broader, now, and more distinct.

They expected to reach some other house before it grew dark, but the
twilight was brief and Ojo soon began to fear they had made a mistake
in leaving the woodchopper.

"I can scarcely see the path," he said at last. "Can you see it,
Scraps?"

"No," replied the Patchwork Girl, who was holding fast to the boy's arm
so he could guide her.

"I can see," declared the Glass Cat. "My eyes are better than yours,
and my pink brains--"

"Never mind your pink brains, please," said Ojo hastily; "just run
ahead and show us the way. Wait a minute and I'll tie a string to you;
for then you can lead us."

He got a string from his pocket and tied it around the cat's neck, and
after that the creature guided them along the path. They had proceeded
in this way for about an hour when a twinkling blue light appeared
ahead of them.

"Good! there's a house at last," cried Ojo. "When we reach it the good
people will surely welcome us and give us a night's lodging." But
however far they walked the light seemed to get no nearer, so by and by
the cat stopped short, saying:

"I think the light is traveling, too, and we shall never be able to
catch up with it. But here is a house by the roadside, so why go
farther?"

"Where is the house, Bungle?"

"Just here beside us, Scraps."

Ojo was now able to see a small house near the pathway. It was dark and
silent, but the boy was tired and wanted to rest, so he went up to the
door and knocked.

"Who is there?" cried a voice from within.

"I am Ojo the Unlucky, and with me are Miss Scraps Patchwork and the
Glass Cat," he replied.

"What do you want?" asked the Voice.

"A place to sleep," said Ojo.

"Come in, then; but don't make any noise, and you must go directly to
bed," returned the Voice.

Ojo unlatched the door and entered. It was very dark inside and he
could see nothing at all. But the cat exclaimed: "Why, there's no one
here!"

"There must be," said the boy. "Some one spoke to me."

"I can see everything in the room," replied the cat, "and no one is
present but ourselves. But here are three beds, all made up, so we may
as well go to sleep."

"What is sleep?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.

"It's what you do when you go to bed," said Ojo.

"But why do you go to bed?" persisted the Patchwork Girl.

"Here, here! You are making altogether too much noise," cried the Voice
they had heard before. "Keep quiet, strangers, and go to bed."

The