?" she asked.

"I fear he has picked a six-leaved clover," answered the Shaggy Man,
sadly. "I did not see him do it, and I warned him that to do so was
against the Law; but perhaps that is what he did, nevertheless."

"I'm sorry 'bout that," said Dorothy gravely, "for now there will be no
one to help his poor uncle and Margolotte--'cept this Patchwork Girl,
the Woozy and the Glass Cat."

"Don't mention it," said Scraps. "That's no affair of mine. Margolotte
and Unc Nunkie are perfect strangers to me, for the moment I came to
life they came to marble."

"I see," remarked Dorothy with a sigh of regret; "the woman forgot to
give you a heart."

"I'm glad she did," retorted the Patchwork Girl. "A heart must be a
great annoyance to one. It makes a person feel sad or sorry or devoted
or sympathetic--all of which sensations interfere with one's happiness."

"I have a heart," murmured the Glass Cat. "It's made of a ruby; but I
don't imagine I shall let it bother me about helping Unc Nunkie and
Margolotte."

"That's a pretty hard heart of yours," said Dorothy. "And the Woozy, of
course--"

"Why, as for me," observed the Woozy, who was reclining on the floor
with his legs doubled under him, so that he looked much like a square
box, "I have never seen those unfortunate people you are speaking of,
and yet I am sorry for them, having at times been unfortunate myself.
When I was shut up in that forest I longed for some one to help me, and
by and by Ojo came and did help me. So I'm willing to help his uncle.
I'm only a stupid beast, Dorothy, but I can't help that, and if you'll
tell me what to do to help Ojo and his uncle, I'll gladly do it."

Dorothy walked over and patted the Woozy on his square head.

"You're not pretty," she said, "but I like you. What are you able to do;
anything 'special?"

"I can make my eyes flash fire--real fire--when I'm angry. When anyone
says: 'Krizzle-Kroo' to me I get angry, and then my eyes flash fire."

"I don't see as fireworks could help Ojo's uncle," remarked Dorothy.
"Can you do anything else?"

"I--I thought I had a very terrifying growl," said the Woozy, with
hesitation; "but perhaps I was mistaken."

"Yes," said the Shaggy Man, "you were certainly wrong about that." Then
he turned to Dorothy and added: "What will become of the Munchkin boy?"

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head thoughtfully. "Ozma will see
him 'bout it, of course, and