IT took nearly two days for the Wizard to get things in the tower once more into proper shape and during all that time the eclipse hung heavily over Toyland. The Wizard had worked feverishly with no light save that obtained from the fireflies that he had stolen from the palace. He was shaking in his shoes for fear the King and Queen should return and find that the only source of illumination had been cut off. As not even the wireless telegraph was working, he had been unable to communicate with Their Majesties, but feared that they must be very impatient by this time and that they might make their appearance at any moment.

It was difficult to get on with only the light afforded by the fireflies, and he chuckled grimly as he pictured the Weather Prophet, who had so reveled in the sunshine of her glass house, pining in the darkness in which he supposed she was locked up.

The room in which he had left her was on the opposite side of the tower, and he had only to cross the hall to reach it, but he savagely vowed to himself that he would not go near her, and that he didn’t care if she starved to death. After a while, however, the extreme quiet got on his nerves, and he began to wonder how it was that no sound at all came to him from the room across the hall. Presently he tiptoed very softly to the door and listened. But all was still as could be—nothing moved or breathed.

He went back to his work, but a feeling of uneasiness possessed him. The Queen was very fond of his pretty wife, and he knew that he would be called to strict account should he be the cause of any ill befalling her. After a little while he went back again and listened, but still he could hear nothing. After a moment of hesitation, he opened the door and went in.

By the radiance afforded by the fireflies, he saw at once that the room was empty. Even the food that he had left there was untouched. A hurried visit to all the other rooms on the floor failed to discover the object of his search. Really terrified, he sat down to consider. Suppose she had thrown herself down from the balcony, and was at that moment laying on the ground below, dashed to pieces! He had not the courage to go and investigate. For like most people who brag a great deal about themselves, the Wizard was an arrant coward. He fled back to his work, stopping not for food or rest, with the result that on the morning of the third day the sun shone brilliantly once more over Toyland.

A great notice was posted at the gate of the tower, announcing that the sun had been swallowed up by an enormous dragon known to science as the Ictotherium; that the Wizard had engaged him, single-handed, and by his magic arts had compelled him to disgorge his brilliant meal and flee the country.

The bulletin went on to state that the Weather Prophet had been carried away by the dragon. Prompted by curiosity, she had exposed herself on the high balcony at the top of the tower, contrary to the advice of her husband. The notice concluded with the announcement that there would be a purple twilight that afternoon, beginning promptly at five-thirty and advising that violets would be a suitable adornment for the afternoon tea tables.

Great was the grief expressed by everyone when the fate of the Wizard’s pretty little wife became generally known, for she had been a general favorite. Indeed, public sorrow almost outweighed public joy, delighted as everyone was that the sun shone once more. The Wizard shut himself up in his tower and refused to see anyone, and the general supposition was that he was prostrated with grief. To tell the truth, his jumping-jacks were scouring the country to see if they could discover any trace whatsoever of his wife, while he himself was nearly wild with anxiety lest she should suddenly pop up at some unlucky moment and give the whole thing away.

Early that morning Sally had started for the tower, as she knew that a bulletin of some sort would be posted. The little girl was glad to see daylight once more and also to be able to take a good long walk, and she skipped along in the bright sunshine, occasionally giving a little jump for sheer joy. The period of the eclipse had been a tedious one for her, as she despised being shut in the house. So now she made very good time along the highway, and so thoroughly did she manage to interest herself in everything and everybody that before very long she found that she had lost her way.

Now, of course in Toyland it is not such a very serious thing to lose one’s way, for as everybody knows, all roads lead to the palace. However, Sally was greatly surprised to suddenly find herself in a little strip of woods, with no road at all visible in any direction, and without even a path to show the way that others had taken. She recollected having left the highway to run after a queer looking figure that had attracted her attention and which had kept just beyond her, dodging along behind trees and bushes. And then, just as she had come up to it, had vanished as completely as though the ground had swallowed it. And then she had awakened to the fact that she was lost.

“How provoking!” she said crossly to herself. “If I ever get hold of the animal that coaxed me in here, I’ll show him what’s what.”

She had spoken out loud, and at the same time shook her little fist in a decidedly threatening manner.

“I’m no animal, I’ll have you know,” exclaimed a shrill, squeaky voice so close to her that she jumped at least a foot in the air.

And whirling around, she beheld just at her elbow the queerest little man that she had ever laid eyes on. He was white all over, with floppy arms and legs, and a squatty, flabby body and a head that wabbled. And he had a general appearance of being all tied up in knots. It was the creature that she had been following to her own undoing, and for a moment she glared at it as if she would fall upon it tooth and nail. The very next she fell to laughing as if she would burst.

“Oh, I know you!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “You are just tied out of a handkerchief. I have often made a lot of you at home to hang over the chandelier with long strings. And when I pulled the strings you danced.”

“I do not know where home may be,” returned the Handkerchief Man crossly, “but I do know that you never pulled any strings as far as I am concerned.” Then he added, peering anxiously about, “Have you happened to see my brother, the Doughnut Man? He came here yesterday to pick buttons which he sells to the people in town who are too lazy to come out and pick them for themselves.”

“To pick buttons?” ejaculated Sally, and then she added severely, “I don’t believe he ever found this place while the eclipse[150]
[151]
[152] was going on. Nobody could have found anything, not even himself.”

“That’s just it; he lost himself. Nobody ever finds this place unless he loses himself. That makes it even, you know. You’re lost, I’m lost, my brother is lost, and the Peppermint Stick is lost. Everybody is lost.”

Sally felt unable to contradict him, although she wanted to badly enough. Therefore she demanded with some asperity:

“What is the Peppermint Stick? It sounds good to me.”

“You mean who is the Peppermint Stick. Well, he was a candy cane in his youth and hung on a Christmas tree. Oh, you’ll be sure to like him, he’s so sweet.”

“If I happen to see a doughnut and a candy cane anywhere between here and next Christmas, I shall eat them,” declared Sally firmly.

She drew up her pink lips in a hungry grin, showing all her sharp little white teeth.

The effect of her words on the Handkerchief Man was entirely unexpected, for after gazing at her for a moment as if fascinated, he exclaimed feebly, “Alas, my brother!” then threw up his wabbly arms and fell over in a dead faint.

“Now, what would anybody do with a thing like that?” exclaimed Sally.

Picking up the Handkerchief Man, she shook him vigorously, but as he refused to revive, while every bit of him flopped unpleasantly, she presently propped him up against a tree and started off by herself, resolved to investigate the queer bit of woods which nobody ever found without first losing himself.

“The very idea of a handkerchief behaving like that!” she said to herself as she trotted along, keeping an eye open for the button bush concerning which she had already heard. But no sign of it appeared, neither did she find herself any nearer to the road. On the contrary, she seemed to be getting deeper and deeper into the woods. The trees grew closer and closer together, while the bushes seemed thicker and thicker. At last it seemed that there was no longer even a little path between the dense growths and that if she wished to proceed further, she must push her way through. As she paused for a moment to consider, something small and very hard struck her smartly on the nose. This blow was followed up by another and another. Thoroughly astonished, she stopped and picked up one of the missiles that lay shining directly at her feet. Then she uttered a little exclamation of joy:

“The Button Bush!” she cried excitedly.

“Yes, the Button Bush,” retorted a voice above her head, and the Bush shook itself again indignantly, sending a shower of the buttons of all sizes and descriptions pelting over the little girl.

“If you please,” began Sally rather timidly, “if you please, have you seen the Doughnut Man anywhere about?”

Just as she spoke a queer looking figure came swiftly around from the other side of the bush. Sally saw that its body was composed of large, puffy doughnuts, while his head and limbs were formed of the same edibles in smaller sizes. It was almost staggering under the weight of a great basket of buttons that it was lugging along, while its round eyes, which consisted of two plump raisins, seemed popping out of its head with the exertion.

“He looks good to me. I wonder how he tastes,” said Sally to herself, involuntarily taking a step forward. But the Doughnut Man, holding his basket of buttons firmly in front of himself as if it were a shield, advanced smiling and not at all as if he had any idea of being devoured.

“I beg your pardon, but did you happen to see the Peppermint Stick anywhere hereabouts?” he inquired politely.

“No, but I found the Handkerchief Man. He fainted,” returned Sally promptly. “I couldn’t bring him to and I was afraid to shake him any more for fear he would come untied, and then he would have been nothing but a plain handkerchief. So I propped him up against a tree and left him. No doubt he is all right by this time. Would you like to go back and see?”

“Oh, no,” returned the other quickly. “You see, we are both lost, you and I, or we shouldn’t be here at all. So what is the use of looking for that peevish chap? He has very little backbone anyway. Very little backbone,” he repeated sadly, while a tear rolled down his crisp, fried cheek.

“I don’t see what that has to do with it,” began Sally. But her companion interrupted her with a great want of manners.

“Oh, nothing has anything to do with anything else here, because everything is lost, more or less. As soon as anything finds itself, it gets away. So will you and so will I and so will the Peppermint Stick.”

“Bless my soul, how very curious! Are you quite sure that you are not all crazy instead of being all lost?” exclaimed Sally saucily.

“Maybe you are crazy, although I don’t know what that means,” replied the other sadly.

“Well, I can’t stop to explain now. It would take too long,” returned the child smartly, “but if you ever come across it, you’ll know. Anyway, if you had your brother here now, you could mop up your tears with him,” and as she spoke, she dexterously flipped away a large, round one that hung trembling on the very end of the Doughnut Man’s stubby nose.

“There you go again! Really, it’s very upsetting when one doesn’t understand a thing you mean. Then there’s the Button Bush. She’s mad again because I came for more buttons. What good are buttons on a bush, anyway? They’ve got to be picked while they’re ripe or else they all go to seed. Really, it’s very unreasonable.”

“I suppose you have a good trade in buttons,” suggested the little girl politely. “But who, pray, is the Peppermint Stick? Is he good to e—” She caught herself hastily, somehow feeling that the Doughnut Man would be displeased by what she had been on the verge of saying. Something under her apron warned her that it must be near lunch time, for her breakfast had been but a light one, and then she was very fond of peppermint.

“Yes, indeed, I have a very good trade,” replied the Doughnut Man. “Only it would be more congenial if the Button Bush would quit giving herself such ridiculous airs. As for the Peppermint Stick, he isn’t good for anything in particular as far as I know. Long ago he was a cane and was hooked on the bough of a Christmas tree. Nobody ate him and he had a bad fracture, the result of being dropped. So in the course of time, he drifted here and the Gloo-Gloos fixed him up. The only thing I don’t like about him is that he is striped. Now I simply abominate stripes, although I adore polka dots. But tastes differ. Perhaps you like stripes?”

“I don’t mind them at all in peppermint,” replied Sally. “And I would show him that I didn’t if I only could get my teeth into him,” she added to herself.

“Well, I suppose we had better try to find our way out of this,” said the other after a short silence. He was evidently anxious to get back to town with his stock in trade and Sally was growing extremely hungry. Accordingly, the two started forth and after wandering along for some time at length discovered a little beaten track which gradually broadened until it finally became a footpath.

This, they felt quite sure, would conduct them to their desired destination. As they were hurrying along, they suddenly came upon a little cottage so completely hidden among the trees that it was scarcely discernible.

“Ah, now I know where we are! This cottage belongs to an old Codfish. He makes his living by weighing people at so much apiece.”

“By weighing people?” cried Sally in amazement. “Does anybody ever come here?”

“Nobody,” replied the other promptly. “But then he has the scales, and of course feels as if he should use them.”

“Very scrupulous, I’m sure,” said Sally gravely. She strained her eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the conscientious Codfish. But everything about the tiny cottage was tightly closed, and an air of desertion hung about the place. Over the door hung a small sign on which was inscribed in tall letters:

PEOPLE WEIGHED HERE.
C. FISH.

and below this was the picture of a Codfish standing by a pair of scales, while a crowd of people were advancing in the foreground, all apparently anxious to avail themselves of the opportunity.

As Sally and the Doughnut Man came abreast of the sign, the child was almost paralyzed with amazement to see the Codfish nimbly hop off, followed by the scales and all the people, and come running briskly towards them.

“I’ve stood up there vegetating long enough,” cried the Codfish. “And I’m actually perishing for want of a swim. No one wants to be weighed anyhow. Why should they?”

He shot out the question with so impressive, not to say ferocious a manner that nobody cared to answer. Only one member of the crowd that had hopped off the sign protested feebly that he had been waiting for a long time. However, as nobody paid any attention to him, he soon relapsed into silence.

“If you know the way out of these woods, for goodness’ sake show us,” exclaimed the Doughnut Man.

To which the Codfish responded by beginning to sing in a very loud voice:

“I don’t see what that has to do with it,” exclaimed Sally impatiently. Then turning to the Doughnut Man, she added severely, “You said just now that you knew where we were, and you don’t at all.”

“Oh, to be sure I do, and so do you. We are right opposite the Codfish’s house,” retorted the other. Then he added thoughtfully, “What seems so very queer to me is that we haven’t come across the Peppermint Stick.”

As nobody cared a snap about the Peppermint Stick and as Sally felt that there was no use in arguing with any of them, she suggested that they should make a move, and herself taking the lead, they started forth in Indian file.

“Idiots!” muttered the little girl to herself. “To think that they’ve lived here all their lives and don’t know anything about the place!”

She hurried along at such a brisk pace that the others found some difficulty to keep up, especially the Doughnut Man, burdened as he was by his huge basket of buttons. After they had gone a mile or so, the little girl suddenly uttered a cry of joy, for she beheld an opening in the trees and saw that a few steps would bring them to the edge of the wood. Upon emerging from the dense shadows of the trees, they found that it was already twilight and Sally no longer wondered at her ravenous appetite.

Once on the highroad, it was easy enough to find the way home, and hither she hastened, feeling glad enough when she beheld the lights of the Walking House through the shadows.

The Weather Prophet ran to meet her, her face sparkling with excitement.

“The King and Queen have been here,” she cried, “and they were so delighted to find that I was not devoured by a horrid dragon that they are going to take me to live with them at the palace, and build a beautiful crystal tower for my use exclusively.”

She then told Sally of the Wizard’s bulletin and added that, as he had humbly begged her pardon and promised never to interfere with her again, she had not betrayed him to the King and Queen.

“I guess that was the best thing to do,” said Sally, as she sat down to a substantial supper. “Nobody else understood about the sun and a perpetual eclipse would have been perfectly awful.”

“Quite so,” returned the Weather Prophet, and after a little, Sally having related the day’s adventures, they all went to bed.