Indeed, it would have been curtains for poor Jeanne-Marie had not Graham had a sudden inspiration which he wanted to tell her about right away. He felt certain that he had formulated a plan by which they would be able to save Telly from the Witch, and he had run into the milkweed fields to find her. He had seen the terrible wartfrogs capture her and had even overheard what they planned to do to her. "I can't let them do it!" he whispered angrily. "Why, this is the second time I've made a friend in Oz who has met with foul play!" He would have cried, had his sadness not been so highly overcompensated for by his anger. His first instinct was to run to her and try to fight for her freedom. But he was a wise enough boy to know full well that this would be folly. He was no more than one little boy against a whole farm's worth of strong and muscular laborers. If he were to pick a fight with this bunch, he would be sold alongside his friend. No, he would need another plan of rescue. But he had already come up with one such plan. Now he could give it a test-run. However, he knew that he could not hope to carry it out all by himself. No, he would have to have help. And Graham knew from whence that help must come. With a swallow of anxiety, he headed for the home of the ranchero.
MacDonald Lindsay was as amiable a fellow as the unicorn had said. This fact instantly put Graham's anxiety to rest. "Do come in, my friend," said the ranchero. "What can I do to make you happy?"
[Illustration]
"It's about Jeanne-Marie," said Graham.
"That poor little waif of a unicorn?" replied the troll-horse.
"That very one," said Graham. "Your workers have taken her prisoner, and they plan to sell her to a zoo or a circus or something like that."
The troll creature looked at Graham and frowned. Then he began to laugh. "Ha ha!" he said. "You take me for a complete and utter idiot! No, you cannot be telling me the truth. My boys are under orders to let the lovely little waif alone. They would not do such a cruel or vile thing to anyone, I assure you."
"But I was there, sir," pleaded Graham. "I saw it all with my own two eyes! They put Jeanne-Marie into a great big grain-bag and hid her on a cart that they carried along behind them. The big fat one said he was going to sell her to a zoo! I heard him say so! He said, 'Old Mickey-D will never know what became of his little charity-case!'" As he quoted the line, he did his best to imitate the wartfrog's voice. "Please, Mr. Lindsay, you just have to believe me! I'm telling you the truth!"
"Now, now," answered the troll voice, which was sounding less patient than before. "I know better. No one on my staff would ever do such a thing … And no one on my staff would ever … Wait a minute. Did you say 'Old Mickey-D?' My, my. Only Foreman Lambert ever called me by that annoying name. And no one but he would have the audacity to…." His heart pounded so loudly that Graham could hear it from across the room. Then the troll-horse let out a couple of loud exclamations. "Merciful Frances of Grand Rapids, Minnesota!" he bellowed. "Judy in the sky! What a fool I have been to overlook it! Lambert has been trying to hide it from me, but he has been showing signs of resentment against that unicorn! I should have seen this coming. But you have opened my eyes, my boy. I have strived—er, striven? Er, I have always made it my strivence in these fields to ensure that every visiting child and family successfully explores his own particular creative abilities. I had seen so many fine qualities of leadership in Foreman Lambert that I closed my eyes to his darker side. But I can no longer look the other way. It may not be kosher, but I am going to have to fight against my own right-hand man."
The ranchero started angrily for the door.
"Wait!" shouted Graham, taking on the role of the calm and collected boy with a plan.
"Wait for what?" asked Lindsay. "I'll wait for nothing until I see that lousy Lambert get his just rewards!"
"He will," spoke the boy. "Yes. But not that way!"
"What …"
"If you try to fight all of those thugs at once, you'll just be outnumbered. I have a better idea. I know of a way to save Jeanne-Marie without anyone getting hurt."
"Then spill it, my boy! What is this plan?"
Foreman Lambert took the rest of the day off. He carefully researched the best place to sell a captured unicorn. He planned to get enough wealth to buy the entire farm and spend the rest of his days sipping strawberry daiquiris and conversing with MacDonald Lindsay about the joys of being affluent. As he sat and pored over the pages ofThe Encyclopedia of Places Where Unicorns Can be Successfully Sold on the Black Market With No Questions Asked Except When the Salesman Happens to be a Mangaboo: Vol. 224, he heard a peculiar clattering noise outside. Fearing it might affect his own happiness in some way, Lambert ran outside to see what was the matter. The sight that met his eyes was hardly what he would have expected. There before him was a huge Ox tethered to a wagon. One wheel had fallen from the wagon, and the wagonmaster was jumping up and down, shouting angry expletives at the ox. "You filthy pile of oxtail soup!" shouted the young man. "You are as able to locate the proper roads as Dorothy was inThe Road to Oz! Now just look what your lack of brains has caused us! You dragged us off the road, and now we have another busted wheel to bother about! You are just a lousy old coot!"
"Now, now," said Lambert. "You needn't speak so unkindly to this fine animal. I'll be happy to take him off your hands if he's such a … a coot, I think you said?"
"Yeah!" begged the ox. "Let him have me! I can work on this big farm!"
"Not a cotton-picking chance!" blurted the human. "I need a work-horse to pull this wagon. If I had another animal, maybe a horse or a pony, I'd gladly unload your crummy old worthless hide in a heartbeat! But such beasts are sure to be expensive in these parts, especially to a stranger like me. And all I have are these forty-eight diamonds, a bag of square emeralds, and a couple of rubies to spare."
Lambert lit up and became more alert than he had ever been before. Standing straight up and trying to look as businesslike as a wartfrog can possibly look, he said, "That is the exact price I planned to ask for a very pretty unicorn that I have recently acquired by perfectly legitimate means."
"Are there any other kind?" asked the stranger with a sly wink.
"Of course not." He ran inside to the closet and grabbed the bag with Jeanne-Marie inside. Coming back to his customer, he handed it over and greedily grabbed the precious gemstones. "Thank you, oh thank you!" he squealed gleefully. "And can I get that ox, too?"
"You can get me, all right," said the ox. "But I'm not sure you want what comes with me." Stepping toward the wartfrog and ramming his face against one of Lambert's tough tusks (which, consequently, broke off and fell to the ground), he broke off what became obviously a papier maché mask. Beneath it, he was actually the owner of the whole ranch, MacDonald Lindsay.
"Oh oh…." gasped Lambert. "Er, hi, master. I knew it was you all along. That is why I went along with your silly little game. Had it been anyone but you, I'd not have left my work for a moment to play such a game. But no harm done, right? Here, take these little gemstones away. I don't really need them. All part of the game, though, you know. Well, I do have work to do now … Toodle-oo!"
"LAMBERT!" roared the troll in a voice that would have shamed the kingliest of lions. "You have no work to do here."
"Oh, but I do," said Lambert. "I must take this darling unicorn back to where she belongs. Oh, yes, yes! Please do not hinder us. I must get her away from here, where she is such a lovely distraction. Yeah, that's exactly the problem, my master. Gotta get her home now. Later!"
The troll placed a powerful and majestic hoof on one of Lambert's flippers. "Excuse me," he said. "But I told you that you have no further work to do here. Please pick up your toys and get off of my ranch. And take your disobedient helpers with you. Also, you may have as many milkweed pods as you can carry. I'll never let it be said that I am heartless."
"But, master!" stammered Lambert. "You can't do this! You mustn't! We've come such a long way already! I was up for a raise next year!"
"I'll raise a few things for you if you aren't out of my sight before nightfall." Lindsay was suddenly calm. "And if I ever see you around this innocent waif again, I will … Well, I don't rightly know what I'll do. But you can rest assured that it won't be very much fun for either of us."
"Well, now!" cackled the Witch. "You thought you'd seen the last of ol' Allidap, did you? You were so wrong! Ha ha ha! Now I have you in my clutches once more, and you won't be escaping from me again, I can tell you! To think, you tried to trick me with a photo of some television star. But you won't be able to fool me again quite so easily, my little basket of nuts and bolts!"
The evil woman had chained Telly to a large black platform and was standing over him in a most menacing manner. "You showed me a picture of somebody else to make me think I was a ravishing beauty. You lied to me, you electronic hunk of junk!"
Telly struggled to free himself of his chains, but they proved to be too strong for him. Giving in, he stopped struggling and tuned in to an old rerun ofWalt Disney's Wonderful World of Color.
"Let me see now," muttered the false Allidap. "I must think this over. I have to do something appropriate to punish you for your deceptive ways. Maybe I should turn you into a candy cane and gobble you up?" She scratched her chin. "No, that would be much too kind. I must think of a punishment that is more fitting to a ROTTEN, MEAN LIAR such as you happen to be. Hmmm. Maybe I could transform you into a little brown wart on the left foot of a slimy old toad? Or a bucket of rotten peas? But that still seems hardly enough punishment for a creepy little crawler like you. Oooh! Of all the disgusting luck! If I had only been manifested with the ability to read! Then I could find a perfectly lovely little spell to cast on you that would satisfy my need to punish you!" She stalked to a nearby shelf which was covered with various bottles of herbs and tinctures. Each of these had a faded yellowing label, but none of these labels did her any good. It became clear to her that the inability to read was indeed a great setback. As she pondered an appropriate course of action, she heard a rustling sound outside. "What is that annoying noise?" she spat. "Maybe your little pal Graham has come to let me capture him as well? I will make short work of him, let me tell you! He was a fool to come here!" She stepped lively to the door and stamped her way outside. "Okay, little boy!" she called. "I know that you are out here someplace! Come on out of hiding. Trying to trick me will only make it worse on yourself. Come to me quietly, and let us get this messy ordeal over with quickly. Being that you are so fond of reading Oz books, I think I will turn you into a copy ofDorothy and the Wizard in Oz. Then, as a book does me no good, I will toss you into my fireplace and watch you burn!"
There was no reply.
"I see," sighed the Witch. "So you want to make things difficult, do you? Well, I am willing to go along with your silly little game of hide-and-go-seek. But just remember, my fine and dandy little gentleman, that once I do find you, I will not be so lenient on your crummy hiding little hide!" As she searched the scraggly brush that surrounded her home, she grew more and more agitated. "You may be a pretty good hider," she bellowed. "But I'll get you in the end, you just wait and see!" She searched for a solid half hour before she decided that Graham was not to be found. "The little fruitcake must have run off in fear and horror," she determined. "Well, I will concern myself with his punishment some other time. Right now, I have the television set to attend to. I will miss my soaps, but I think it's high time I put that nasty old creep in his proper place. I think I'll make him into a nice bowl of lumpy spider-flavored oatmeal and have him for a snack." So saying, she sauntered back into her home. Once inside, she was met with a sight that made her more angry than ever. There, on either side of the platform which held Telly captive, were the two huge jungle-cats. The Cowardly Lion was trying in vain to unshackle Telly's chains. The Hungry Tiger, who had been standing guard, saw the enemy and instantly prepared to spring on her. "You'd better leave us alone, you yucky old Witch!" growled the Tiger threateningly. "We are taking Telly to the real Emerald City to meet the real Queen Ozma. Once Ozma hears what you've been up to, she'll transport you to some place where you can never cause our beloved Land of Oz any further grief!"
"Is that so?" chuckled the Witch, quickly regaining her bearings. "I'd like to see the stumbling, demented child queen try that! Maybe I should turn her into a toadstool to show you that I am the all-powerful one here. Your foolish little girl is no queen! She's just a flimsy excuse for a bad one-liner. In fact, you know what I'm going to do to her? I think I should enjoy making her into a little sugar cube and drinking her in my tea. But first, I think I should take care of you little kitty cats. I have heard a story about a little brat named Sambo who made some tigers into butter. I think this tawny scrawny beast would be a fine spread for my toast. Yes, I think that should be quite delicious. And the little lion could become the toast! How delightful it would be to eat the two of you together!"
The Lion was visibly shaken by this idea. "I d-d-don't want to be t-t-toast!" he bellowed fearfully.
"And I will not become a pat of butter, either," added the Tiger, quickly springing on the antagonist and knocking her over.
The Witch struggled for a few minutes and finally freed herself, only to be knocked over a second time by the Lion, who had summoned up a few grams of courage in just the nick of time. "You pestery creatures!" she blurted. "You filthy rotten haggard beasts of bumbling stumbling stupidity! I will see you both destroyed and I'll laugh about it, you rotten dirty crummy hateful old things!" Summoning in her rage a strength she had never before known, she hurled the Lion on top of the Tiger. Then, grabbing a huge net, she threw it over the two of them before they had any time to move out of the way. "Now I have you all, my dearies! All three of that foolish kid's friendies! And I'll see you all into your demises right now!" the Witch said in a whisper. She was about to carry out this threat when there was a knock on the door. "Oh, drat it all!" said the Witch. "Who could that be? If it's your silly Scram-Graham, I'll allow him the honor of watching me destroy all of the rest of you!" She went to the door. There, she saw a strange creature looking at her and wearing a painted smile on his face. "What the dickens are you?" she said. "You look a little bit like a troll, but you have a horse's body growing out of your waist."
"I am a sort of horse-troll," he replied. "But that is not important right now. What is important is that this may be your lucky day!"
"My lucky what?" asked the Witch, not quite understanding.
"Is this the home of Bastinda Slinky Myrna Evillene Allidap?" asked the stranger.
"Er … I guess so," replied the Witch.
"Splendid!" replied the ranchero. "And would you happen to be BastindaSlinky Myrna Evillene Allidap?"
"I think so," she said, not sure she remembered all of those names that were being applied to her.
"Delightful!" said the stranger. "Then I am here, Ms. Allidap, to tell you that today is the luckiest day of your life!"
"Is it?"
"Indeed so! Ms. Allidap, you were selected out of the five hundred billion applicants to receive a prize of twenty-seven million dollars and thirteen cents! And, since you were home when I arrived, you may be eligible for more prizes!" He turned around and whistled through his teeth. "Oh, boys! She's here. Bring in the cameras." A small, horse-like creature and a young man with a television camera in place of a head came running up. "Oh, good. You're here. Mr. Camerahead, let's get some good footage of our lucky winner in her home. Let's go inside. It will look more natural if our winner is in a comfortable place on her sofa."
"But …" began the Witch. "But … I didn't even know there was a TV station in Oz."
"Well, of course there is," said the horse. "Where else would Ozites turn to see their favorite Rankin-Bass Oz cartoon episodes? We are broadcasting from the peak of Some Summit. Now, come on, let's be lively about this. We haven't got all day. We have a commercial to shoot forThe Ozmapolitannewspaper at ten after three."
[Illustration]
"Why don't you stand here in front of your television set?" suggested the camera man. "But we'll have to unchain it from this thing here. This won't look pleasing to our television audience."
"No!" raged the fake Allidap. "Leave that alone!"
But the camera man, who had come equipped with some heavy-duty metal clippers, had Telly freed in no time at all. "Now, my dear Ms. Allidap," said the centaur. "Please stand still and try to look surprised. If this all goes well, you may be eligible for an all expense paid trip to Walt Disney World in Tampa, Florida. That's in the United States, you know. So it may be possible for you to meet the President and give him any advice you might have for him."
"But…. Hey…." stuttered the Witch.
"You want him to butt some hay?" said the horse. "I think I'd rather eat it than butt it. But to each his own. I think we need some extra color in this place. It looks too gloomy." She picked up a bucket (which had been carried in by the centaur) in her teeth and began to splash some rainbow-colored paint all about the room, some of which went directly into the Witch's eyes. Allidap tried to cry out in rage, but she only got some paint in her mouth.
"This looks great!" said the camera man. "The color really adds a lot. The people watching will be happier to see it than the gloominess that used to be here. Now, let me see… Let's have some creative banter. Ms. Allidap, can you look excited and happy? Come on, let's see that beautiful smile."
"Yes," added the centaur. "And hop up and down screaming, 'I won! I won!' if you think you can handle it."
The Witch was having trouble following all of this—especially with the paint in her eyes that made it impossible to see anything around her. But she did like the thought of having won something, so she did her best to do as they asked. When they seemed satisfied with their TV footage, they bid her a fond adieu and scurried out the door.
Once a good distance from the Witch's home, the camera man took off his mask. Of course, as you may have already guessed, it was actually Graham in disguise. And with him were MacDonald Lindsay and Jeanne-Marie. The plan had worked, and they had rescued not only Telly, but also the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger as well.
"I want to thank you," said Telly, "for coming to our rescue that way. That was a clever trick, making the Witch think you were there to put her on television. I wouldn't have actually wanted to televise an image of her, as it might damage my picture tube, but it worked."
The Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger thanked them as well.
"I think we should be looking for the real Ozma," said Graham. "TheWitch will eventually be out hunting me down again."
"A good thought," agreed the Hungry Tiger. "We shall go and find her straightaway."
The centaur looked solemn. "I would so love to meet our dear ruler," he said. "But I fear I may be in for a rude visit from those wartfrogs, and I think I should be there when it comes to pass. However, I will join you in the Emerald City as soon as I have sent the wartfrogs away for good. I will be sorry to be apart from this dear unicorn, however. We have been talking, and we agree that we belong together. I will be anxiously looking forward to seeing her again very soon."
"No," replied Jeanne-Marie. "I shall come back to the farm and help you to rid yourself of those former employees of yours. Then we shall travel together to the Emerald City."
This was a sad parting for all, after all of the adventures they had shared together. But it was as it had to be. So they all said their good-byes and parted, and the two equine-type creatures headed in one direction and the four mismatched friends in the other.
The four friends had reached a clearing behind which a clump of trees partially camouflaged a quaint little cottage. By this time Graham was feeling quite thirsty and thought it would be a good idea to knock on the cottage door and see if he could obtain a nice drink of water. The cottage was surrounded by a garden full of flowers and a white picket fence, and it was all so pretty it could have come right out of a fairy tale. Graham knew full well that no evil person could possibly reside in such a picturesque place, so he boldly opened the gate and walked along the little winding path to the front door, where he knocked loudly.
A minute went by with no response, whereupon Graham knocked again, but this time quite a bit louder.
"Why don't you just knock my door down?" said a voice behind him. Graham about jumped out of his skin as he spun around to see a very kindly lady with a twinkle in her eyes approaching from the back of the house. "I was pruning my roses in the back garden," she continued, "when I heard what I thought must be a very rude person banging on my front door. I gather you must be here on a very urgent matter."
"Well … not exactly," Graham said rather sheepishly. "I was feeling very thirsty and thought that perhaps I might be able to obtain a drink of water"
"Hmmm, I think that can be arranged," replied the lady. "And what about your friends?" she asked, looking rather curiously at Telly and a little nervously at the Lion and Tiger.
"Oh, Telly here is an electrical-mechanical person and is not very partial to water. But if you could wipe his face with a damp cloth, he'll not only look better and be able to see better, but I'll be able to see his television programs better. Would you like to watch one now?"
[Illustration]
The lady was more than a little confused by this invitation, but she obliged by spraying some glass cleaning liquid on Telly's screen and wiping it with a dry cloth. "Ouch! That stuff stings my eyes!" Telly protested loudly. But he was happy that all of the dust had been removed from his screen.
"How about the lion and tiger?" asked the lady. "Would they like a drink? They don't bite, do they?" Without waiting for an answer, the lady led them to the back of the house, where a well was located. She hauled up a bucket of ice-cold, crystal clear water, which Graham took a long drink of from a ladle which she handed to him. The Lion and Tiger said they were not thirsty, but the Tiger asked politely if there were any fat babies residing with her. Graham coughed and choked as the water went down the wrong way. Fortunately, the noise drowned out the Tiger's question, and the lady did not hear him …
With his thirst more than satisfied, Graham proceeded to introduce himself and did his best to explain his current situation and Telly's unique abilities. The lady replied that her name was Doré and that she was both an artist and a storyteller. She then went into the house and brought out several unique pen and ink drawings, as well as some beautiful watercolors, which everyone greatly admired. She looked intently at the Hungry Tiger and said he was a magnificent animal and that she would like to sketch him. The Tiger could not resist smirking at the Lion, who just rolled his eyes.
"Now," continued Doré as she sketched away, "I'll tell you one of my stories if you like."
Graham and his friends nodded vigorously. After all, they all loved to hear stories. Everyone sat down on the soft velvety grass by the well as Doré proceeded to tell the story. She had no sooner started when lots of little animals appeared as if from nowhere and gathered around to listen. They somehow knew that there was nothing to fear from the Lion or the Tiger.
"The title of my story," said Doré, "is 'Helen's Smile.' I hope you like it:
Today was a special day. Not only because the sun was shining, but because he felt good. It had been a long time since he had felt so good. He sat in his chair on the porch as he had done every single day throughout winter, summer, fall, and (his favorite time of the year) spring.
He was a people-watcher all right. No question about that. And almost everyone in town had to pass his house on the way to the train station. He liked that. He knew who worked in the city, who was late, and who went in early. You could tell a lot about people by the schedules they kept. This was a particularly beautiful day. Fall nipped the air, and it felt crisp to the skin. The leaves were just hinting at the change in colors. He liked this time of the year almost as much as he liked spring. The heat of the summer had a way of sapping a man's strength. Fall was different; there was something about the cool air that made his blood surge through his body. Food seemed to taste better, and the air smelted especially clean. The women seemed to look prettier than ever. Yes, sir! This was a good time of the year. His name was Clive, and he was only twenty-seven years old. He had never really lived in the usual sense of the word, but he was wise beyond his years. People always waved and said "Hi" to him, but few approached him. They knew he was a handicapped person because he was always in his wheelchair, and you would think people would want to chat and be cheerful around him so he would feel good, but few ever did. It was his face that bothered them. It was deformed. This was a source of great pain to his mother, who always carried a cloak of guilt about her. His eyes were set very far apart and bulged. Many of the children on their way to school called him "Frog." They'd shout, "Hey, Froggy-Froggy! Hey, Mr. Frog!" and make loud croaking sounds. They never knew the pain it caused him. A few children, however, were far more sensitive and loving and would wave and smile and sometimes come right up to him and say, "Hi, Clive. How are you today?" This made him feel happy again.
Clive's mouth was large and hung loosely at the ends. Somehow nature had forgotten to give him all his facial muscles. For all his many emotions, his face only reflected one. To watch him try to smile was painful. His shriveled body was even sadder to observe. This day, Clive sat and watched Helen pass by. He thought she had to be the most beautiful person in the world. Surely a prettier girl could not exist. He watched her intently, as he had done for the past six years. She walked by and did not look his way, as usual. She always knew he was there. She had sneaked a peak at him once and was so repulsed that she could not bring herself to look again. Yet she knew how he felt about her. She could feel it as she walked by. At first she felt afraid passing by. She even tried taking a different route to the station. But after a while she felt silly. So she passed his house with her head held high and her eyes straight ahead.
As the years passed, she found out about the "cripple" who sat on his porch all day. It was a sad story: Apparently, the father couldn't cope with a deformed baby, so he deserted the family. The mother was a simple country-girl. She was forced to take in wash and to clean other people's houses. But she managed to support herself and her deformed child. She was a quiet woman who minded her own business. She rarely spoke. But she could polish silver and furniture like no other person and so she had plenty of work. In time, she was able to afford her own house. They had lived in that house on Mulberry Street for twenty years. It was always clean and neat. On rare occasions, Helen saw the mother shopping. The mother was so thin and gaunt. How did she manage to lift that son of hers?
As Helen passed the house that bright fall morning, she wondered if the man could stand up or walk. "Helen! Helen! You look so pretty today!" The young woman stopped dead in her tracks. Who spoke? She looked around her. No one that she could see was there—except the person on the porch. Was it him? No … It couldn't be. She had heard that he knew how to speak, but that he was very difficult to understand. But this voice was pleasant and articulate. Very masculine, too.Is someone hiding behind a bush? No. I'm being silly, she thought.I must have imagined it.She looked around one more time, yet carefully avoiding looking at the figure on the porch.
"Helen, why do you always ignore me?"
Again she stopped. This time she did not look around. She knew. "Yes. You are right. It is me. I have finally gotten up enough courage to talk to you. It has taken me years. Can't you turn around just this once and smile at me? It won't hurt you. You are so lovely, more lovely than even the moon, the stars, and all the flowers in the world. Today I am going to die. Yes! Really! I am so happy. It is such a special day. I knew I was going to die three days ago, and I prayed to God that, before I died, I could just see Helen smile. He gave me the 'gift' of speaking into your mind for just this one special day. And He promised that I could speak articulately if what I said came from the heart. I know you can hear me. Please. I love you so much … Won't you turn and smile at me? Just this once?"
Helen stood rooted to the spot. She knew she was experiencing something abnormal. She was frightened.How does he know he is going to die? That's impossible! But it's also impossible to hear a voice inside your head, and I know I'm hearing it! Oh, God! Dare I do it? Can I look at him? He's so ugly—so unbearably ugly! But how sad. It was a beautiful thing he said to me. What if I do smile? Will he expect me to smile every day? No! I can't do that. Next he'll ask me to come up to the porch and chat. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't!Yet her heart went out to him.What loneliness he must feel. I'll smile just this once, and then tomorrow I'll take the other route. She gathered all her willpower and slowly turned around, smiling. At that moment she could feel a tremendous surge of love radiate towards her and envelope her entire being. The sun was shining so brightly that it momentarily blinded her, so she really couldn't see his face, but nevertheless she kept smiling for a moment or two. Then she turned and continued on her way.
It was now several weeks since she had changed her route. By now she was convinced that she had only imagined the voice. Yet she could not bring herself to walk down his street again. It was another glorious day. Helen had the day off and was going shopping. She was standing at the checkout counter when she felt a light touch on her arm. She turned and drew in her breath. It was HIS mother!
"Hello," said the mother in a soft voice. "I don't want to trouble you, but I just want to tell you something I promised my son before he died."
Helen's heart skipped a beat. "He died?"
"Yes, dear. He died several weeks ago. He had been sitting out on the porch as usual when he called out to me and told me you had smiled at him. Dear, you made him so happy. He asked me to tell you something. Then he slumped over and died. Just like that. Don't feel sad, dear. It was a blessing. He did not believe that death was the end. He believed that he would receive a fine new body."
"What did he say?"
The mother looked up at her, the most pleasant smile crossing her face. "He said to thank you for your smile. And to tell you that someday he will meet you again and it will be a different story. Your smile made his life worthwhile, and he died a very, very happy man."
Helen felt a sadness creeping over her.It was only a smile, she thought.Now I am sorry I didn't smile before. It was such a little thing for me to give. But from now on I will smile more often. I'll do it for him. "Thank you for telling me," she said aloud. "Your son must have been a good man in his heart. If there is anything I can do, please let me know." They both smiled at each other, for each knew that she had found a new friend.
The End"
"What a lovely story," Graham said. "Don't you think so, Telly?" he asked, turning to his friend. But Telly was crying like a baby. Tears were flowing in gushes down his screen and splashing off his metallic boots.
Doré produced a wad of tissues and dried his eyes. "You're likely to get a short circuit," she said. "By the way, I'd be delighted to have you join me for supper before you continue on your journey." With that, everyone went inside, with Telly asking question after question. After supper, everyone went out to the porch to talk. Graham sat on one of those swinging seats and became lost in thought as he swung gently back and forth. "Penny for your thoughts?" said Doré, sensing that the boy was a little sad.
"Oh, I was just wondering if I will ever find a way to get home. I think Oz is a very interesting place, with lots of incredibly wonderful people (except for that old Witch), but I am getting very homesick, and I miss my family terribly. Not only that, but they are probably worried sick and have probably called the police about their missing child."
"Well," replied Doré, "you just happen to be in the right place … You see that old well where you quenched your thirst? Well, it's a wishing well. A real, true wishing well. And if you throw in a coin and make a sincere unselfish wish, your wish will come true instantly. Of course, you only get one guaranteed wish, but if you make a second wish, you have an eighty percent chance of that coming true, also."
Graham immediately perked up as Doré's words sank in. Then he became crestfallen as his eyes fell upon Telly's forlorn face, not to mention the disappointment reflected in the faces of the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger. He had made a wonderful new friend in Telly and was just getting to know the others, and now they were going to be separated—perhaps forever.
Doré, quickly realizing what the situation was, offered her condolences but assured Graham that if he were to make that second wish with great sincerity, there was a very good chance he could come back for a visit. With that, Graham shook hands with everyone and gave them each a big hug. He then threw a penny into the well as he made his two wishes. "I wish to go back home," and "I wish to come back to Oz someday for a visit." Then, as he waved goodbye to everyone, he slowly became invisible, only to reappear for a second, then slowly disappear again. This happened two or three times as Doré explained to Telly that the magic was working all right but that Graham's mixed feelings on the matter were delaying the final teleportation. Just then, there was a large black shadow overhead and a sudden WHOOSH! as a projectile whizzed past Graham's head. Back and forth it went, to reveal none other than the Wicked Witch on her broomstick, grabbing for Graham as she passed him.
"SO, LITTLE MAN. THOUGHT YOU'D ESCAPE FROM ME, EH? I DON'T THINK SO, MY FINE FEATHERED FRIEND!" She wailed like a banshee as she finally grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him as he desperately tried to escape. In the distance Graham fancied he could hear his mother's voice calling him.
"Graham! Graham!" His eyes—which had been shut tightly as the Witch shook him—opened to see with great surprise his mother's face as she also shook him. "Wake up! Wake up! Don't you know it's twelve midnight? And you haven't even done your homework! Your father will be having serious words with you in the morning, young man. Now, up to your room immediately!"
Graham had not been expecting to come home to such a tongue-lashing, but he was very happy to finally be back home after so many harrowing experiences. Ever since he had first been abducted to Oz, he had considered it his mission to get home again. The wishing well had made it possible.
But as Graham turned out the light beside his bed that night and laid his head against his pillow, he began to think over the events that he had experienced in Oz. Of course he had wanted to get home to his family. It only made sense that he would. He was only twelve and he needed them. Not only that, but they would be worried sick. He had made a sensible wish. Or had he? As he lay on his bed, it occurred to him that he might have used his penny to wish away the wicked witch and save Oz. A feeling of guilt began to gnaw at him. Had he actually used his penny to desert his friends when they needed him most? He realized then what a selfish act that had been.Not entirely selfish, he thought.I was thinking of my family as much as myself. But he knew that he was making excuses and that he should have wished more wisely. As he slowly drifted off into a troubled sleep, he saw images of the Cowardly Lion, the Hungry Tiger, Telly, Jeanne-Marie, MacDonald Lindsay, Doré, and many other Oz folk pass before his eyes.
[Illustration]
The following day, Graham's mother was sorting the boy's dirty clothes for the wash when she noticed an ink stain on his shirt pocket. She checked the pocket and found a piece of paper with some kind of smudged drawing and words below the sketch that she could not make out without her reading glasses. It looked like, something … speare. Without a thought, she crumpled it up into a ball and threw it in the trash.
End of Project Gutenberg's Abducted to Oz, by Bob Evans and Chris Dulabone