, as you were before you became tin. He even
had a tin arm, and that reminded me of you the more.

"No wonder!" remarked the Scarecrow.

"But, listen, Nimmie Amee!" said the astonished Woot; "he really is
both of them, for he is made of their cast-off parts."

"Oh, you're quite wrong," declared Polychrome, laughing, for she was
greatly enjoying the confusion of the others. "The tin men are still
themselves, as they will tell you, and so Chopfyt must be someone else."

They looked at her bewildered, for the facts in the case were too
puzzling to be grasped at once.

"It is all the fault of old Ku-Klip," muttered the Tin Woodman. "He had
no right to use our castoff parts to make another man with."

"It seems he did it, however," said Nimmie Amee calmly, "and I married
him because he resembled you both. I won't say he is a husband to be
proud of, because he has a mixed nature and isn't always an agreeable
companion. There are times when I have to chide him gently, both with
my tongue and with my broomstick. But he is my husband, and I must make
the best of him."

"If you don't like him," suggested the Tin Woodman, "Captain Fyter and
I can chop him up with our axe and sword, and each take such parts of
the fellow as belong to him. Then we are willing for you to select one
of us as your husband."

"That is a good idea," approved Captain Fyter, drawing his sword.

"No," said Nimmie Amee; "I think I'll keep the husband I now have. He
is now trained to draw the water and carry in the wood and hoe the
cabbages and weed the flower-beds and dust the furniture and perform
many tasks of a like character. A new husband would have to be
scolded--and gently chided--until he learns my ways. So I think it will
be better to keep my Chopfyt, and I see no reason why you should object
to him. You two gentlemen threw him away when you became tin, because
you had no further use for him, so you cannot justly claim him now. I
advise you to go back to your own homes and forget me, as I have
forgotten you."

"Good advice!" laughed Polychrome, dancing.

"Are you happy?" asked the Tin Soldier.

"Of course I am," said Nimmie Amee; "I'm the mistress of all I
survey--the queen of my little domain."

"Wouldn't you like to be the Empress of the Winkies?" asked the Tin
Woodman.

"Mercy, no," she answered. "That would be a lot of bother. I don't care
for society, or pomp, or posing. All I ask is to be left alone and not
to be annoyed by v